A LOVE FORGOTTEN

Chapter 12

Newfound strength

Having a baby at such a critical moment in my life has been a bittersweet experience. There are days when exhaustion threatens to consume me, moments when I wonder if I'll ever truly feel like myself again. Yet, every time I look into Alex's wide, innocent eyes, I find a reprieve—a kind of solace I never imagined. He's my lifeline, my anchor in the storm, and though the weight of responsibility is heavy, the love I feel for him outweighs everything else.

It's been a month already, and today my mom is on her way to see me. The thought fills me with a mix of excitement and nerves. It's been so long since I've seen her—since I moved away from Florida—and I want everything to be perfect for her visit. My sister is picking her up from the airport, and I'm frantically tidying up the house, trying to anticipate every comment my mom might make. She's a bit of a germophobe, and I can almost hear her sharp intake of breath if she spots a speck of dust.

As I fold Alex's tiny onesies, the door swings open unexpectedly. Before I can process what's happening, my mom rushes in, enveloping me in a tight hug. Her familiar scent, a mix of lavender and home, makes my eyes sting with tears. "Oh, Emily," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

She pulls back, her hands lingering on my shoulders, and then turns toward Alex's cot with a reverence that takes my breath away. Gently, she picks up my sleeping son, her movements careful and tender, as though she's cradling the most fragile treasure in the world. Tears spill down her cheeks as she presses a soft kiss to his forehead, murmuring words of love and wonder.

My sister lingers in the doorway, a wistful expression on her face as she watches our mother meet her grandson for the first time. The moment feels sacred, as if time has slowed to hold us in its embrace.

Over the next week, my mom becomes a whirlwind of support and care. She takes over feeding, changing, and soothing Alex with the ease of someone who's done it all before. She cooks hearty meals that fill the house with warmth, tackles the never-ending piles of laundry, and somehow finds time to tidy up in a way that feels effortless.

One evening, after Alex has fallen asleep, the house is quiet except for the soft hum of the baby monitor. My mom and I sit together in the living room, a cup of tea in her hands as she looks at me with a hesitant expression.

"Emily," she begins, her voice cautious, "there's something I need to tell you."

I sit up straighter, my heart quickening. "What is it, Mom?"

She hesitates, her fingers tightening around her mug. "I went to see Ethan's mother."

Her words hit me like a jolt. "You did what?"

"I had to," she says gently. "I needed to know if she'd heard from him, if she knew anything about what's going on. I thought maybe she could help."

I don't know what to say. My emotions are a chaotic tangle of gratitude, anger, and shame. "What happened?" I finally ask.

My mom sighs, her gaze dropping to her tea. "She wasn't just unkind, Emily. She was cruel."

My stomach twists. "Cruel how?"

"She said… she said you're bad luck for her son. That if he'd never insisted on marrying you, none of this would've happened. She blames you for the accident."

Tears sting my eyes as my mom continues, her voice steady but laced with sadness. "She said I should warn you to stay away from him. She said her son's life would have been fine if you hadn't come into it. Her exact words were, 'Take your bad luck and stay far, far away from my son.'"

I press my hands to my mouth, tears spilling over. "She said that?"

"She did," my mom confirms, her voice soft but firm. "But I didn't let her words shake me. I told her that my daughter is strong, capable, and a wonderful person. I told her that you've done nothing but love Ethan with all your heart. But she wouldn't listen."

My heart feels like it's shattering all over again. I feel the weight of her words, the unfairness of her hatred, and the sting of being blamed for something I couldn't control.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I whisper through my tears. "I didn't mean for you to go through that. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

My mom sets her tea down and scoots closer, wrapping her arms around me. "Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for. You've been through so much already. Don't let her bitterness add to your burden."

I nod against her shoulder, the warmth of her embrace grounding me. "Thank you, Mom. For standing up for me. For being here. For everything."

She pulls back, cupping my face in her hands. "You're my daughter, Emily. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

As the days pass, her words echo in my mind, a constant reminder that I'm not alone. Watching her with Alex fills me with a bittersweet longing—a reminder of all the times she cared for me. Yet, it's also a comfort, a quiet reassurance that I have her support.

Through it all, Alex remains my constant. He's a remarkably peaceful baby, content to observe the world with wide, curious eyes. When he sleeps, his face is the picture of serenity, his tiny fists resting near his cheeks. Sometimes, I watch him for hours, marveling at how someone so small could carry such a profound sense of calm.

With my mom here, I feel stronger, more capable. Her love reminds me that I'm not just surviving—I'm thriving.