(It's Saturday and I'm somehow needing cheat notes for conversations that should have been harder but weren't. Idn't dat fullish, b'y as Jake would say, untranslated by me. Yes, isn't that foolish.)
Jacob's look when he came inside and found me holding Gabe as he slept blissfully spoke volumes I've never read before. He came over and looked down at Gabe and then back at me and asked if I was okay.
I nodded.
I've pretty much managed to avoid so much contact with Gabe (and other babies) up until now. I've stayed home on dedication days through the winter and politely declined to attend baptisms and birthdays. I've sent dozens of presents out with other people. Mostly the dedications, because seeing Jacob holding a baby might tear my heart into pieces.
It did. It totally did.
Gabe woke up shortly after Jake returned and when he did I passed him to Jacob to hold while I sorted through the bag for a new diaper and when I turned back to get Gabe the sight of Jacob holding him hurt a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. He knew it did and he quickly put Gabe on the blanket on the floor that I had spread out to change him on.
It was yet another lesson in learning to pretend things don't hurt for the presence of future adults who have nothing to do with your own bullshit. Such is life, maybe I have more tools than I realize. I swallowed that pain like it was just a bitter lemon and it was gone.
Happy dysfunction, as we pretended everything was just ducky for the remainder of our afternoon with Gabe and when his mom picked him up we gave him back with a weird mixture of complete relief and a fleeting hint of agonizing regret. Jacob closed the door and I fell into a chair, worn out.
When suddenly I realized I hadn't been pretending to have fun, I did have fun.
I'm proud of you.
For what? Not trying to slip in my agenda of converting the world to cloth diapers?
Well, maybe that, but mostly for not making Gabe aware that it was hard for you to spend time with him.
It always worked for you.
Oh, Bridge.
I'm sure he knew. Babies sense things.
So do grown men.
Oh, that smarts.
You're beautiful.
So are you, Jacob. (losing it now, of course)
I must be. I got the call this morning. I'm booked in for early September. (Vasectomy! Oog.)
Oh God. Are we ready for this?
Are you kidding? As miraculous as Gabriel was, as any child would be, it's nice when they go home, and it's nice in the evenings when the kids go to bed and I have you all to myself, selfish bastard that I am. I've spent the winter dedicating new lives to God and watching families grow and we're growing in a different way, we're growing roots. We're building our foundation and making our permanence and we don't need a third child to do that. We've got everything we need. I have the most amazing wife and my children, my girl and my boy and we're complete. I got past the want, princess. It was one of those idealistic romanticized fool's errands and it's passed now. It's been gone for a long time.
Not a regret?
I have no regrets. You?
So, so many, Jake.
Let 'em go, baby girl. It's a weight you weren't meant to carry. Let's close that chapter and start a new one.
Now you sound like me.
Yeah, except I don't have your ridiculous Nova Scotia accent.
Hey now, calm your jealousy.
I'm pretending you didn't just say that.
