When I broke my arm, I thought the hardest part would be caring for my five-month-old twins while I healed. I was wrong. The real pain came from realizing how little my husband understood about what I carried every day, and how far I’d have to go to make him see it.
“Hope?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Derek stood in the doorway of my mom’s living room, staring at Luke in her arms, Miles in mine, and the diaper bag I’d packed for more than one night.
His face changed.
“Hope?”
“Why are the boys staying here?”
I looked at him.
“Because my arm is broken, Derek.”
“I know that.”
“Apparently you don’t. You don’t even understand that I need help.”
“Why are the boys staying here?”
His eyes moved to the folded sheet of paper on the coffee table. It was the schedule he’d refused to follow the night before.
Then he looked back at me.
“You took my kids and left?”
“Our kids.”
“Bring them home.”
“No.”
“You took my kids and left?”
His jaw tightened.
“Hope.”
“No.”
For five months, I’d spent every day figuring things out before Derek had to notice there was a problem.
Then I broke my arm.
And for the first time, I couldn’t keep doing his half too.
Then I broke my arm.
***
Two days before I went to Mom’s, I was sitting on the nursery floor trying to snap Luke’s sleeper with my left hand.
My right arm was trapped in a cast.
Miles had started fussing behind me, and my tea sat untouched on the changing table.
Derek walked in, stepped around a basket of clean laundry, and loosened his tie.
“What’s for dinner, Hope?”
I stopped fighting with the sleeper.
“My arm is broken.”
He glanced at the cast.
“I know.”
I waited.
“What’s for dinner, Hope?”
“So?”
“So what?”
I stared at him.
“I was hoping you’d remember what kitchens are for. Or at least know how takeout works.”
He didn’t smile.
“I worked ten hours today.”
“So what?”
“And I fell down the stairs yesterday.”
The doctor put my fractured arm in a cast and told me not to lift Luke or Miles with it while it healed.
I looked toward Miles.
“Can you get him?”
Derek checked his phone.
“I haven’t even changed yet.”
“And I fell down the stairs yesterday.”
“He doesn’t care what you’re wearing.”
“Hope.”
“What?”
“I just got home.”
“So did you stop being their father in the driveway?”
His mouth tightened.
“I just got home.”
“I pay the bills.”
“And?”
“And I’m not coming home to start another shift.”
That word sat between us.
Another.
Like fatherhood was overtime.
“I pay the bills.”
“I need help for a few weeks,” I said. “Come home an hour earlier when you can. Take a day if you have one. Ask if you can work from home sometimes.”
“I have a job.”
“So did I before maternity leave.”
“Exactly. You’re home now.”
“With two babies.”
“So did I before maternity leave.”
“You’re better at this anyway.”
“I’m doing it more. That’s why I’m better.”
Miles started crying.
Derek sighed like the sound offended him.
“Can’t you just handle him?”
“With one arm?”
“You have another one.”
“You’re better at this anyway.”
I went quiet.
Then he shrugged.
“You’re the one who wanted kids.”
My head came up.
“We wanted them. You were the one showing me nursery ideas before I was even pregnant.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’re the one who wanted kids.”
“No, I don’t, Derek. I don’t even know who you are right now.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I’m exhausted, Hope. Moms don’t get sick days.”
I looked down at my cast.
“I’m injured.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“I don’t even know who you are right now.”
I stared at him.
“I’m asking you to help me a little.”
“You take care of them. That’s your job.”
He walked out.
Miles kept crying.
Luke grabbed the edge of my cast with both hands.
“You take care of them. That’s your job.”
I gently freed myself and whispered, “Okay. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got it. I’m fine.
I’d been saying both for too long.
***
My mom, Noelle, came over the next afternoon.
She found me wiping formula off the counter with my good hand while Luke kicked in his seat.
“Okay. I’ve got you.”
“Hope.”
“I’m almost done.”
She took the cloth from me.
“Sit.”
“Mom, it’s sticky.”
“It’ll still be sticky in five minutes.”
“I’m almost done.”
I sat.
She found my tea in the microwave.
“You reheated this already?”
“Twice.”
Mom knew I cleaned when I was overwhelmed.
She made me a fresh cup.
“You reheated this already?”
“Where’s Derek?”
“Work.”
“And when he gets home?”
“He’ll be tired, of course.”
Mom gave me a look.
I took a sip.
“I’m fine.”
“He’ll be tired, of course.”
“There’s that voice you use when you’re lying to me, Hope.”
I looked away.
Mom didn’t lecture me. She just helped with the boys, washed bottles, made dinner, and left after we’d eaten.
***
That night, Miles woke first.
Then Luke followed with his loud cries.
I nudged Derek.
“There’s that voice you use when you’re lying to me, Hope.”
“Can you take Luke?”
He rolled onto his stomach.
“I have work.”
“So?”
“I have to be up in four hours.”
Luke’s crying grew louder.
“I have to be up in four hours.”
“So do I.”
“No, you don’t.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
“You can sleep when they sleep.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I got up.
“What does that mean?”
Luke was still crying when Derek pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
***
Three nights later, Mom called.
“My car won’t start. I can’t make it over.”
I looked at the twins. Both badly needed a bath.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“Don’t try bathing them alone.”
“My car won’t start. I can’t make it over.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll wait for Derek to get home. Promise.”
When he came home, I met him near the kitchen.
“I need you to bathe the boys tonight.”
He dropped his keys into the bowl.
“I need you to bathe the boys tonight.”
“I just walked in, Hope. Don’t you think you’re being a bit ridiculous right now?”
“I know.”
“Skip it.”
“They need one.”
“Use a washcloth and warm water. That’s what tired mothers do.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit ridiculous right now?”
“Derek.”
He sighed.
“I’ve been working all day.”
“So have I.”
He looked at me like I’d said something ridiculous.
“Why should I have to come home and take care of the kids too?”
“I’ve been working all day.”
I stopped.
“Too?”
“What?”
“You said ‘too.'”
“So?”
“You think this is what I do after my day?”
“You stay home.”
I stopped.
“With Luke and Miles.”
“You stay home and do nothing all day.”
For once, I didn’t defend myself.
I just said, “Okay.”
Derek frowned.
“Okay what?”
“Nothing.”
I didn’t defend myself.
He stared at me.
“Don’t do that calm thing.”
“What calm thing?”
“The thing where you stop talking.”
He knew I hated conflict and usually kept talking until everybody felt better.
Mostly him.
“Don’t do that calm thing.”
