Orla and granda

Mallory

Orla had been home for three days now.

The house was quiet, except for Orla's soft, frustrated whimpers as she squirmed against me.

I shifted her gently, trying not to let my own frustration bubble over. We'd been at this for nearly half an hour—trying, failing, adjusting again. She'd latch for a second, then let go, then cry. I was exhausted, my whole body aching, and the sting of feeling like I couldn't even feed my own baby was starting to sink its teeth in.

"M'alright, baby girl," I whispered, brushing her downy hair. "We're okay. We're gonna figure this out."

But I didn't sound convincing. Not even to myself.

There was a soft knock on the door, and then Mam stepped in, carrying a warm cup of tea in that way only Irish mammies can—like it could fix anything.

"You need a hand, love?" she asked gently, setting the mug on the bedside table and sitting beside me on the edge of the bed.

I hesitated, blinking back sudden tears. "I don't know what I'm doing, Mam. She won't latch properly, and I'm so sore and tired and—"

Mam wrapped her arm around my shoulders, careful not to jostle Orla. "You're doing just fine, Mallory. Feeding can be hard in the beginning. Nobody tells you that bit. Everyone just talks about how 'natural' it is, but it's work. For you and her."

"She just gets upset, so do I," I murmured, looking down at Orla, who was nuzzling her tiny face into my chest like she wanted to try again.

Mam leaned in, her voice soft. "Here, try this. Hold her more across, like that—yeah, just tuck her in close to you. Let her find it herself."

I adjusted, following her instructions, and almost instantly, Orla latched. Properly this time. The pain was still there, but less sharp. More bearable.

"There she is," Mam whispered, brushing Orla's cheek. "She's just learning. You both are."

I let out a shaky breath and nodded, watching my daughter's tiny face relax as she finally started to feed.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For everything."

Mam kissed the top of my head. "You've got this, pet. I'm so proud of you."

I rested back into the pillows, cradling Orla against me, and for the first time since we got home, I didn't feel like I was failing.

I felt like maybe—just maybe—I was figuring it out.

"Kian coming over today, sweetie?" She says, pushing my hair out of my face as I nursed Orla.

I glanced up at Mam, her gentle hands brushing my hair from my face. I nodded, though my voice was a little quieter than usual. "Yeah, he said he'd come by later. He's been busy with work, though."

Mam smiled softly, her eyes warm. "Good. He's been great with you, Mallory. And with Orla. I can see how much he loves you both."

I felt my cheeks flush slightly at her words, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. Kian had been incredible through all of this, always right there when I needed him. I wasn't sure how I would have managed without him.

"He's been amazing," I murmured, looking down at Orla, who was still feeding contentedly. "I don't think I tell him enough how much I appreciate him."

Mam chuckled, her voice teasing. "Well, you know what they say—show, don't just tell."

I shot her a look, my lips tugging into a small grin despite myself. "Mammy, stop."

She winked, her tone softening. "You deserve all the love, Mallory. Both of you. You've got a good thing with him. Just make sure you let him know, too."

I nodded, biting my lip as I glanced at the door. "I will, Mam. I will."

Mam stood up, smoothing out her clothes. "I'll give you two some space. But if you need anything, you just shout, alright?"

"Thanks, Mam."

As she left the room, I looked down at Orla again, my heart swelling with love. I wasn't sure what the future held, but right now, with Kian's love and support, and this little girl in my arms, I felt like we were exactly where we were meant to be.

The sound of the doorbell rang through the house, followed by a soft knock on the door. I carefully stood up, adjusting Orla in my arms as I made my way to answer it.

I opened the door to find Kian standing there, a smile on his face, and beside him, my da, he probably left his keys here. I immediately felt a wave of relief, and a tiny flutter of nerves. I hadn't seen my dad much since the hospital, and though things were getting better, the whole situation still made me uneasy.

"Hey," Kian greeted softly, stepping inside, his eyes immediately finding mine. His smile grew, and he reached out to take Orla from me with practiced hands. "How's my sweet little girl today?" he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held her close.

"She's been good," I replied, feeling the weight of the conversation we'd had just before Kian arrived slowly slip away as I watched him hold her. It was easy to get lost in how natural he looked with Orla, how much love was there in his every movement. "She's been a bit fussy, but I think she's finally settled."

"Let me take her off your hands," my dad's voice cut in, and I turned to find him standing just behind Kian, his hands in his pockets. "You need a break, Mallory. You've been doing all the work."

I smiled at my dad's gesture, grateful for the offer. "Thanks, Dad. I really do need a minute. It's been... a lot."

Kian gave me a reassuring look as he passed Orla over to my dad. "You've been amazing, Mal. Don't forget that."

I nodded, feeling my heart swell at his words. "Thanks, Ki," I whispered back, my voice catching slightly. I didn't say it often, but I was always grateful. "I appreciate you so much."

Dad settled down in the armchair with Orla cradled in his arms, rocking gently. His eyes softened as he looked down at her. "You know, you're already a natural, Mal. It's in your blood. I see so much of you in her."

I blinked, surprised by his unexpected words. "Really?"

He nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. You're doing great. I can see it. And Kian... well, he's a good kid. He'll be a good father."

Kian shifted uncomfortably at the compliment, scratching the back of his head, but his smile didn't fade. "I'll try my best."

I watched the two of them together for a moment, Orla's tiny hands gripping onto my dad's shirt as he murmured to her softly. Everything felt a little more whole in this moment. Like things were falling into place, even if it didn't always feel that way before.

"Thanks, Dad," I said softly, my voice thick with emotion.

"Always, kid," he replied, meeting my eyes. "Always."

And for the first time in a long while, I felt like everything was going to be okay.

Da gently rocked Orla in his arms, his expression softer than I'd ever seen before. He carefully adjusted her tiny body so her head rested against his shoulder, her little hand curling around his finger. She seemed so small in his arms, but he held her as though she was the most precious thing in the world.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the moment. "You're a good one, aren't you?"

Orla made a small noise, her eyes fluttering open briefly before drifting closed again. It made my dad chuckle quietly, his hand gently brushing over her tiny, wispy blonde hair.

"You've got her looking at you already," Kian said with a grin, standing next to me as we both watched Da and Orla. "She's definitely got your charm, Mal."

I smiled softly, feeling a lump form in my throat as I watched dad with Orla. He had always been a bit rough around the edges with me, but seeing him with her, it was like I was seeing a side of him I'd never known existed.

"She's a little bit of both of us, huh?" I whispered, my eyes tracing over dad's face, noticing the way his usual gruffness had softened. There was a tenderness there, something I hadn't expected.

"Definitely," Kian agreed, his hand brushing against mine.

Da looked up at us, meeting my eyes. He was quiet for a long moment, the soft hum of the room filling the space between us.

"Good job, Mal," he said, his voice a little rough. "You're doing good."

It was simple. But those words, coming from him, felt like a weight lifting from my chest. I had always wondered if he would be proud of me, if he would see me as capable—especially after everything. And now, in this moment, he was showing me that he did.

"Thanks, Da," I whispered back, my voice thick with emotion.

He smiled at me, the lines on his face softening, and turned his attention back to Orla, his hand gently rubbing her back.

"Yeah," he said, his tone lighter, "she's gonna be just fine."

And for the first time in ages, I truly believed it. Everything would be okay.