Free Baby Love Lite by Andrea Smith Page B

back to the mirror and blinked my
eyes several times before I realized that the reflection in the
mirror was me - but I now looked just like my MOTHER!
    Just then I heard the muffled sound of glass
shattering. It had come from down the hallway. It sounded like it
came from Preston’s room. Damn! What had the little shit gotten
into now? I couldn’t recall whether I'd locked the rails up on the
side of her changing table before I'd left her room. I hurried down
the hallway to her room. I gasped as I looked over at her changing
table and saw that it was empty. My gaze lowered to the carpeted
floor beneath the changing table. She'd fallen from the table onto
the floor. She'd broken into hundreds of pieces like a china
doll.
    Trey appeared next to me in the doorway. He
was going to hate me for what I'd done. I turned to him sobbing and
crying. A smile was plastered on his face as if he were a statue
that had no other expression other than the one he currently
wore.
    “ I’m sorry, Trey! I didn’t
mean to leave her on the changing table. Please, please - help me
put her back together again!” I was on my knees, trying to gather
up the broken pieces of Preston. Trey continued to stand there like
a statue not bothering to help me.
    “ Tylar! Tylar! What are you
doing? Stop . . . you need to stop!”
    My eyes looked back up finding him gazing
down at me. We were no longer in Preston’s room. We were on the bed
in our room. His statue-like expression was gone. It had been
replaced by one of fear and confusion. It was familiar to me now as
I came out of my dream-like haze.
    I'd seen that same expression on his face
every night for the past three nights. He reached over and flicked
the switch on the lamp next to the bed. My face was covered with
sweat. My breathing was quick and shallow. I looked up at him not
masking my fear with the unanswered question.
    “ She’s fine. She’s in her
bed right where you tucked her in earlier." His tone was different.
He was exasperated; anyone could see that. For the first time I
noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes. He'd not been
sleeping well, mostly because I'd kept him up intermittently each
night with these horrible nightmares that seemed so
real.
    “ I’m sorry," I said softly.
“It’s just that I had this horrible dream about -”
    “ I know, Tylar,” he snapped
in frustration. “Please spare me the details. It's just another one
of your fucked-up dreams like all of the others.”
    He lowered his head, rubbing his hand over
his forehead and raking it back through his sleep-tousled hair.
Trey’s mom was due in the following morning to stay and help out
with the baby. I knew he'd voiced his concern about me and my
paranoid mental state to her.
    I couldn’t be blamed for what I'd dreamt; I
did think that Trey had had his fill of me not seeing someone about
them. He'd been prodding me to talk to my OB/GYN to see if the
dreams could possibly be attributed to post-partum depression. He
wanted me to get help.
    I couldn’t tell him that this dream was
different than the others. I was sickened by it. This was the first
time I'd dreamt of hurting my baby; this was the first time I'd
ever dreamt that I was my mother.
    “ Trey,” I said softly,
waiting for him to look at me. I felt so damaged.
    He looked over at me, his gorgeous eyes tired
and drawn; he was still rubbing the back of his neck in utter
frustration and helplessness. He cocked an eyebrow waiting for me
to say what I had to say.
    “ I'll get in touch with the
doctor tomorrow, I promise. I'll find out what's going on and if
Dr. Addison feels that it's beyond his expertise, I'll have him
refer me to a psychiatrist. I promise you that. I'm so very sorry
that this has been happening.”
    “ Sweetie,” he replied with a
sigh, drawing me closer to him. “I'm not blaming you for this. I
know that whatever is going on with you isn't your fault. I just
want it gone."
    “ I understand,” I choked
out, tears welling up.