𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺-𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳.

𝘊𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘗.𝘖.𝘝.

I quietly unlocked the door, locking it once I entered the apartment. I put the keys away and entered the nursery, staying soundless as my little son is sleeping in the baby carrier. 

I gently took him and laid him on the changing table to gently, carefully dress him in lovely, rich blue PJs and soft socks. Once he was set for sleep, I laid him in the crib, tucked my sweetie in before kissing his cheek and letting him get much-needed rest. 

Once the door of his nursery closed, I took the baby carrier off, sighing as my built-up backache and soreness in my arms intensified after another day of carrying Tom around. I quickly wiped away my tear and put the carrier away neatly before doing my usual nighttime routine: very brief shower, change of clothes, brushed teeth and counting of money I earned today to see what I can save up, what is for bills and what is for rent. 

Usual to me routine by now. 

I couldn't do what I hoped for once I returned from the hospital with my newborn son. 

I had no money and no food, therefore, I had to return to work after staying with Tomas in the apartment for a week. I simply couldn't afford to spend time with him like that any longer.

Flower lady, picker of strawberries, dog walking, nanny in a kindergarten, cook and tutor in a few families - jobs that I can do with my small boy by my side. This isn't ideal by any means, I wish he could stay at our tiny home, play and spend time with me peacefully, instead of having to be with me at work from as soon as he wakes up till the latest hours. But it is what I have to do to provide for him. 

I am so grateful for being able to breastfeed my little boy, it saves me so much money and gives me a chance to save up the money I could be spending on formulas. Since I have only Sunday evening free, I try to be present with my tiny boy then: we play and cuddle, I tell him stories, draw by his side and do my best to get some little workouts done while playing with Tom. Those mere hours can never be enough, but I am thankful for having them and being able to enjoy motherhood during those peaceful hours. 

I sat on a sofa, putting money in little envelopes: for rent, for bills, for Tom's items, for emergencies, for medicine, for food. The last is my last concern, I can manage with 1 meal a day. The other things are way more important. 

"Just 2 600 pounds."- I whispered, closing my eyes as I counted the money for the rent. 

Rent that I must hand in tomorrow. I need another 400 pounds now. 

Without any second thoughts, I took money from the envelope for food and took the needed 400 pounds, leaving the leftover 100 pounds there - enough for a month and a bit. 

Once I finished with the crucial task, I gave myself time to relax after tiring 19 hours of hecticness and work. I took the blanket, unfolding it carefully, and just as I laid down, quiet, but audible sounds echoed in the nursery, making me get up to check on my baby boy.

"Hello, my little world."- I said softly with a smile, gently kissing Tomie's tiny hands as he chuckled, smiling and moving his little legs. 

"Why my precious boy isn't sleeping, mhm?"- I wondered, lovingly picking him up in my arms as he nuzzled into me, laying his perfect face in the crook of my neck - his habit. 

The habit that Sandro had too. 

Just like the habit of clutching my hand when sleeping, nuzzling cheeks into my touch, frowning when upset or confused, possessive little grabs and snuggles, satisfied hums when I rub his small head or back.

They are, dare I say, identical. It makes me so happy, yet it hurts me because it doesn't let me forget him, as he forgot me. 

I kissed Tomas's hand tenderly, took his favourite plush elephant and went to the living room since there is nowhere for me to sit down and I cannot stand up any longer. 

"Shhh, get some sleep, my universe."- I whispered to him, affectionately caressing his little head, smiling as a cute, wholesome hum of enjoyment escaped from my sweet son. 

I rocked him gently, eventually having to walk around since in a sitting position rocking did nothing to soothe him down. After some 30 minutes, Tomas fell asleep, but full-on refused to leave my arms - something he tends to do from time to time.

I sat down and wrapped us in a blanket before curling in a small ball in the corner to have an armrest to lean on. I glanced at my son, smiling at my precious angel as he is sleeping soundly, healthy and safe in my arms. 

Tomasso grew up in 1 month and I see it. I wouldn't say he changed drastically in size, he is still very petite. Those changes are noticeable in his reactions, curiosity and activeness: he is a very chatty sweetheart; he loves to try to grab anything new and feel its texture; he likes to look around new places, especially buildings and fountains; he is a hyper baby - it takes a lot to wear him out fully. Yet he is the most peaceful and the quietest little boy: I don't struggle to soothe him to sleep; he sleeps almost the entire night; he isn't causing any trouble with his feedings. 

All those changes are something Sandro is missing out and no matter how much I try to capture everything, how often I leave voice messages, how much I try to remember to tell him everything new and cute our baby boy did, it will never be enough and it hurts more than words can tell. 

I wish he could see his son and witness every tiny change. I wish our son had his dad by his side. 

"Shh, everything is okay."- I soothed Tom softly, quickly wiping away tears, the sight of which gets him sad and makes him cry so much. 

"Shhh, mummy is okay."- I said lovingly, smiling at my precious boy as he woke up with a frown that quickly turned into a pout and stormy grey eyes became full of tears.

"No, no, mummy is alright. No need to cry, my little world."- I spoke vulnerably, pecking his tiny hands and cheeks, but he wasn't having it. 

Tomas cried in my arms, reaching for my cheeks with such a concerned look, making me shatter. 

I hate when he cries. I hate showing such bad emotions near him. I hate that I cannot control myself. I hate upsetting my baby boy. 

"Shh, I am okay, I am here. Everything is fine, Tomie, I promise."- I whispered, hugging my tiny treasure, feeling another piece of my heart shatter as another tear rushed down his cheek. 

I kissed his tears away, calming my small angel down until he was okay again and fell asleep, pressing into me more, as if making sure I know he is here, that I have him by my side and he will make sure I am not alone. 

And God knows, he is indeed my only hope. 

The only reason why I am still alive and do something with my life. 

I am a disappointment. I haven't achieved anything in my life and I lost more than I, probably, should have at the age of 21. I am handling countless jobs for the mere money that finds where to disappear and in the beginning of each new month leaves me with tiny savings. 

My son is the only motivation I have left: to give him a better life, to give him all of my love and care, to give him all opportunities in this world, to make his birthdays and holidays bright and joyful, to be able to buy him everything he wants, to provide a healthy diet for him, to ensure his fun sports activities of his choice in the future and God, I can only hope to ear someday on a home for us - somewhere cosy, airy, warm, secure and beautiful, instead of this miniature, poor apartment.

"I love you so much, Tomie."- I spoke softly, quieting my tears, holding my world tightly in my arms, taking a deep breath of his baby scent: something so sweet, yet gentle and neutral, something that is his and keeps my wrecked, torn apart heart sane.