mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

n. don't forget to comment, it means a lot to me and inspires me to write more :)

— CHAPTER FIFTEEN —

august, year two.

Six months after giving birth, I wake up in sheets that are lightly spotted with my blood.

It's the first time I've had an official period since May of the year before—back when I had gotten pregnant with Edie in the first place; something that we traced back to what we believed to be our wedding night in Vegas. Over the course of my pregnancy, there were instances of spotting; all of it was completely normal and natural for undergoing pregnancy. For all of its ups and downs, I had come to appreciate that I wasn't bleeding out once a month and enduring horrible cramps and all of the other unruly aspects of periods.

That being said, pleasurable as I found it to not have to deal with monthly menstruation, there is a shiver of excitement that courses through me upon this morning's realization. Slowly, but steadily, my body is returning back to normal. My body is healing and moving on from the trauma of giving birth. The more time that I spend with my beautiful baby girl, the more that I find that I am moving on, too. That I may also move past the horrors of giving birth when that had been the scariest thing in the world to me. More recently, I've begun to question whether being pregnant was the fear, or if it was the threat of losing my child.

Harry isn't home when I wake up. Every once in a while we are dragged into the overnight shifts that no one wants. We're no longer interns and we have priority in this sense, but there are still some shifts that become unavoidable.

Last night, he was at the hospital.

This morning, I wake up to an empty bed. I'm grateful for this: grateful that I don't have to wake him up to strip the sheets so that the blood doesn't set in. Balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I bring the bundle down to the laundry room off the side of the kitchen, I dial his number, knowing that he should be on his way home soon.

He answers on the second ring. "Morning, kid. Sorry I'm not home. Thought I would get out earlier."

"No, no it's fine. Can you do me a favor?"

I can hear the rustling on his end of the phone as he nods his head. A yawn is stifled by his laughter when he realizes that I can't hear him nodding alongside my words. "Yes, yeah, sorry." He laughs, and I can hear the directional in his car indicating that he is on his way home.

Guilt pools in my stomach for just a moment as I realize that I am delaying him from returning home and collapsing into bed. He's earned it. Overnight shifts aren't easy in the first place, but they are much harder as new parents of a newborn baby. Already our sleep schedules are scrambled.

It melts my heart that he immediately agrees to the favor. That he doesn't question what, even when he is as tired as he is. I know that I would do this for him, too. Perhaps that is where he finds his strength in moments like these. "Can you please stop at the store and pick up some pads and tampons for me? I started my period again and I don't want to get Edie up and out this early." I explain. Normally, I wouldn't think twice about going myself. Especially now with Ruth at home with us. It's like when Fitzy was around again: we have a third parent to help when things get tough. But, today, Ruth is getting up and ready for her own shift at the hospital. Relying on her to watch our daughter is hardly fair to her.

"Absolutely. Text me what you need. Chocolate?"

"You're too good."

"I'll hook you up kid, don't worry. See you soon. Love you." I can tell that he blows a kiss into the phone, the sound of it lingering across the empty space between us. I blow one back, repeating the sentiment to him before hanging up.