When she finishes, I turn back to Sam. “Can you take me back to the ward?”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, swallowing down a huge sob. My fears about going through everything that I have, and then not to want the result at the end have come true. I’ve never been overly fussed by the babies in the clubhouse, never oohed and aahed with everyone else. Never wanted one of my own, and now that she’s here, it just emphasises how wrong it is for me to go through this alone.
If Truck was here, maybe it would be different. I might feel his joy and share it. As it is, I’m terrified. How the hell do I look after something so small when I feel nothing for it?
Sam’s reluctant to leave me, but I just want her to go.
When, at last, she gives me space, I dissolve into tears.
I should never be a mother. I just don’t have it inside me.
My phone rings. I grab it. My eyes widening as my voice rapidly accepts the call.
“Al? How are you? How’s the baby?”
“Truck,” I sob. “I’m sorry. She came early.”
“You with her? How is she doing? She going to be okay?”
“I’m not with her. I can’t, I don’t know, Truck. They say she’ll be fine. She’s got tubes all over her, helping her breathe. She’s so tiny, Truck.” Focus on the baby. That’s what he wants to know about. “You’re a dad, now, Truck.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. “How can I be a fuckin’ dad when I can’t even see her? Can’t hold her. Fuck, Al, it’s killing me.”
“Truck…” But what can I say?
There’s silence for a moment, then he asks. “How are you, Al? Now she’s here, are you still feeling rough?”
“Rough from the anaesthesia, but already, in other ways, I’m feeling better.” I must be. I fancy a coffee.
“You gonna feed her yourself?”
It’s something I hadn’t thought about. The idea fills me with horror. She’s already taken so much from me, how can I give her more? Having missed the birth, I don’t even think she’s mine. And, anyway, how will I be able to while she’s hooked up to those machines? “I don’t know.”
Something in my voice must have worried him. “All this has been so fuckin’ hard on you, Al. Hate that I haven’t been there with you. Blame myself so fuckin’ much. But you ask for help. What you’ve been through has been traumatic, then to have the baby while you were knocked out. One thing after another, isn’t it, babe? But reach out, there are those that can help—my brothers, their old ladies, and the professionals. If you’re feeling low and don’t immediately take to her, from what the doctor warned me, it’s quite normal and natural.”
Is it normal? To not immediately fall in love with my daughter?
“Listen, Al. Don’t hold it inside. Don’t feel guilty over something you have no control over. Ask for help.”
I hear another voice in the background, the words that I hate. Time’s up.
“I love you Allie, so fuckin’ much. So fuckin’ proud of you for giving our baby life.”
“I love you, too, Truck.”
“Kiss our daughter for me.”
Then he’s gone. Kiss her for him? I haven’t even touched her for me yet.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Allie…
I spend five days in the hospital after the birth. Three, I’m told is normal after a c-section, but they also wanted to get my eating under control. After months of living on nothing but sips of liquid, my stomach has shrunk. Well, on the inside that is. On the outside it surprises me I’m still carrying much of my baby bump as well as stretch marks.
Luckily I’m no longer a sweet butt. I’m hardly desirable.
Hope is doing well, her episodes of apnoea are decreasing, already she’s stronger, breathing on her own. The hypoglycaemia she suffered from at birth has been controlled and her sugar levels have risen due to the intravenous feeding.
My body, wasted and wan, still tries to follow the rules of mother nature, and my milk comes in on schedule, but despite the nurses trying to encourage me, I just didn’t want to attempt to feed her or even express milk. Deep inside, I worried I’d produce an insufficient quantity or quality to feed her. At least with formula you know you’ve got it right.
I don’t trust myself to do anything for her. When they put her in my arms, I hold her loosely, waiting for the magical bonding to start.
It doesn’t.
If it wasn’t for Truck, I would consider having her adopted.
When I return to the compound, life hasn’t changed much. My operation and need for healing means I still have to take it easy for another six weeks. Drummer, of course, assigns Hound back to me, and he drives me daily to the hospital to see Hope. Personally, I could have gone without the visits, the nurses seem to be taking care of her well enough, but they seem to be expected of me.
Hope is ready to come home before I’m prepared. The women have rallied around. I’ve been loaned a crib and all the accessories. A bottle steriliser and new bottles have appeared. Clothing, so much clothing, and a lot for a pre-term baby that she’ll hopefully not need for long. Things that would have been given at the baby shower, they assured me, though I’d waited too long to have one.
Two weeks after she arrived in the world, she comes home.
The club, naturally, throws a party.
Though I’m still tired and sore, in many ways it’s welcomed. Hope is cooed over, cuddled by all the women who call themselves Auntie, and quite a few of her many uncles get in on the act too, while I look on, just happy I don’t have to start trying to be a mom right away. I’m worried enough that I won’t be able to do it.
Except—I’m surrounded by people who all know me. Men who I look on as friends, most of whom I’ve known intimately. Women who know what it’s like to give birth, and how to look after a baby.
So why do I feel scared and alone? My sense of detachment increases.
Food is handed to me, after looking at it, seeing it moving, I put it aside. The voices seem overly loud, men who are just being jovial appear threatening.
My fingers curl into my palms, my head feels light, my breathing speeds up. There’s only one thought in my mind, to get out of here. Out into the open away from these people.
I stand, wobbling as I feel faint, and almost launch myself toward the door.
Suddenly, strong arms are around me, lifting me and carrying me out. Gently he lets me down to stand on my own feet and supports me as I struggle to get breaths of fresh air into my lungs.
“Steady, Allie. Deep breaths. In, out, in out. That’s it.” All the while a hand is stroking my back. “You’re okay, Al. It’s a panic attack. Frightening, I know. Just concentrate on your breathing.”
“Is she alright?” Sam asks sounding anxious.
“Yeah, I’ll take her back to the house.”
“Okay, Drum. Al, I’ll bring Hope up with me in a minute. Give you a chance to rest.”
Rest. Like I want more of that. “I’m alright now,” I lie. Stupidly, as anyone could see I’m still shaking.
“Come on.” Drummer obviously is intent on me not going back into the clubhouse. His arm around me, he leads me up the track slowly with regard to my still healing stomach muscles and my residual weakness.
Instead of taking me into my room, he sits me on one of the sofas, then places his ass next to mine.
“How you feeling now?”
“Better.” And embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Drummer.”
“Nah. It was probably overwhelming.”
But it shouldn’t have been. This is my life. My home. My adopted family around me.
“You know what triggered it, Allie?”
“This is going to sound crazy. The food, it looked like it was moving.”
“Truck warned me what to expect.” He’s surprised me, and my eyes open wide. “What do you mean, Truck warned you?”
“What you went through was traumatic, Allie. And trauma leaves aftereffects. Hallucinations an
d panic attacks? Classic symptoms. You getting flashbacks, too?”
“Only every time I see food and when Hope cries. It makes me feel sick, though there’s no need any more.”
“Classic PTSD as I said.”
“But that’s what soldiers get, or people who’ve been raped, or abused.” I scoff. “It doesn’t happen to someone who’s had a difficult pregnancy.”
“Difficult? Fuckin’ difficult? Darlin’, watching what you’ve been through these past months, seeing you fight as hard as any soldier in a war, seeing you battle against your body every day of the past two-thirds of a year, no one could doubt what you’ve been through isn’t trauma. Now you’re coming down, learning to live again without the constant worry, of course it’s hitting you hard. Add in lookin’ after a baby? Fuckin’ impossible to do by yourself.”
They’d told me my symptoms would go when the baby was born. Not that it would continue to affect me.
Drummer half turns, his hand comes under my chin, and tilts my head to face him. “We’re going to get you help, Allie. And don’t doubt for one fuckin’ moment, everyone here understands. You need help with Hope? You don’t even need to ask.”
“My mom hated me.”
“You don’t hate Hope. You’re scared you can’t be a good mom, but darlin’, that’s perfectly natural. Ask Sam or Sophie, hell, Becca, Ella anyone. It’s always hard, but in your case, with her being so small and fragile, more difficult than most. You feel guilty as your sickness didn’t give her the best start in life.”
“I hate Truck for not being here, Drummer. He should be here with me.” There, I’ve voiced it aloud. “I hate Hope for leaving me in this state, and I hate myself for hating.”
“Some of that’s on me, Al. I didn’t realise Truck was dealing with it too. Thought sending him out on a ride would help and focus his mind on something else. Didn’t expect his anger to bubble over.”
“Not your fault, Drummer.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I owe it to him to make sure you’re cared for in the same way you’d be if he was here with you.”
I feel so messed up, it’s hard to see how anyone can help. But slowly, gradually, with the aid of the therapist Drummer arranged, I begin to come to terms with my new world. Because I’m not breastfeeding, I’m given medication that takes the worst of my anxiety away. I sleep better, and begin to eat again, slowly regaining my weight. Sam cares for Hope as she would if she was her own, encouraging me to be involved, but not forcing me. As I get rest and am able to switch off, gradually I begin to do more things for her myself.
But I still go through the motions mechanically, doing the things I believe I should do, but don’t take any pleasure in.
One day, I’m changing her. One moment feeling like this is all I’m reduced to, a feeding and cleaning machine, when I look down at her face to see her smiling. Smiling. At me.
“Hey,” I try, my face cracking a smile back, the first in months. “You happy, baby?”
At the sound of my voice, her eyes try to focus on my face. I lean closer, “Hey, baby girl.” The smile reappears and widens as my hands tickle her sides.
For the first time, voluntarily and not to feed or change her, I pick her up, move her to the chair I use to sit and give her a bottle, and just hold her in my arms. A sudden wave of emotion comes over me. So unexpected, so strong and overwhelming that for a moment I feel the symptoms resemble the beginnings of a panic attack.
Oh my God. I love my baby.
I love Hope.
“Allie, you there?”
“Yeah, Roadkill. In here.”
When the prospect appears at the door to the bedroom, I cock my eyebrow at him.
“Can you spare a moment? Drummer wants to see you.”
“Yeah. Give me a minute.” I don’t want to move right now, but if Drummer’s got news, I want to hear it.
I quickly rummage through the stuff the women had given me for Hope, and come up with a baby sling. I figure out how to use it, and soon am entering the living room where the prospect is waiting.
“Oh? You taking her with you? I was going to stay.” Roadkill has actually proved to be a good babysitter, it’s because he comes from a big family he’s said.
But today, I don’t want to be parted from her.
Instead, he accompanies me down the track, pausing outside the suite one down from the one I used to live in before Truck went inside. He indicates with a nod of his head. “Drummer’s in there.”
“What?” Then I shrug. Perhaps Sam and he have gotten fed up with having a third child in the house. But if he wanted me to move back, I’d have appreciated a warning to get my stuff packed. And he’s in the wrong bloc for that.
I walk inside the main entrance to find him waiting just inside. For once, Drummer seems less sure of himself.
“Al,” he starts, then stops, his eyes going from Hope to me. “Al,” he tries again. “Don’t read anything into this. You can stay with Sam and me as long as you want to. Just did this for when your man comes home. You can decide with him what you want to do, but if you want to have a house built alongside the others, that will take time. Thought this would do for you in the meantime.”
“What do you mean, Drummer? This is Peg’s old suite.”
“Exactly,” he confirms. “Thought it would make a home for you and the kid when you’re ready.” He opens the door with a flare to the room that has been converted to a sitting room, the bathroom off to one side becoming a kitchenette. It’s been freshly painted and so clean you could probably eat food off the floor. Best of all, a comfortable sofa and chairs have been arranged facing a brand new flat screen TV, and there’s even a small dining table that could be pulled out. Though she’s far too young to use it yet, a highchair is placed against the wall.
I glance around, then walk back through the door and take the step that leads to the bedroom. This has been newly decorated as well, and is laid out just the same as Truck’s, but with a big space in the middle where a bed would be, though a brand-new crib has been set up by the wall . Both rooms have balconies looking out over the mountains.
I turn around slowly, balancing Hope in the sling. “You did this for Truck and me?”
“It’s to tide you over, until you settle on your own place. Or, you can stay here indefinitely.”
The idea of having a house built with a bedroom for Hope and a small enclosed yard similar to the ones the other houses have sounds amazing. But this would certainly do for now.
Drummer sees the small smile on my face, but doesn’t mention it. He does appear pleased by my reaction and presses his point. “Viper and Bullet will construct the house to your specification. I can get them to show you some plans so you can get some ideas if you like?”
But it’s not just me who’ll be moving in. “I’d better wait for Truck for that.”
He laughs. “As long as it’s got a place to watch TV, a fridge to keep beer and a garage for bikes, that’s all a man’s interested in. Whatever you come up with Al, Truck will just be pleased to live in it with you.”
I flash him a quick grin as I’m expected to.
“As I said, Allie. Don’t think we’re chucking you out. You want to move in here? Do. You find it’s too much? Come back to us.”
I glance down at Hope, fluffy down covering her head. Then back to him. “It’s time I tried to cope on my own, isn’t it?”
“You’ve come on leaps and bounds. But only you know if it’s too soon. You say the word and I’ll get the prospects to move Truck’s bed and your stuff in.”
I sigh heavily. “I just miss Truck, Drummer. Seems we had no time together before he was sent down. Now I can’t even visit. He can’t meet his baby.”
Drummer’s mouth hardens. “Darlin’, no, you can’t. He’s still in fuckin’ solitary.”
“They can’t keep him there for another six months, can they?”
“Who knows, Al? Who knows what the fuck they can do.”
Having found a conn
ection with Hope, I decide Drummer’s timing had been perfect. I move into what’s more like an apartment rather than two adjacent suites, and start settling in and making a home for myself and my daughter, always aware of the third in my family that’s missing. I try to push my worry for him to the back of my mind. Selfishly, while I know Truck must be going crazy, I tell myself, at least in solitary, no one can physically hurt him. If I’m going to tackle being a mother alone, it’s me and Hope I have to focus on, and try not to drive myself mad worrying about him.
It’s about a week since I first left Drummer’s and Sam’s, and I’m getting myself and Hope ready for the outing I’m not looking forward to, when a knock comes on the door.
Hope’s fussing and I’m trying to soothe her, so I just call out for whoever it is to come in.
“Oh, hi, Sandy.” I’m still slightly nervous around her, though she’s been nothing but pleasant over the past few months.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, nodding her head at the crying baby. I notice there’s concern but no censure, nothing to suggest I’m an incompetent mother.
“I don’t know.”
“Want me to take her while you finish getting ready?”
I’d rather use the excuse I’ve got a fussing baby and not go, but should put in an appearance. I accept her offer, and return to the bedroom. I haven’t worn makeup in months, but I put a little on to make myself presentable. The sounds from the other room lessen, and when I return, Hope’s asleep in a triumphant looking Sandy’s arms.
I mouth a heartfelt thank you.
“You look nice.”
I don’t, but I’ll take the compliment.
“This is an important day for Heart. I’m glad you’re going to support him and Marcia.”
I shrug. If I could get out of it I would, but Sandy is right. Heart’s doing something he’d said he’d never do, making it official and marrying Marcia. It’s a year later than planned though, as she wanted to give birth before walking down the aisle. The time’s come now as Marcia’s regained her figure. Unlike myself, I don’t think mine is ever going to come back.
Truck Stopped: Satan's Devils MC #11 Page 33
