After Gu Yichen was born, Shen Nanxing felt like a machine that was about to break down for a long time.
Dabao had to go to kindergarten, while Xiaobao had to be fed. One cried and refused to go to school, while the other cried and wanted to be held. Mother-in-law was getting old. She said she would help, but after holding the child for a while, she would complain that her back hurt. Gu Cheng'an was getting busier and busier with work, and by the time he came home, it was often already deep into the night.
The whole house was filled with noise.
The children's cries, the sound of the kettle boiling, the washing machine spinning, mother-in-law calling for her, and the notifications sent by the kindergarten teacher on her phone. Shen Nanxing often stood in the middle of the living room, Xiaobao in her arms and Dabao clinging to her legs, her mind completely blank.
Her postpartum recovery the second time was slower than the first. Her back hurt, her wrists hurt, and her sleep was so fragmented that it could hardly be called sleep. Whenever Xiaobao cried at night, she would sit up by reflex, pick him up, feed him, burp him, and change his diaper. Just as she finally put the child down, Dabao would wake from a nightmare, stand at the doorway rubbing his eyes, and call for Mom.
Gu Cheng'an would sometimes wake up too.
In a daze, he would ask, “What’s wrong?”
Shen Nanxing would say, “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep. You still have work tomorrow.”
After hearing this sentence so many times, he eventually truly began sleeping soundly.
By the time her maternity leave was almost over, she had already lost a noticeable amount of weight. Mother-in-law looked at her and said, “You worry too much. All women are like this after giving birth. Once you get through it, it’ll be fine.”
Holding Xiaobao, Shen Nanxing did not have the strength to argue.
After returning to the hospital, she was completely out of sorts. It was not that she made professional mistakes; rather, her body felt as though it were perpetually in debt for sleep. While preparing medication in the treatment room, she would occasionally forget whether she had just locked the cabinet door. While writing records at the nurses' station, the words before her eyes would briefly blur.
During one lunch break, she fell asleep with her head on the desk, still burping a child in her dream. When she woke up, her mask was full of warm, humid breaths, and there were three voice messages from mother-in-law on her phone.
“Yichen has diarrhea today. Come home a little earlier after work.”
“Yiming’s teacher said they need to make a parent-child craft project. Remember to do it tonight.”
“Cheng'an said he has surgery tonight and won’t be coming home for dinner. Make your own arrangements.”
After listening to them, Shen Nanxing sat there without moving for half a minute.
Xiao Zhou came over carrying a cup. Seeing that she looked unwell, she asked worriedly, “Teacher Shen, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Shen Nanxing answered instinctively.
Those two words had become her instinct. No matter how exhausted her body was or how chaotic her mind felt, whenever someone asked, she would always say she was fine first.
When she returned home that evening, she heard Xiaobao crying as soon as she stepped inside. Mother-in-law was carrying the child around the living room, her expression unpleasant. “You finally came back. My back is practically breaking. He only wants you.”
Dabao sat beside the table, with colored paper and scissors spread out in front of him. “Mom, the teacher said it has to be turned in tomorrow.”
The pots in the kitchen had not yet been washed, and no one had hung up the clothes in the washing machine after they finished. Shen Nanxing stopped while changing her shoes at the doorway, suddenly overcome by the urge to turn around and run away.
But Xiaobao cried and reached his arms toward her.
She still walked over and took the child into her arms.
That night, she held Xiaobao while helping Dabao with his craft project. Glue stuck to her fingers, the child’s cries pressed against her ears, and the porridge in the pot nearly boiled over. When Gu Cheng'an returned in the early hours of the morning, the living room light was still on. Shen Nanxing sat on the floor mat, Xiaobao asleep in her arms, with scraps of colored paper scattered beside her.
He froze for a moment. “Why are you still awake?”
Shen Nanxing looked up at him, her eyes filled with red veins.
“I just finished.”
Gu Cheng'an changed his shoes and softened his voice. “You’ve worked hard.”
Looking at him, Shen Nanxing suddenly wanted to ask, “Besides saying that I’ve worked hard, can’t you do anything else?”
But Xiaobao stirred in her arms. She lowered her head and gently patted the child, ultimately saying nothing.
Because she was too tired.
So tired that even arguing felt like a luxury.