#cw crying

im so sorry

"Baby girl, please! Please stop crying." Kyle whispers in desperation as he rocks her, tears filling his eyes. His phone went off his his shirt pocket, loudly screeching Simon's ring tone to the room. Simon had picked it himself, a rock song from the eighties that Kyle barely remembered the name of.

He immediately goes to shut it off, worried the loud noise would startle his girl into louder cries, when he notices how silent she is. Her eyes were wide and wet as they stared at his phone, hiccuping quietly. He watches in disbelief, the call eventually going to voice-mail and making the room silent.

Within seconds, she starts to fuss again. "No, no, no, no, baby girl, don't cry!" Kyle calls Simon back immediately, getting the name of the song and putting it on the TV. Within a few seconds of it playing, she falls silent again, head leaning onto his shoulder.

She wouldn't stop screaming. You had tried everything you could think, but she wouldn't stop!

"Please, baby, please." Your breath hitches as tears keep streaming down your face. You felt so angry at her, your baby. What kind of mother could hate their baby? Could think about hurting her, or -

The doorbell rings, and another sob wracks your shoulders as you realize that your neighbors were probably coming to complain again. You couldn't do this, swiping at your face to clean up as best as you could before swinging the door open.

"Sir! Lieutenant Riley, what are you doing here?" You manage a shaky smile as you speak over your daughters' wailing.

"Just Simon is fine." He states plainly, gently taking your daughter into his arms. You want to stop him, anxiety swelling stronger than your anger at someone else handling your baby; but then she falls queit. She's still whining and huffing, little feet kicking in the air to show her displeasure, but she wasn't screaming.

"Get inside, love." Simon guides you back into your apartment, eyes surveying the mess that had gathered over the last two weeks.

You start to defend yourself, but he hushes you immediately, not an ounce of judgment in his eyes as he looks at you. "Go shower, get a nap in, and I'll clean up. I can handle some dishes and laundry." You stare at him.

The exhaustion that ached your bones was making you hallucinate. That was the only explanation for one of your superiors being in your filthy kitchen with your baby in his arms.

"Y/N..." Simon softly pats your cheek, getting your attention back to reality. "Shower. Now." He orders softly. "I've got everything handled." Hallucination or not, you believed him, dragging your feet to your bedroom for some fresh clothes.

When you wake up, you feel immediate panic when you realize it's the next morning. You had slept all through the night.

You rush out of bed towards the nursery, running right into Simon with a grunt. "Woah! Settle down, love." Simon grabs your arms to steady you, guiding you to peak in the open nursery door. "I figured I'd just let the two of you sleep."

You immediately relax, left over adrenaline, making your fingers tremble as you turn to Simon with a grateful smile. "Simon th -"

"Don't." He cuts you off firmly. "I'm here to help. I want to be. You don't need to thank me." He assures, hearing your stomach rumble loudly. Simon gives you a pointed look and gently guides you to the living room.

"I'll make you some coffee and start on breakfast." Your stomach flutters with the affection in his voice, smiling at him as he heads to your now clean kitchen. Simon focuses on making you a full breakfast, including anything he could that could help with milk production.

Only the best for his girls.

I want someone to wrap a collar around my neck, strap a muzzle to my face, and let me rut against their boot while they coo at me.

"What a good puppy!"

"Atta boy!"

"Keep going, my sweet boy!"

"Yeah? You close? Good! Keep going and don't stop. I want you crying from overstimulation!"

Then, after I'm totally fucked out, they bring me into their lap and pet me and kiss my tears away and cuddle me.

In the first month or so of my Separation, I was unable to cry. It simply wasn't a part of my operating procedure at the time. All I had within me was channeled into survival.

Every so often, now, I feel tears in my eyes. But they're mostly tears of joy.

I told myself, "Rachel, when you're on the other side of this, then you can cry". But that's not sustainable, either.

Then I remembered something I tell my children when they're struggling—it is absolutely okay to cry.

Emotions are big and complicated things, and too many of us were raised to keep them in, to bury them down, to never let them show.

But processing emotions is a part of the human experience. And sometimes that means a good cry.

I haven't yet had my good cry. But I keep reminding myself that it's okay.

When it comes, I won't try to stop it. I'll let the tears flow. I'll let myself release.

Because when it comes to detangling a marriage and half my life, it's a lot. I mean, holy fuck, I was 18 when we met. I was 19 when we started dating. I was 23 when we wed.

And I was 41 when I said "enough is enough" and reclaimed my identity.

So, it's natural that at some point, I'm going to have a good cry. Not because I'm sad, necessarily, but because the weight is lifting and I'll be able to move on.

I kept thinking it would be when he signs the Separation Agreement, but he's changed his mind on when he'll be making a decision on that—and what the sticking point was to signing—over and over already.

Whenever those tears finally fall... I welcome them.

Yes, I'll end up with a wicked headache because when I cry I sob because I had to hold that shit in so much growing up. But, it's okay to cry.

Remember, that loves. If someone told you it wasn't, unlearn that shit.

Crying is completely natural. It's part of the process. So let the tears fall.