The Perfect Stroke(170)

“Is mommy’s baby, hungry?” I ask him, reaching down into the crib. He instantly stops crying and he reaches out to me with his little hands, knowing what comes next.

I take him to the rocking chair that Roman surprised me with when we were fixing up the nursery. It’s a beautiful handmade piece that I will cherish the rest of my life. I pull the strap from my dress and adjust my breast so the baby can begin to nurse. He latches on and greedily drinks up. It took some getting used to, but I love breastfeeding. It sounds hokey, but it feels as if by doing it, I’m affirming nature’s grand design. I even feel beautiful, even if my body is never going to get back to the shape it was in before Roman Jr. decided to wreck it.

I begin rocking slowly. Not enough movement to jar him, but just a soft, rhythmic movement that he likes. I hum his favorite lullaby. Pretty soon, his hungry grunts and swallows fill the room as his little hand wraps around my finger. I kiss his forehead and commit this to memory. Another beautiful memory in a lifetime of them. That’s what life with Roman has given me. I’m the luckiest woman on the face of the Earth. I feel that in my soul. Roman and I might have started off rocky, but the ride was more than worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing.





It’s two in the afternoon on a Friday and I’m headed home. I won’t be going back into town until sometime Monday, and honestly, if I had my way, I wouldn’t even then. I make a point of always trying to be home around this time every day. I don’t want to miss it. Ana has no idea the hoops I jump through just so I can be here in time to watch her nurse our son. As I round the corner to the baby’s nursery, I stop as the breath stalls in my chest.

Ana is humming a song and our child is suckling from her breast, greedily eating. The little grunts he makes fills the room and I smile, but my heart is full. In this room is my world. My complete world. I once thought love didn’t exist, merely survival. I was so fucking wrong. There are no words.

Love exists. I look at Ana now and I can’t believe it. I was an asshole. Hell, I still am, in many ways. I used her. I demanded her acceptance, her allegiance, and her body. I held her brother over her head and demanded she give me everything I wanted. I wanted to dominate and own her. My, how the mighty fall. I might have been unfair to her, but in the end, it was her who got the victory.

She owns me. She controls my world.

“I love you, Ana.” I tell her and her face jerks up, realizing I’m standing beside her. At my words, tears spring from her eyes. She cries at the drop of a hat these days. I worried about it until she told me that her heart was so full, she couldn’t help it.

“I love you, Roman,” she whispers, smiling.

Love isn’t about survival. I made demand after unjustified demand, trying to own and control what no man could. Love isn’t about taking. Love is all about giving. My Ana taught me that, and I’ll spend the rest of my life showing her I learned the lesson well.



The End.