Alan James was named after Jake’s father and my brother Jimmy. He was born six months ago after a difficult pregnancy that forced me to drop out of nursing school. The majority of it was spent on bed rest, and it ended in a planned c-section, due to the placenta previa, which hadn’t ever corrected itself. The recovery from surgery was tough. We had just moved to Boston right before A.J arrived, because Jake had to start his new job. Even though my mother had come to stay with us for the first two weeks, after she left, it was a really tough adjustment. Jake’s sister, Allison, has been great and tries to help give me a break when she’s not working, but living here, as big as their house is, was not the ideal situation. We really needed our own space, but it’s been difficult to find something affordable close to Jake’s family, which is what we want. Six months later, we were still living in his sister’s house, but it’s helped us work towards saving up for our own home.
My parents hadn’t even met Jake yet when I had to tell them I was pregnant. They were extremely upset at first, but eventually, they accepted everything. After getting to know him, they have warmed up to him somewhat. My relationship with Ryan is still rocky, although he and Jake talked everything out one night but not before Jake decked him in the heat of the moment. Ryan and Tarah have since broken up, and she moved out of the apartment. She and I still talk on the phone but have grown apart somewhat since A.J. was born. Ryan is now living with three brand new roommates.
Basically, my entire life was turned upside down in the course of a year. Looking down at my son, peacefully sleeping in my arms, he was the spitting image of his father. I knew everything ended up the way it was meant to. As difficult as all of these transitions have been, they’ve helped me grow as a person.
My only real regret was how I’ve treated Jake over the past couple of months as a result of what my doctor diagnosed as postpartum depression. Even though I seemed to be coming out of it now, when it was at its worst, I wouldn’t even let him touch me. I was convinced my body was ruined from the baby, even though he assured me that he had never wanted me more and that I was more beautiful than ever to him.
I had also felt really inadequate as a mother and began worrying that I couldn’t properly take care of my son. I would have nightmares about harming him that would keep me up at night. I was left alone a lot during the day and had too much time to think. It felt like I was going crazy. But with a light dose of medication that the doctor says is safe to use while breastfeeding, along with a weekly therapy session, I’ve felt a lot better lately. Apparently, with my history of anxiety issues and the hormonal changes I was going through, it was the perfect storm.
Jake had really wanted to get married before our son was born, but his divorce wasn’t finalized until two months after. Even then, I told him it was too early to get married, so soon after his divorce. He and I fought about it, because he felt that I doubted his love for me or that there might have been something else holding me back because of the way I had been acting. I realize now that my feelings at the time were a direct result of the postpartum depression. Lately, he’s backed off completely from the marriage issue. The last fight we had, he vowed never to bring it up again for as long as he lived. I almost wished he would, because now I worry that he’s moved past it. And I do want to be his wife…badly. When he walked out that door today, I wished so much that I was.
That ship may have sailed, though. My strong reluctance to make it legal as soon as we were able to, really upset him. During one argument, I had accused him of only wanting to marry me because of the baby. I knew that was a low blow and never really believed that. This was around the same time I stopped letting him touch me, at the height of the depression. One night, he came home late from work. I had just put the baby down to sleep, when he walked in and backed me up against the wall into a passionate kiss. Then, he held up his hand. He had tattooed my name around his ring finger and said with tears in his eyes, “You won’t make it permanent…well, I just did.” That had killed me inside, but my head still wasn’t in a good enough place then to make it right.
Thank God, I was coming out of it now and could see so clearly how lucky I was.
I needed to make it right.
***
Jake made it home right on time and A.J. and I were waiting at the window.
When he walked in the door, I forced my usual question. “How was she?”
“She was okay today…in a good mood,” he said. “She didn’t kick me out.” He always searched my eyes to make sure he wasn’t upsetting me.