When Fable was born Hal had to go back to work right away. Fable was born at 3:23 am and five hours later Hal was in his car on his way to The Valley, because television shows have deadlines even though babies are only born once. After work, Hal returned to the hospital, his eyes heavy, dark. He handed me a sandwich and I handed him our daughter who he held and gazed at and smiled down on, her hand wrapped tight around his ring finger. And I wondered if he was in love with her yet.
How long does it take? Does he feel it, now? What about now? Is he there yet?
The first four plus months of Fable's life Hal was working, a relief financially and also quiet. With an easy baby we had no sleepless nights. No fighting. No threatening each other. No question marks haunting our dreams, our sentences. Such is life without the stress of the unknown. Hal had a job lined up for when his job ended and we were in love again, knew each other well enough to talk without screaming, touched our pieced together flesh, appreciating scars.
"We're so lucky," we said to each other. "New baby and you're not unemployed this time. New baby and we're older."
Except the job fell through last minute because television shows have a tendency to forget to keep their promises. And Hal once again was unemployed.
A part of me was afraid. Of the fighting, the arguing about money, the frantic Craigslist searches and me emailing every magazine trying to sell ideas to out of order machines. Sorry, we're not interested. We already wrote that piece. Something like it. Try again. Come back later. No solicitors.
And then I stepped away from my fear, hands in my lap. I looked away long enough to watch Hal cradle his daughter in his arms. He didn't have to go to work, kiss her forehead as she slept, to say goodbye. He got to be with her, bond with her, much like he was able to do with Archer.
Blessings in our pockets...
Such is life with the stress of the unknown. Except without the stress part. Have we changed so much that we can wake up well-rested? Lean on each other instead of our parents, our friends we once confided in when we couldn't confide in each other. Express ourselves without I hate yous because he understands that I need space and I am aware of his need to provide, his feelings of weakness and vulnerability when he cannot.
Has it become possible for us to speak without raising our voices higher and higher until we all fall down? Can we press our faces to one another to catch a buzz? Inhale without exhaling smoke?
It seems that yes we can. We do. Cause you've come a long way, baby.
Six weeks of Hal's unemployment later I have stopped wondering if he finally fell in love. One day his eyes just sparkled.
With Fable, 2009
He was
there yet, serenading Fable with his guitar in the middle of the night because she doesn't go to bed until we do.
Not without a fight or hundreds of them.
Just like Hal rocked Archer to sleep those early months. When his full-time job was understanding what it meant to be a father, self-taught like he had known the secret all along. Like he still does.
Now, pushing Fable's stroller behind me, behind Archer who insists on being the leader and "follow me, everyone! Into town where there are smoothies." All of us in a crooked line, one after another.
Don't worry, I'm right behind you.
We can survive for another few months on what money I make and unemployment. Confident that a job will find him or us, that we'll soon be back in the thick of our normal routine. For now, though, there is much to be celebrated in how far we've come, the sparkles in all of our eyes even as we brace for the possibility of darkness. We have owned the night before and can once again conquer it if need be. The blessings in our pockets are like fireflies.
Look for lemonade and silver linings. And don't forget to tell him how much you love him for wearing the Baby Bjorn this time around.
We're all in this together. Take my hand.
GGC
