Morning arrived before I felt ready for it.
One baby woke first.
Then another.
By the time the third started fussing, I was already in the nursery, moving between the cribs with the careful steps my recovering body allowed.
I fed them one at a time.
I changed a diaper.
I picked up a tiny blanket that had slipped onto the floor.
The house had begun another day without asking whether I was ready.
Ethan came out of the guest room dressed for travel.
His hair was neat.
His shirt was pressed.
He looked like a man who had slept well and had somewhere pleasant to be.
I looked down at the baby in my arms.
The baby was making small sucking noises against the bottle.
I adjusted its angle and waited until he swallowed comfortably.
Ethan carried his suitcase into the hallway.
The wheels rattled over the floor.
I recognized the sound immediately.
It was the same suitcase I had seen open beside his bed the night before.
He stopped near the front door and checked his phone.
"Your ride is coming?"
I asked.
He glanced at the screen.
"Should be here soon."
I nodded.
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
I had imagined this morning going differently.
In one version, he would have looked around the house and realized what he was leaving behind.
He would have seen the bottles on the counter, the blankets waiting to be washed, and the three babies who could not be left to manage on their own.
He would have put his phone away.
He would have told me he had changed his mind.
But he stood by the door, waiting for his taxi.
I had to accept what was happening in front of me.
He was leaving.
And I was staying.
The doorbell rang.
Ethan picked up his suitcase.
I shifted the baby against my shoulder and followed him toward the entrance.
He turned and gave me a quick smile.
"Try to get some rest while I'm gone."
I looked at him.
For a second, I could not believe he had said it.
Rest.
As though I could put three newborns on pause.
As though I could tell them their father had gone on holiday and they should kindly wait until he returned.
I did not answer.
He leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
The kiss was brief.
It felt like something he did because it was expected, not because he understood what was happening between us.
"Call me if you need anything."
I looked at the suitcase beside his leg.
Then I looked at him.
"Okay."
That was all I said.
He seemed satisfied.
He pulled the suitcase outside and closed the door behind him.
I stayed where I was for a moment, holding the baby against my chest.
Through the front window, I watched Ethan load his luggage into the taxi.
He checked his phone again before getting inside.
Then the car pulled away.
I watched until it disappeared from view.
There was no dramatic moment when I suddenly felt free.
The house was still full of work.
One baby began crying against my shoulder.
Another called from the nursery.
I turned away from the window and went back inside.
The morning continued.
I washed bottles.
I prepared milk.
I changed the babies and tried to keep the room warm enough without making it uncomfortable.
My back ached.
My stomach hurt whenever I moved too quickly.
I took a few minutes to sit down while the babies slept, but I did not really rest.
I kept listening.
A small noise from one crib could pull me out of my chair before I even realized I had stood up.
I drank coffee when I remembered.
Most of the time, I forgot.
By midday, I had eaten almost nothing.
I found a piece of bread on the counter and took a few bites while holding a baby.
Then I heard crying from the other room.
I put the bread down.
I went to check.
That was how the hours passed.
There was no room for a long argument in my head.
There was only what needed to happen next.
Still, I thought about Ethan.
I pictured him arriving at the airport.
I imagined him walking through the terminal with his suitcase rolling behind him.
I imagined him boarding the plane and settling into his seat, probably relieved to have a little space around him.
He would have time to eat without interruption.
Time to sleep without listening for crying.
Time to look at the sea and tell himself he had earned the rest.
I wondered whether he had thought about us at all.
Maybe he had.
Maybe he believed that because I had managed the previous six weeks, I would manage the next two.
That thought made me angry again.
I was not asking him to give up his job.
I was not asking him to stop being tired.
I was asking him to act like the father he had said he wanted to be.
But I had learned something during those weeks.
A promise made before responsibility arrived was easy to keep.
It was what a person did after the responsibility became real that mattered.
The afternoon moved slowly.
I settled the babies after another feeding.
I picked up the coffee cup and carried it to the kitchen.
It was cold again.
I set it beside the sink and reached for a clean bottle.
The clock above the counter showed that it was getting close to four.
I had been awake for most of the day.
My arms felt heavy.
I sat down for a moment, with one baby asleep nearby and the other two resting in their cribs.
I was so tired that the silence felt almost unfamiliar.
Then my phone began ringing.
The sound startled me.
I looked at the screen.
Ethan.
For a second, I simply stared at his name.
He had been gone only hours.
I wondered whether he had arrived safely, whether something had gone wrong with his flight, or whether he was calling to ask about the babies.
I picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
I barely had time to finish the word.
His voice came through so loudly that I pulled the phone away from my ear.
He sounded furious.
Not irritated.
Not mildly disappointed.
Furious.
I sat straighter.
"Ethan?"
He was breathing hard, and I could hear something moving in the background.
A door, perhaps.
I could not tell.
Then he shouted.
"How could you do this to me?"
I stared at the phone.
For a moment, I could not even form an answer.
He was supposed to be at a luxury resort in Cabo.
He was supposed to be enjoying the vacation he had insisted he deserved.
Instead, he was calling me in a rage, from somewhere far away, as though I had personally ruined the most important thing in his life.
I looked toward the nursery.
All three babies were still there.
All three needed me.
And for the first time that day, I did not immediately rush to soothe the person making the most noise.
I held the phone against my ear and listened.
Ethan shouted again, his voice sharp enough to make me flinch.
"You actually did this to me?"
I looked at the closed guest-room door across the hallway.
Then I looked at the suitcase-shaped empty space near the entrance.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
I knew he had finally discovered the changes I had made.
And I knew that the conversation we had avoided before he left was now waiting for us.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: His First Afternoon in Cabo Turned Into a Fight, and I Finally Heard What He Thought He Was Entitled To
I Thought We Were Building a Family Together, Until Three Tiny Cries Filled Our House and My Husband Started Sleeping Behind a Closed Door
Part 4 of 24
