My obstetrician had recommended rest and limited disruption. I also wanted time to figure out feeding, sleeping, crying, diapers, and all the other parts of motherhood nobody completely understands until there is suddenly a tiny person depending on them.
“I’m not keeping anyone away forever,” I told Nancy. “I just want two weeks.”
She became quiet.
That worried me more than arguing would have.
Nancy’s silence rarely meant she had accepted my decision.
Usually it meant she had decided not to discuss what she planned to do instead.
Still, the first evening home with Clara was almost exactly what I had hoped for.
She slept in the bassinet beside my bed.
I ate soup on the living-room floor and laughed at myself when I realized the only piece of furniture in the room was a floor lamp.
I was sore, exhausted, emotional, and probably functioning on less sleep than I ever had in my life.
But I was happy.
Then, at 9:15, my phone rang.
Nancy.
I answered quietly so I wouldn’t wake Clara.
“How is my baby?” she asked.
“She’s good.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am tired.”
“That’s exactly what I told Gil.”
Something in her tone made me straighten.
“What did you tell Gil?”
“That you can’t handle this alone.”
“I’m handling it.”
“Jocelyn, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I gave birth eight days ago. I’m allowed to still be figuring things out.”
“Well, you won’t have to do it alone anymore. I talked to Gil. We’re coming tomorrow. I already called Krista.”
I stared at the wall.
Gil was my mother’s husband.
Krista was my older sister. She and her husband, Pete, had three children, seven, five, and three.
Pete had lost his warehouse logistics job four months earlier. Their rent in Arvada was expensive, and I knew money was tight.
Before Nancy explained another word, I understood.
My house had become her solution to everyone’s problems.
“Nancy,” I said slowly, “I didn’t invite anyone.”
“You don’t have to invite your mother.”
“Yes, I do.”
She ignored that.
“We’ll take the back bedroom. Krista and Pete can use the other room off the hallway. Their kids can sleep in the nursery with Clara.”
For a second, I honestly thought I had misunderstood her.
“The nursery is Clara’s room.”
“They’re children, Jocelyn. They’ll manage.”
“Three children and a newborn in one room?”
“It’s temporary.”
“How temporary?”
“As long as necessary.”
I stood up.
The house was so quiet that I could hear the refrigerator running in the kitchen.
“Nancy, stop.”
She kept talking.
She said Krista needed help. Pete needed time to find another job. Gil could take care of small repairs around the house. She could cook, clean, and help with Clara.
Then she told me she wasn’t interested in following “a bunch of rules” about feeding schedules, noise, or who could hold the baby.
I pressed my fingers to my forehead.
“I specifically asked everyone not to visit for two weeks.”
“That was before reality set in.”
“Reality has set in. I still want two weeks.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“That doesn’t mean I want seven people moving into my house.”
“Six.”
“With Clara, seven.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I do.”
That irritated her.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“No. You’re telling me what’s happening in my home.”
“Because somebody has to be practical.”