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When people talk about the low points of parenting, it’s always centred around the children. You’ll hate when they’re sick, when they have sleep regression, when they hit the terror twos and threes, then the terror teens. You’ll hate the nights they keep you up until all hours of the morning, and the day after when they were grouchy from not sleeping, as if you’d been the one waking them up with screeches and shrieks. No one could’ve prepared JJ for parenting while sick. Even worse, nobody could’ve predicted that Will wouldn’t be there to pick up the slack.
Henry cried in his cot, and she wanted nothing more than to pick him up and kiss those chubby cheeks, but a long list of complications from colds in newborns would interrupt her. She wanted to rock him in the nursery, but she’d sneeze and remember she was no better than a human germ factory now, and one wrong droplet could kill him. She wiped off everything she touched, but what if she missed something? What if her hands were dirty when she wrapped him up in his blanket, and he was breathing in her sickness? She knew some germs were fine, yet her germs were surely more dangerous than what he’d find chewing on the TV remote.
He kept crying out for her, begging to be held and making her throbbing headache even worse. It didn’t matter that she was throwing him everything the parenting books insisted would keep him entertained; he wanted her. If he did manage to cry himself to sleep, one sneeze would jolt him awake, and the crying would continue.
I’ll be fine, Will. It’s only a few days. I’ll pay you back when I go back to work.
Oh, how naive she’d been. She’d call in a bomb threat to his work if it meant she could nap for more than two seconds before she was once again faced with risking her baby’s health for her baby’s needs. The worst part was, she knew if she called Will now, he’d rush home. He’d insist he didn’t care what his boss would do because they’d understand, but his paternity leave was over, and he’d be eating into his holiday hours, not to mention putting a spanner in the works of his career.
JJ felt her head pulse with an immovable headache no amount of rubbing her skin raw would fix. She was living off over-the-counter painkillers because she couldn’t take anything that could cause drowsiness in case something happened to Henry- what would she do if something happened to Henry? She couldn’t drive like this; she could barely function. She could call a taxi, but they wouldn’t have a baby seat, and they built those things like they specifically wanted to fuck over the sleep-deprived parents forced to install it.
As if to add to her misery, as she was just about to drift off, the doorbell rang. Henry, on cue, cried. She was going to kill whoever it was. She was going to wrap her hands around their throat and squeeze until their eyes popped out of their skull and then figure out a way to hide the body. Maybe she’d just prop it up against the door to ward off anyone else trying to interrupt her precious peace.
“Hello JJ, I read that postpartum mothers appreciate friends who visit to help with chores, so I brought food and cleaning supplies,” Spencer greeted. Her lust for murder was quelled for a brief second. A very brief second. “I thought with Will at work, you might appreciate the help, and we haven’t received a case just yet, so I had spare time. Garcia said this was a better idea than gifting books on parenting because it may be taken the wrong way.”
Wait a minute. Spencer was a capable adult. Spencer wasn’t sick. Spencer hadn’t spent the last two days in the same bathrobe, only managing to get a shower in two-minute intervals. Spencer was right here, ready and willing to work. JJ opened her mouth to say something but fell short, kick-starting his backtracking.
“Not that your home is dirty. I’m sure it isn’t- unless it is, in which case that’s normal, given you have a baby taking up a lot of your focus- not to say that you can’t multi-task; you’re more than capable of that. Unless you would rather I not be here at all, which is also normal and justified, given you will want time with your newborn before you return to work, and perhaps you don’t feel sociable, so I could leave the food and then return another time, unless you wouldn’t like any of this. I should’ve called ahead, but I thought you might refuse out of obligation rather than a real dislike for the offer, but now I realise that coming unannounced creates the same issue.”
“Spence,” she began.
“Yes?” he asked through a grimace. Good. It felt nice to be intimidating to someone who could comprehend that she was trying to be a point of authority.
“A heads-up would’ve been nice, but I really, really need some help right now, so just remember for next time.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sick, and I can’t get Henry sick, but everything I have to do comes with the risk of getting him sick. Could you just take over for a few hours so I can at least get a shower and nap?”
“O-oh you want me to, uhm, to look after the baby?”
“Yes. Please. Before I go insane or sneeze out my brain.”
“That’s not-” he was stopped by her glare. “I don’t think the Reid Effect has been applicable in recent years, so it should be fine.”
“I’d appreciate a bit more confidence when I’m leaving you to look after my baby.”
“I can look after Henry,” he stated confidently. At least she knew he was stubborn enough to try his best.
“Better. I’m gonna take a shower. Have fun.”
What a luxury an uninterrupted shower had become. She was shocked to put shampoo in her hair and not have to rush out the second she grabbed the bottle. The steam did wonders for her stuffy nose, working far better than the steam from her fresh coffee that would eventually get forgotten on the counter and only drank once it was stone cold. She could take her time just standing underneath the warm water, feeling the grime of sickness wash off alongside the suds.
A bitter thought of Will being able to enjoy this the entire time he was away struck her, but she pushed it out of her head. He was working away from his baby for the first time; he was probably itching to get back, as love overwhelmed memories of waking up at three in the morning to a gassy, screeching gremlin. Her gassy, screeching gremlin, she mused with a smile.
When she turned the water off, her skin well and truly pruned, she expected to hear wailing, but the apartment was quiet apart from the whirr of a vacuum Spencer had found. She didn’t bother giving him the grand tour of the place since he was smart enough to figure it out, and hearing that he’d found it made her all the more secure in her decision to leave Henry in his hands. She wrapped herself in a towel, dumping the bathrobe she’d lived in into the wash basket, and changed into a new set of pyjamas. It was heavenly to feel clean. She could practically feel the sickness retreating in defeat, but she knew better than to jump the gun now.
She climbed into bed, knowing she’d probably feel better changing the sheets but not being able to bear washing away Will’s scent when he was so far away, and finally let herself get comfortable. She turned on the TV when Spencer knocked on the bedroom door. Dread ran through her as she already imagined him frazzled and overwhelmed with Henry in his arms, insisting she take him back, but when she beckoned him to come in, the only thing occupying his hands was a small tray.
“I made you tea since you didn’t have any decaffeinated coffee, and I assumed you’d want to be able to sleep. I also made toast since I’m unsure if your illness is stomach-related, and it was the safest option,” he explained, then shrank back slightly. “Is this another overstep?”
“You’re lucky I’m taken, or I’d kiss you right now,” she joked. It seemed to offset the tension in his shoulders, and he cautiously entered the room, setting the tray over her lap. “Thanks for this, Spence.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “Do you want me to wake you up at all? Henry’s feedings should be every two to four hours when he's exclusively breastfed, but I’m unsure when his last feed was.”
“Actually, would you mind feeding him? I have some backups in the freezer you can use.” It might be too much. She should be fine by the time he needs to eat, but what if she isn’t? It’d be nice to sleep knowing she could wake up naturally, without a baby being thrust into her arms. “If you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to.”
“Why would that make me uncomfortable?”
“You seemed uncomfortable looking after Henry.”
“I was surprised since I didn’t script for it,” he clarified. “When should I feed him?”
“In two hours. You know how to sterilise everything, right?”
“I’m familiar. I read five parenting books since I’m his godfather and I wanted to be prepared for the duties it may come with,” he answered. Of course he’d prepped for this. “If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise, you should sleep. Sleep deprivation is common in parents of newborns.”
“You’re telling me.” He raised an eyebrow but wisely decided not to say something.
“Sleep well, JJ.”
Lights out the moment she finished eating. Hell, she would’ve fallen asleep with a piece of toast in her mouth if the thought of sleeping with a pillow laced with crumbs didn’t sound so awful. She hadn’t slept so hard in months. When she woke up, she felt disoriented and jolted as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She ran a hand through her hair in relief once she got her bearings and glanced over to the clock. Nearly 9 pm! She slept for eight hours straight? No interruptions?
For a moment, she forgot Spencer had come over, and her thoughts were immediately swamped with accusations of being a bad mother, how her poor baby must’ve been starved the entire day, and that she should turn herself in now for child neglect. Thankfully, she remembered right as she jumped out of bed and rushed to the nursery to see him standing there, gently bobbing back and forth with Henry in his arms.
He looked so…careful. His posture was picture-perfect, and he held Henry almost exactly like the nurses had shown her; the only difference was how he gently rubbed his pointer finger over Henry’s chubby cheek as though he were a delicate artefact. His phone sat on the dresser playing white noise, and she kicked herself for not thinking of that to settle Henry faster.
“Well, look at you. You’re a natural,” JJ whispered, leaning on the doorway. He turned around with a small smile. “I think the Reid Effect is well and truly retired.”
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Much.” She watched him for a moment. “You ever think about kids?”
“In general or having them?”
“Having them.”
“I’ve thought about it, yes.”
“A mini you would be adorable,” she cooed. Little glasses with big brown eyes. A little suit to boot. She could imagine the lighthearted complaining from the mother about carrying the baby for so long, only for it to come out a spitting image of him.
“Oh, sorry, I should’ve been clearer. I’ve thought about them, as in I will not have them. Ever.”
“Why not?” she asked before she thought about it for more than a second. He shrugged off the question all the same. “How’s he been?”
“Normal, I think. I don’t have much experience, so I’m judging against what I’ve read,” he replied. “He struggled to settle in his cot, so I rocked him to sleep instead. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, Spence. You did a good job.”
“I’ve only looked after him for eight hours and thirty-seven minutes.” It’s a pat on the back she greatly appreciated. She moved further into the room, and all the suffering she’d gone through was stripped away the moment she saw Henry. Spencer could probably explain why, but she didn’t want to know the biological reasons. She liked to believe this was just the magic of a mother and her baby. “I didn’t manage to clean as much as I’d like to.”
“Welcome to my life,” she laughed. “You know, if you ever change your mind, I think you’d be a good dad. Hey, you can always adopt.”
“It’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” he mumbled. “Though, I suppose if you think I’d make a good dad, then I can be a good godfather?”
“Oh, definitely. You’ve already got him a full ride into any college he wants. With Garcia’s shopping addiction, I’m gonna have a hard time making sure he’s not spoiled rotten.”
“Create all the happiness you are able to create; remove all the misery you are able to remove. Every day will allow you, --will invite you to add something to the pleasure of others, --or to diminish something of their pains.” She sent him a glance. “Jeremy Bentham. His severed, preserved head is on display at University College London.”
“Please don’t talk about severed heads around my baby.”
“Noted.”