(no subject)
It had hardly been the first foolhardy thing she had done and she doubted it would be the last. But agreeing to look after her own child had looked sensible enough at outset.
Weatherby was a month old now and Elizabeth was no more sure about him now than she had been when he had arrived on a day that Elizabeth has mostly blocked from her mind except to be resolute that she was never doing that again. James could be content with one child which to be fair he showed every sign of being.
He doted on Weatherby who already seemed quite fond of his father. James was constantly holding him or telling him some tale or other either from memory or books that the shelf was quite happy to provide. Although even James was prepared to grudgingly admit that Weatherby couldn't understand yet - the baby did seem to like being talked to and would make small cooing or gurgling noises as he stared at James wide eyes.
Elizabeth supposed it was sweet, she also supposed she should think it was more than sweet. But although she found herself relieved that Weatherby wasn't a difficult fussy baby she couldn't summon much more than that. She was tired all the time and nearly as horrified by the process of recovering from pregnancy as she had been with the reality of it. She resented waking every couple of hours to feed the baby. He had recently started watching her - his green eyes focussing on her entirely and while when the baby stared up at James, James was delighted by the acknowledgement from his son, Elizabeth felt judged for her lack of motherly feeling.
But she had done her best to ignore that feeling. She fed the baby because James couldn't do that and James did everything else. The baby was perfectly adequately cared for. She told herself she would probably care more when he got older and was more interesting but it seemed a long time off. It worried her and she had withdrawn from James caught up in her own worries which had prompted several awkward hesitant conversations where he'd tried to encourage her and he was clearly concerned. This mostly ended in arguments where Elizabeth insisted fiercely that she was fine - then hid from him in the bathroom determined she was not going to cry where he could see it.
It had only gotten worse as he would not leave things be and this morning in a show of bravado that she had regretted ever since she had berated him for thinking her unable to manage. She'd then castigated him for his lack of loyalty to the Dawn Treader who were short of crew and told him to go and report for duty for the Sunday sailing. He'd went, though not without fuss, she thought he seemed encouraged by this claim she could manage.
Elizabeth only wished she could convince herself. After a difficult morning in which she fed Weatheby at any sigh of distress and then had eventually been vomited on by a fussy child she had managed to clean them both up. And had to deal with the other consequences of an overfed child. Then he'd cried for hours and she was sure he never did that for James.
When he finally stopped and she wasn't sure it had been anything she did - more that he'd cried himself out and went to sleep. Elizabeth had felt claustrophobic and desperate to get out. She bundled Weatherby in a light blanket and left their room settling him in small fort of cushions on the couch in the rec room and holding her breath against the hope this wouldn't wake him just yet. Then she selected a book at random from the shelf and tried her best to be interested in it, startling a little at any movement from the baby sure it was the sign of another crying jag.
Weatherby was a month old now and Elizabeth was no more sure about him now than she had been when he had arrived on a day that Elizabeth has mostly blocked from her mind except to be resolute that she was never doing that again. James could be content with one child which to be fair he showed every sign of being.
He doted on Weatherby who already seemed quite fond of his father. James was constantly holding him or telling him some tale or other either from memory or books that the shelf was quite happy to provide. Although even James was prepared to grudgingly admit that Weatherby couldn't understand yet - the baby did seem to like being talked to and would make small cooing or gurgling noises as he stared at James wide eyes.
Elizabeth supposed it was sweet, she also supposed she should think it was more than sweet. But although she found herself relieved that Weatherby wasn't a difficult fussy baby she couldn't summon much more than that. She was tired all the time and nearly as horrified by the process of recovering from pregnancy as she had been with the reality of it. She resented waking every couple of hours to feed the baby. He had recently started watching her - his green eyes focussing on her entirely and while when the baby stared up at James, James was delighted by the acknowledgement from his son, Elizabeth felt judged for her lack of motherly feeling.
But she had done her best to ignore that feeling. She fed the baby because James couldn't do that and James did everything else. The baby was perfectly adequately cared for. She told herself she would probably care more when he got older and was more interesting but it seemed a long time off. It worried her and she had withdrawn from James caught up in her own worries which had prompted several awkward hesitant conversations where he'd tried to encourage her and he was clearly concerned. This mostly ended in arguments where Elizabeth insisted fiercely that she was fine - then hid from him in the bathroom determined she was not going to cry where he could see it.
It had only gotten worse as he would not leave things be and this morning in a show of bravado that she had regretted ever since she had berated him for thinking her unable to manage. She'd then castigated him for his lack of loyalty to the Dawn Treader who were short of crew and told him to go and report for duty for the Sunday sailing. He'd went, though not without fuss, she thought he seemed encouraged by this claim she could manage.
Elizabeth only wished she could convince herself. After a difficult morning in which she fed Weatheby at any sigh of distress and then had eventually been vomited on by a fussy child she had managed to clean them both up. And had to deal with the other consequences of an overfed child. Then he'd cried for hours and she was sure he never did that for James.
When he finally stopped and she wasn't sure it had been anything she did - more that he'd cried himself out and went to sleep. Elizabeth had felt claustrophobic and desperate to get out. She bundled Weatherby in a light blanket and left their room settling him in small fort of cushions on the couch in the rec room and holding her breath against the hope this wouldn't wake him just yet. Then she selected a book at random from the shelf and tried her best to be interested in it, startling a little at any movement from the baby sure it was the sign of another crying jag.