Our Story

054

After Bucky was able to reset his jaw, calm his flared nostrils, slow his breathing, get his blood flowing at a slower pace, and got rid of the revenge filled thoughts to bring harm to anyone who dared to touch his son, the appointment went by a lot smoother. Noah stayed in Bucky's lap with his small hands holding his father's thumbs that rubbed over the small bandaids on his son's thighs while I talked with Frank, Lovel, and Gina. Most of it was how much Noah was eating, how his attitude has been doing, if he expressed any discomfort in anything, how often we are bathing him, the amount of spit up he produces, his waste colors, if he is sleeping like he should be which they were all surprised to find out that Bucky and I didn't really wake up throughout the night unless Noah was starving according to my magic or he had a messy diaper and usually, those feedings and cleanings went by quick so Bucky, Noah, and I were all sleeping once again in about an hour after waking up.

When everything we needed to talk about Noah and the first- almost, two weeks of him being here was talked about, Gina led the conversation about me. Me as in how my uterus is doing, how I am feeling, if I have been feeling depressed or if something is off. I explained that I was sad to not be pregnant anymore but the more time I spend with Noah, the more he gets my mind off of everything and she nodded, not seeing too much of an issue with me distracting myself but she wants to keep an eye on my emotions throughout the next postpartum appointments. The inevitable conversation about when Bucky and I would be able to have sex again came up and the two of us froze, giving a glance to each other because for the past few weeks, we haven't been thinking about that kind of stuff at all.

Hard to believe, I know.

Then, of course, that conversation led to if I wanted my birth control implanted back into my arm and I furrowed my eyebrows, not completely liking that question but when I looked at Bucky and he gave me a small nod, we both knew that we need to take things easy and be careful this time so, I said yes. Frank did it right in the office and though I was terrified about it drying my milk up, when he heard I was pumping around a gallon of milk a day which if you aren't aware, the average mother produces under one liter of milk and I am over here, producing a whole ass gallon that isn't being fed to my son. He reassured me that it usually slows production of milk so it will be a good thing since Noah obviously cannot drink a gallon of milk a day and I won't be pouring wasted milk down the drain.

And before you ask me, I did save it but there was too much.

We ran out of room for groceries when my milk bags took up most of the freezer.

"Okay." I sigh after Frank gives me one last hug and leaves with his student nurses so I can take a breath and drop my head into my hands. "God, I don't know if I want to cry or sleep and hope my overwhelming, confusing feelings and emotions are gone." I huff and run my hands through my hair before feeling Bucky's warm hand on my back

"Everything will get easier as the days and weeks go on, my doll." Bucky confidently says and softly rubs my back in reassurance. "You have to give this some time. I know it's all still new and I am scared too, but we are alright." He tries his best to console me and I can tell but sometimes, you just don't have the right words to give someone when they are feeling down

Or feeling whatever I am feeling.

Which I can not decipher at the moment.

"I was sleeping in bed with no worries or responsibilities two weeks ago and now I am surrounded by doctors and always bleeding!" I stress and stand up, my fingers still tangled in my messy hair as I walk throughout the room. "I haven't stopped seeing blood since my water broke! This was supposed to be easy! I was told it was easy! That I would love this! I shouldn't be changing my pad every hour or going through my underwear because there is so much!" I panic slightly and Bucky stands up, readjusting Noah in his hold when he comes over and rests a hand on my shoulder that gets me to stop and I drop my hands, pouting under the strands of hair thrown over my face, like I am trying to hide from the world