Jim answered the door, rumpled and weary.  He wore a thin, worn T-shirt and sweatpants splotched with faded stains.  His eyes were bloodshot, lids puffy and red from hours of rubbing.  Two days’ worth of stubble darkened his face.  Clare had never seen her son-in-law look this disheveled … and she’d seen him with the flu – twice.

As Jim led her into the living room, he said, “Thanks for coming on such short notice.  I know I said we needed a few days before anyone came to visit but –” he shook his head, eyes full of regret “But I never thought …”  He halted in his tracks, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Everything I do or say sets her off.  The house has been full of crying pretty much all day.”

He took a breath, nodded, began to recite the words he’d rehearsed since making the phone call.  “I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome.  I just wanted us to have a few days to get to know one another.”  His formal tone melted into raw emotion.  “It was a stupid idea.  I really screwed this up.  I’m so sorry.”

Clare turned to her son-in-law.  “Jim, sit down.  You are too damn tall to do this standing up.”  She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and drew him into a tight hug.  “It’ll be ok.”  She held him until his shoulders began to relax under her touch.

“Listen.”  She cocked her head toward the room.  “It’s all quiet on the western front for now, kiddo.  Lay down for a few minutes.  You’re exhausted.”

“But – ”

“No buts.  I think we’ve established which of us knows what the hell she’s talking about.”  Clare leaned down and kissed Jim softly on the cheek.  “Sleep, honey.  You look atrocious.  I’ve got it covered.”

She waved a finger to silence him.  “Really.”

“Ok.  Thank you.”

As Jim unwound his long frame on the sofa, Clare silently mounted the stairs.  The door to their room was ajar but no light peeked from its edges.  Clare quietly rapped on the door.

“Go away.”

“No way.  I just drove three hours to see you.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby, it’s me.  Can I come in?”

She heard a choked sob and maybe a small yes.

“Pam?”

Clare’s eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the open doorway.  Pam sat in the middle of the bed, propped against a wedge of pillows, wads of tissues strewn about the covers.  Clare motioned toward the space beside Pam.  “May I?”

Pam nodded without meeting her mother’s eye.  Clare sat down and took Pam’s hand between her own.  For a long while, neither woman spoke.  Then, in a soft voice, Pam declared, “This was a really bad idea.  I should never have let him talk me into this.”  There hadn’t been much persuasion involved, Clare was sure, but she didn’t contradict her daughter.

“Mom, I never even babysat for God’s sake!  How am I supposed to do this?  I have no idea what I’m doing … and he’s so good at it.  I don’t do anything right!  I can’t even nurse her right.  It hurts like hell, mom.  I’m so sore, I dread it when she needs to get fed.”

Pam stared silently into the darkness before continuing.  “She cries every time I hold her.  She hates me.  Kids never like me.  Why did I think this would be different?”

In the milky shadows, Clare could barely see the tears plummeting from Pam’s cheeks.  She squeezed Pam’s hand, waiting for her to finish.

“And he’s so fucking good at it, you know?  He takes her from me and she settles right down.  And taking care of her is all he really focuses on.  He just keeps looking at her and saying She’s perfect.  She’s just perfect.”

Pam drew a deep, shuddery breath.  “I look at them and I think he was mine first.  I had him all to myself and now I have to share him with you – forever.  What is wrong with me, mom?  What kind of person thinks that about her three day old daughter?  I’m a terrible mother.  I never should’ve done this.”

Clare drew her daughter to her and held her closely, waiting until Pam’s sobs subsided.  “Hey, remember the story about Josh’s first night at home?  No?

“Well, he woke up at two a.m. and I sat with him for three hours.  He wailed the whole time.  He wouldn’t nurse, wouldn’t burp, hardly seemed to take a breath.  I finally tossed him into his crib and woke your grandmother – she’d come to help for the first week.  I nudged her shoulder and announced I want to drop this baby on his head.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“No.  Absolutely not kidding.  And I meant it.  Grandma didn’t say a word – just picked him up and rocked him.  I swore it was the same thing I did but that baby was asleep in two minutes.

“Pam, you’re stressed and exhausted.  Rachel will love you and you’ll be a fine mother.  She’ll never remember these first days of adjustment and, eventually, you’ll laugh about them.  It’ll be ok.  I’m here now.  You’ll take care of Rachel and I’ll take care of you.  In a few days, you’ll have the hang of it.  I promise.”

“But – ”

“No buts.  I think we’ve established which of us knows what she’s talking about.”  Clare leaned down and kissed Pam softly on the cheek.  “Sleep, honey.  You look atrocious.  I’ve got it covered.”