Chapter 34 Building Us
777 Words
The first few weeks after the call with Ethan were both surreal and grounding.
Though he couldn’t be there in person, he found ways to be present.
Video calls became their lifeline.
Every morning, Lily would set up her phone on the counter, Emma bundled carefully in her arms. The soft sunlight filtered through the window, and the house smelled faintly of coffee and baby lotion.
Ethan’s face would appear on the screen, tired but eager, dark hair mussed, eyes wide as he adjusted the camera to focus on Emma.
“Good morning, beautiful girl,” he’d whisper, voice shaky. “Did you sleep okay?”
Emma often squirmed or yawned in response, and Lily would laugh quietly, brushing strands of hair from her face.
“She did,” Lily said softly. “She slept a little. We both did… sort of.”
Ethan nodded, watching her with intense focus. “I wish I could be there to help.”
“You are helping,” Lily said. “Every time you talk to her, every time you guide me, every time you remind me I’m not alone.”
They started building routines together, even across the distance.
Every morning, he guided her through Emma’s feedings over video call. He’d watch closely as Lily held the baby, gently correcting her grip when needed, offering encouragement.
“You’re doing great,” he’d say, smiling despite the distance. “Remember to keep her upright a little more during burping.”
At first, Lily felt self-conscious. She was exhausted, hair tangled, cheeks flushed with sleeplessness. But slowly, she realized she didn’t need to be perfect. She just needed to be willing to learn.
“Okay,” she said one afternoon, swaying gently with Emma in her arms. “One more try. You ready?”
Ethan leaned closer to the screen, voice soft. “I’m ready. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”
Emma cooed.
Lily laughed quietly, exhaustion and relief mixing in her chest. “See? She likes your encouragement.”
Over time, the calls became more than instruction.
They were moments of connection.
Ethan would read bedtime stories, his voice shaky the first few times, but gradually gaining confidence. Lily would watch him mimic the rhythm of the words, making faces at Emma, and feel a swell of love that she hadn’t anticipated.
Sometimes, Lily would tell Ethan about her own struggles — the quiet tears she cried when Emma finally napped, the overwhelming panic she felt when she imagined doing everything alone.
“I’m scared,” she admitted once. “What if I mess up?”
“You won’t,” he whispered. “But even if you do, we’ll figure it out together. I’m here. We’re here.”
The words anchored her.
They also reminded her that love was active, not just a feeling. It required attention, presence, and effort. And even when miles separated them, they were making it work.
They celebrated small victories.
Emma took her first full bottle without fuss.
Emma slept through the night for the first time.
Emma rolled over for the first time — her tiny arm flailing — and Lily and Ethan cheered in unison through the screen, laughter spilling into the quiet house.
“I saw that!” Ethan shouted, voice trembling. “She did it! You did it!”
“No,” Lily corrected softly, smiling through tears. “We did it. Together.”
Even simple routines — feeding, diaper changes, rocking Emma to sleep — became rituals of intimacy, bridging the gap between their worlds.
Sometimes, when the house was silent and Emma slept, Lily would hold the phone beside her chest and listen to Ethan’s voice whispering goodnight.
And though he wasn’t there physically, she felt him with them.
She realized that connection didn’t always need presence.
It needed effort.
Love.
Attention.
Time.
And slowly, piece by piece, they were building a life together — one day, one call, one tiny coo at a time.
The distance didn’t feel like a punishment anymore.
It felt like a bridge.
And for the first time in months, Lily felt something steadier than fear.
She felt hope.
She pressed a soft kiss to Emma’s forehead, whispering, “We’re okay. We’ve got this. Together.”
And somewhere across the world, Ethan did the same.
Holding his own phone against his chest, he whispered softly into the quiet, “We’ve got this. Together.”
Even miles apart, their family was growing.
Even miles apart, they were learning what it meant to be a team.
And even miles apart, they were proving to themselves that love — real love — could endure anything.
- Writer
