Ali knew Liv meant well, but every time she tried to adjust Ali’s winding position or suggest a different strategy, all Ali heard was how wrong she was getting it. Her only solace was that Liv was not lactating and, at least in that area, Ali wasn’t a complete failure.
At 1 a.m. Sam appeared at the door and eased it closed behind him. Only then did Ali realise she still had her hair up in a towel since before dinner. Oh well. It was the least of it really. She was covered in breastmilk and baby vom and was pretty aware that her humongous sanitary towel reeked and needed changing. She was too wrung out to care at this point. The fucks she had left to give had long left the building by the fourth week of motherhood.
Without even a word exchanged, Sam and Ali did the baby handover and Ali waded next door to collapse for a few hours’ oblivion on the bed Sam had just vacated. He always put her pillow on the bed for her before she went in. It had a Jurassic Park cover and smelled like her shampoo. And every time she swapped his back and buried her face in his smell. Exhausted tears leaked from her eyes and she didn’t even really know why. She was just so tired. And afraid she was doing everything wrong. And tired of being afraid she was doing everything wrong.
At 4 a.m. her phone alarm buzzed, still in her hand, and she heaved herself up from what felt more like a coma than traditional sleep. She saw a WhatsApp from Sam:
Please sleep more if you can. I can give her a bottle. You need the rest. We’re fine.
God love him, they did not sound fine. Through the wall, Ali could hear the baby’s rhythmic cries, which sounded oddly like grinding machinery. Anyway, even if she could go back to sleep, her boobs wouldn’t have it. Her tee shirt was soaked and her chest throbbed.
Why does no one talk about how moist motherhood is? She ducked into the bathroom to pee and caught herself feeling actual nostalgia for a time – any time! – when she was just not moist. Not even happy or warm or comfortable. Just not covered in fluids. It was such a simple longing …
She changed the sanitary pad but couldn’t source a dry tee shirt. What was the point anyway? She’d just be moist again after the feed, when Millie would presumably hurl the whole thing back up on her. The fecking waste of breastmilk killed Ali more than anything.
She pushed the bedroom door open to find Sam trapped in an elaborate sway that seemed to involve some kind of full body figure-of-eight motion.
‘It’s sort of working.’ He grinned over at her. The sky outside was beginning to lighten and Ali caught herself thinking she’d never forget him there like that, doing middle-of-the-night cardio to appease their baby.
‘How do babies get us locked into these annoying rocking scenarios?’ Ali mused as she settled herself on the bed and accepted the proffered Millie, who clamped immediately to her left boob.
‘They’re conniving,’ Sam replied plainly, sitting on the bed.
Ali snorted. ‘Yep.’
It was the end of his shift. Usually he went back to his house at this point. He was staring at Millie gorging away.
‘Does it feel crazy?’
‘No.’ Ali thought for a minute. ‘Or not the way you think it would. It feels like relief – a bit like a sneeze.’
‘It’s so mad that you made her and now you feed her. It’s amazing.’ He shook his head and Ali felt a twinge of panic that he was about to get up and leave.
‘Well, it’s amazing for fleeting moments,’ Ali agreed. ‘But she was being a total cunt all day today TBH.’
‘Oh my God, I know. What is with that?!!?’ He mugged as if they were having a bitching session about some annoying mutual in the group chat and Ali, relieved, burst out laughing.
‘Like you couldn’t have a better life, you little ingrate,’ he jokingly admonished Millie.
‘Yeah.’ Ali grinned at the baby. ‘Seriously, what problems could you possibly have?’
At this, Millie paused in her feed and seemed to regard them both warily. Her little knees drew up and her face scrunched, preparing to cry.
‘Ah, ah, nope.’ Sam leaned over her. ‘None of that now. You stop being a lil dose to my …’ He trailed off. The awkward silence spoke volumes, thought Ali; they still didn’t know what they were to each other.
‘His baby mama,’ Ali told the baby to save them both the angst.
‘You’re not my baby mama, Ali,’ Sam said quietly. He was still very close to her.
Ali barely risked breathing in case the moment would come apart and they’d never be this close again.
Millie, of course, was only momentarily silenced by Sam’s warning and now let out a piercing squall, startling Ali. She put the baby on her shoulder and began patting her.
‘You’re my Benson, Ali,’ said Sam over the screaming, brushing her hair back from her face.
‘So… does that make you Stabler in this analogy?’ Ali asked. ‘’Cos if you are, I’m not sure it works … you know they never actually—’
‘Ali, shut up, please.’ Sam grinned. And then they were kissing as Millie howled indignantly between them.