what now? | outerbanks

• one hundred twenty-five •

Sarah

Sofia thought it was best if she spent some time at her parents' house. She wasn't going to tell them anything, she said, just that she and Rafe got into an argument.
She's probably right—it'll be good for her. But I'm still worried. No matter how much she tries to explain, they won't get it. I don't think anyone will get it the way I do, and I hate that.
So, now, like most days, it's just Will and I.
After a solid five minutes of letting her scream uncontrollably in her bassinet, I decided today would have to be a contact nap day. The doctor has been suggesting that I let her cry it out for longer, teach her to soothe herself, but that's much easier said than done. I can't bear listening to her cry like this. I can't help but wonder, Does she think I left her? Does she think I don't love her anymore?
I stand at the door for a few more seconds, hand on the doorknob, waiting for her to miraculously fall asleep, before carefully entering and scooping her up. Instantly, upon seeing my face, Willa smiles.
It's this big, open-mouthed, goofy smile. It's all gum.
She's been doing this weird sort of smirk thing all week long, but this is the first time I've seen her actually smile. And she's smiling at me. I melt.
"Oh my goodness," I whisper, already smiling back at her like an idiot. "Was that a smile?"
Her mouth opens a little wider.
"Are you smiling at Mama?"
She makes this breathy sound, almost like a laugh, and kicks her legs against the foot of the bassinet.
I laugh quietly, trying hard not to cry at this sudden proof of growth. "You are so sweet, honey," I coo, pulling out my phone to snap a picture for John B. I make silly faces at her so she'll smile at the camera. "Daddy's gonna be jealous!" I squeal.
Willa smiles even wider.
"Oh no," I gasp dramatically. "Daddy is not going to be happy about missing this."
She kicks her legs again, arms waving like she's trying to tell me something very important.
"You're gonna have to show him when he gets home from work." I hold my phone up higher and take a few more pictures. She is enthralled by it, lifting her neck slightly, as much as she can, as if maybe she'll be able to reach it herself.
I quickly slip the phone in my pocket before she becomes obsessed with it. "Hi, sweet girl," I hum as I lift her into my arms. "Do you want to take a nap with Mama?"
With her in my arms, I sway from side to side, and she stares back up with the same big eyes I never get tired of. Her little body melts into me, cheek pressing against my collarbone.
I don't know why, but all of a sudden, my eyes start burning. We do this every day, multiple times a day, but something about this moment right now stops me.
Maybe it's because I've been waiting for this. For weeks, I've been watching her change in tiny increments. Her expressions are different every day. Her little noises are changing. She's starting to look at things longer. She's starting to recognize voices.
Today feels different. This feels like she actually looked at me and knew who I was, like she was happy to see me.
I press another kiss to her hair. "You know me, don't you?"
She doesn't answer, obviously. Instead, she yawns. A huge, dramatic baby yawn that makes her whole face scrunch up.
I laugh. "Sleepy, sleepy girl," I whisper against her fingers, kissing her palm. "Someone's fighting sleep just like her daddy."
She grins again, and it doesn't help the tears threatening to spill over.
"Your daddy stays up way too late, especially when he's stuck down some crazy rabbit hole. Which is a trait I'm hoping you didn't inherit."
I bounce her gently against my chest.
"He says he just gets interested in things, which is a very nice way of saying he gets obsessed with random crap at two in the morning."
Willa's eyes blink slowly.
"Exactly." I kiss her forehead. "You agree with Mama."
I stand there for another moment, just holding her. She's getting heavier. Not by much, but enough that I can feel it in my arms.
And honestly, I'm tired too. My whole body feels heavy from the lack of sleep. My eyes burn. My shoulders ache. I can't remember the last time I slept for more than a few hours without waking up to check on her.
She grunts, snuggling her face into my skin.
"I think we're both tired." I adjust my grip. "Let's go downstairs."
I carry her out of the bedroom and down the stairs, moving slowly so I don't jostle her too much. By the time I reach the sofa, she's already starting to settle against me. I sit down carefully, leaning back into the cushions. It feels like the whole house sighs with me. A moment of peace, finally.
Willa lies against my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin. I pull the blanket over us both, cradling her closer as I get fully comfortable.
"Mama's sleepy," I whisper. "Go night-night so Mama can rest."
I keep my lips pressed on the top of her head for a long time, mumbling songs I hope she remembers one day, praying quietly for peace and health and safety. I keep us there, close and touching, until her eyes close completely and her mouth pouts, open against my chest. I run my fingers gently over the back of her head.
I smile. "There you go." My voice is barely above a whisper.
I keep my hand there, slowly smoothing over her hair again and again. I don't even know what song I'm humming anymore. It's something my mom used to sing to me. Then Evelyn, when Wheezie was still small. And now me. I don't even remember all of the words, but she doesn't care.
My eyes feel impossibly heavy. I blink hard. "I'm just gonna sit here for a little while," I whisper, mostly to myself. I let my head fall back against the sofa.
This is nice. No crying. No worrying. No trying to figure out why she's upset or whether she's hungry or tired or uncomfortable. Just her, warm and still and squishy against my chest.
She squirms a little and weasels her hand between her cheek and my skin. I know that after an hour, those little fingers are going to leave an indent in my skin, red and hot and sweaty. And I know I'll miss it when it's gone. I want to have these parts of her for the rest of my life.
"You're gonna wake up and not remember any of this." I trace one finger along her tiny cheek. "But Mama will."
My eyes close again. I can feel myself slipping.
Maybe tomorrow I'll try again. Maybe I'll listen to the doctor and let her fuss a little longer. Maybe I'll figure out how to convince myself that a few minutes of crying doesn't mean she thinks I've abandoned her.
But not today. Today, I want her here.
I don't even realize when the humming stops. Or when my breathing starts matching hers. The last thing I register is the warmth of her against me and the tiny weight of her hand trapped between her cheek and my chest.