THE STARS ARE BEAUTIFUL - WATTYS AWARD NEW ADULT WINNER 2019

Callum | 30

WHILE A ROOM FULL of mothers breathed out a chant of "Hee-hee-Whoooooo," Everly only sat quietly and observed. It was our first and only Lamaze class. I had assured her I was more than equipped to help her breathe through labor—mostly as a comforting notion, since pain wasn't an issue—but, of course, oxygen wasn't the real issue, either.

She stared out the window of the Chevy as we drove home through a thunderstorm, the rain beating on the windshield and hood like a million pennies falling from the sky. It was still too quiet. The rain couldn't fall hard enough to block out the shouting of her silence.

"Want to stop for ice cream, topolina?"

"No."

"That's a first."

When we pulled into the driveway, I cut the engine, but we sat trapped by two colliding storms. Everly finally turned to me, and her eyes said it all: this was where fairy tale thoughts about motherhood came to an end.

Her voice was never smaller. "I can't feel him."

"He's fine, Everly Anne."

She pitched an octave. "But I can't feel him."

I went to lean my hand on her stomach, but she knocked it away. "I know you can feel him. I know all of those other moms can feel their babies. You're just watching words come out of my mouth, Callum Andrew, but you're not hearing me." And then she cried tearlessly. "I can't feel my own baby." And then that same fear that once lived inside of food and anxiety sprang back to life as she gasped for air, choked by the agony of what she felt, repeating over and over that she could not feel our son.

"He's right there." I put our hands along the curve of her stomach, following a pattern I knew by heart. "Head. Back. Butt. Legs. Feet. All right there. He's perfectly fine. He's perfectly there."

It did very little to ease her torment. I was being technical and I knew it, but I couldn't formulate a magical way for her to feel him. It was out of my hands.

"How will I bathe him?" she cried. "How will I heat his bottles and feed him without burning him? I won't even know if the bottle is hot!"

"Same as you bathe yourself. Same as you feed yourself. You've been doing fine, topolina."

"What if something happens to me while you're at the hospital working and he's in the house all alone, crying for thirty hours straight, hungry and sitting in his own mess?"

I unbuckled my seatbelt and then hers. "Come to me."

She gasped for air. "This is so stupid. I can't believe we did this."

"Everly Anne."

She held her head in her hands. "I should have stayed in New York. This was too selfish. Loving you has become too selfish."

I groaned, sitting back in my seat. "I really want to comfort you right now, Everly Anne. I do. But the shit coming out of your mouth is making that virtually impossible."

She looked up and glared at me. "I'm so sorry that me having a nervous breakdown is inconvenient to you, Callum Andrew!"

"You're not having a nervous breakdown." I sighed. "You're having the same damn panic attack all new mothers have. You're no different than any other new mom."

"Choke on those words, Callum. I could not be any more different than other moms! Other moms can feel their babies kicking inside of their stomach." She popped the door handle and stepped into the pouring rain. I chased after her, lifting her unwillingly into my arms as she yelled for me to leave her alone. I brought her in the house and held my hand on the door as she tried to leave.