(no subject)
The twins were finally asleep.
It had taken the better part of the day to get them fed, changed--changed again, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day--and by the time he'd sat down with them, in the big rocking chair he'd made for Cecilia, to try to get them to sleep, it was time to feed them again.
At one point they'd been on a schedule. Cecilia was the one who kept up with when and how much they ate and and when they slept and how many wet nappies they'd had; it must have been the nurse in her that was able to manage them so efficiently. Now that she was gone, Robbie could barely manage to keep them fed and changed, and while Cecilia and Robbie working together had been able to get them both to sleep at the same time quite easily, it seemed to Robbie that one or the other of them was always awake no matter what time of the day or night when he was doing it alone. When Heath was hungry, Will wanted nothing but to sleep, and the other way round. As soon as Will was fed and changed, Heath would spit up all over his pyjamas and need a change.
They were only two months old, but it was obvious that they knew their mother was gone. When they woke in the middle of the night (and it was always both of them, at night--one would cry and wake the other) it had always been Cecilia that was able to soothe them best, and to Robbie it seemed hours before they would calm and sleep again.
Robbie could feel his grief at Cecilia's disappearance lingering at his back like a predatory animal waiting to strike, but now that his world had condensed down to two very small boys that were entirely dependent on him for the entirety of their well-being, he had no chance to confront it. His life consisted of making sure the boys were well, and that Sisyphean task was all he could manage.
Now that they were both fed, dry, and sleeping, Robbie felt as if he had come to a sudden and unexpected stop and wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He went outside, leaving the door open so that he could hear if they woke, and sat down in the shade of a tree. Like so many things in Robbie's life, the remodeling of their small house was still unfinished, the building materials that Robbie had unexpectedly received piled under a tarp at the side of the house.
Cecilia had given up smoking when she learned she was pregnant, and Robbie had joined her in solidarity, but now there was nothing more he wanted than a cigarette. He rolled one from the tobacco left from the last that he and Cecilia had shared and leaned back against the tree, scratching at his jaw that hadn't been shaven in the better part of a week.
If the boys would sleep at least until Robbie had finished his cigarette, he might make it through the rest of the day.
It had taken the better part of the day to get them fed, changed--changed again, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day--and by the time he'd sat down with them, in the big rocking chair he'd made for Cecilia, to try to get them to sleep, it was time to feed them again.
At one point they'd been on a schedule. Cecilia was the one who kept up with when and how much they ate and and when they slept and how many wet nappies they'd had; it must have been the nurse in her that was able to manage them so efficiently. Now that she was gone, Robbie could barely manage to keep them fed and changed, and while Cecilia and Robbie working together had been able to get them both to sleep at the same time quite easily, it seemed to Robbie that one or the other of them was always awake no matter what time of the day or night when he was doing it alone. When Heath was hungry, Will wanted nothing but to sleep, and the other way round. As soon as Will was fed and changed, Heath would spit up all over his pyjamas and need a change.
They were only two months old, but it was obvious that they knew their mother was gone. When they woke in the middle of the night (and it was always both of them, at night--one would cry and wake the other) it had always been Cecilia that was able to soothe them best, and to Robbie it seemed hours before they would calm and sleep again.
Robbie could feel his grief at Cecilia's disappearance lingering at his back like a predatory animal waiting to strike, but now that his world had condensed down to two very small boys that were entirely dependent on him for the entirety of their well-being, he had no chance to confront it. His life consisted of making sure the boys were well, and that Sisyphean task was all he could manage.
Now that they were both fed, dry, and sleeping, Robbie felt as if he had come to a sudden and unexpected stop and wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He went outside, leaving the door open so that he could hear if they woke, and sat down in the shade of a tree. Like so many things in Robbie's life, the remodeling of their small house was still unfinished, the building materials that Robbie had unexpectedly received piled under a tarp at the side of the house.
Cecilia had given up smoking when she learned she was pregnant, and Robbie had joined her in solidarity, but now there was nothing more he wanted than a cigarette. He rolled one from the tobacco left from the last that he and Cecilia had shared and leaned back against the tree, scratching at his jaw that hadn't been shaven in the better part of a week.
If the boys would sleep at least until Robbie had finished his cigarette, he might make it through the rest of the day.