Let Them In (Book 3.0) -INTERSEX

Chapter 18

Faith

I'm half asleep when I hear Grayson's voice, "Mama." Groggily, I turn over and squint at the clock. 6:45 AM. The soft morning light filters through the pale blue curtains, casting a calm glow on the cozy bedroom.

We still have a few more minutes to sleep. I lift Grayson into my bed, laying him against my chest. He looks up at me with big, pleading eyes, and in a tiny voice, he whines, "Milkies."

"No, baby, we don't do milkies anymore," I remind him gently, laying his head back on my chest. I softly kiss his forehead, and he snuggles closer to me. "You're a big boy now, remember?" He nods sleepily, his eyes already starting to close.

The cotton sheets are soft and cool against our skin, inviting us back into slumber. I pull the blanket over us, his tiny body adding a comforting weight. I feel him reach up, his little fingers playing with a strand of my hair, a habit he's had since he was a baby.

Grayson is two now, but it's taken him a year to completely wean off breast milk. When he pleads enough, Teagan or I will give him some milk from the leftover stash in the freezer, pumped months ago. I no longer produce any, but sometimes he forgets and bats his eyes at me, hoping for some.

I think about having my breasts full of milk again for the next baby, and I'm unsure if I'm ready. It scares me to bring another child into this world, not being on good terms with the father. I feel a familiar ache in my chest as I recall the nights spent crying over George's absence, the growing baby inside me a constant reminder of his betrayal.

Finally, the alarm goes off. Grayson and I sit up in bed, both of us still tired. I lift his little arms, encouraging both of us to wake up. "Let's stretch, little man," I coax. He does a big stretch, arms crossing behind his head as he pokes his big belly out from under his night shirt, which is covered in toy cars. "That's it, biggggg stretch."

We get up, and I go to Grayson's room to find him some clothes. As I step into it, I beam at the cheerful space Teagan, and I had put together. The walls are painted a soothing pastel blue and decorated with colorful decals of animals and trees. The Montessori bed sits low on the floor, its blankets featuring Grayson's favorite cartoon characters. The room is filled with toys, books, and learning materials, all neatly arranged on shelves and in cubbies. But today, the floor is littered with toys, remnants of Gray's playtime adventures.

"Grayson, how about we sing our clean-up song and put your toys away together?" I suggest starting to hum the familiar tune.

His face lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. "Cwean-up song!" He loves music and singing, and this song has become our unique way to make cleaning up more fun.

Together, we sing the catchy tune, him following along as I point to the toys and demonstrate where they belong. He giggles and begins to pick up his toys, placing them in the appropriate bins and on the shelves.

"This...here!" he exclaims, his little voice filled with pride as he successfully sorts his toys.

"Great job, Grays!" I encourage him, watching as he scurries around the room with his ginger curls bouncing.

I can't help but laugh when he picks up a stuffed dinosaur, holds it close, and sings, "Mr. Dino, time a go homes!" As we continue cleaning and singing, I feel a warmth in my heart. These little moments with my son are precious, and I cherish each one.

I finally choose an outfit and get him dressed. Afterward, I put some cream in his hair and comb through his head full of curls. It's a bit of a mystery how Grayson ended up with his ginger hair. Nobody in our family has that color, and we've spent hours poring over old family photos, trying to find a clue. We all chalked it up to being somewhere down Goerge's family line because I swore one day, I spotted a picture of Goerge's great aunt with the exact same shade.