by Cat Mann
****
We stared up at a massive wall shelved with an enormous selection of baby bottles. Max’s tired feet had given up on him three stores prior and he was hitching a ride on my hip.
“How do I know which kind of bottle to get? There are just so many!”
“Have you given any thought to how you're going to feed the baby?”
“What do you mean?” Her face pinched.
“Are you going to breastfeed or use a bottle, do you just want to use baby formula…”
“Errrr…”
“I kind of thought you would breastfeed. I would like you to, but only if you are comfortable with it. Breastfeeding is a good way to bond. I know that puts a lot of the work on to you, but I can still help. I'll still get up with you in the night.”
“Ok, yeah, I want to.”
“Good. Do you know how long you plan to breastfeed? A couple of weeks or months, a year?”
“I don’t know! For as long as I can…I guess.”
“When will you go back to work for House to Home?”
“I wasn’t really planning on taking an extended leave. I’ll just work from home most days. With the fundraiser out of the way, I won’t need to be in the office as much as I have been.”
“The doctor won't want you to go back to work for six to eight weeks, Ava – depending on the delivery. And if I have any say in the matter, and I think I should have some say, I don’t want you returning to work for at least eight weeks. I was hoping you would take a year off of work. My father will understand and it’s not like you really take pay. Don’t you still cut your paycheck back to the fund?”
“Yeah…but I don’t want to take that much time off work, Ari. I really enjoy what I do. Are you taking a year off work?”
“Pfft. No.”
Her brow rose and her lip curled. I had somehow insulted her. Accidently implying that my job was more important than hers.
“Eight weeks it is. You’ll need a pump then. And you’ll eventually need to switch to bottles, so you should find a bottle with the same kind of nipples as yours.”
I picked a box of bottles that came highly recommended from a pediatric group and then grabbed a pack of nipples and tossed them in the cart. “Those are probably the most similar to your own.”
“How do you know?”
“I have spent a lot of time with them, that’s how.” I winked.
Ava blushed so hard, I could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. “Ava! It’s just your body, everyone has nipples. No need to get embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed!” She hissed.
“Yes you are!”
She turned a shade darker and then walked away towards the wall of diapers.
Catching up, I grabbed a jumbo pack of newborn diapers and shoved the box below the cart.
We piled in tiny nail clippers, baby wipes and a booger sucker, a breast pump, a baby bath and a monitor. Ava and I deliberated on a baby swing for twenty minutes until Max whined and begged to move along to the next item on the list. We tested strollers, car seats and high chairs and I could tell that Ava was overwhelmed.
“We already have a crib, why do we need a bassinet, too?”
“The baby will sleep in our room for a while. It'll just easier for you that way, since you'll be feeding in the middle of the night. With your nightmares, I just can't see you sleeping with the baby in our own bed. It’ll be too dangerous, you toss around so hard. A bassinet will have to be the way to go.”
“Right. God, I'm nervous.” She chewed her lip.
“Don’t be. You're a great mom, Ava. Isn’t she, Max?”
“Yesss!” he cheered and Ava beamed at him.
“It's different this time. We have to start from scratch with this one. I don’t know what to do – this is new territory.”
Max had arrived potty trained and eating table food, walking and somewhat talking on his own. A baby was a whole new set of rules.
“You aren’t alone. You have me. We're going to learn together.”
“K.” Her head bobbed.
“And my mom is right next door.”
“Yep...Aggie. I’m gonna need her.”
“Speaking of…”
“What?”
“Have you thought about the delivery room?”
“What about the delivery room?” Her brow pulled up in a question.
“I am going to be in there with you when the baby is born, but have you thought about anyone else. My mom asked me if she could be there, too, and I didn’t know what to tell her…”
“No. And I don’t mean that in a mean way. But that day belongs to us, Ari. The birth of our baby is a most special day...and those first moments? I want to share them with just you. That moment in time, we are going to remember it forever, it will be our best memory together.”
“You’re right.” I grabbed a pack of white onesies and tossed them in the pile and headed towards the register, feeling a little more prepared for a new addition to the family than I had in the morning.
With my SUV completely loaded down, I pulled into the garage and popped the rear hatch to start unloading a whole carful of baby must haves. All three of us were in fun and carefree moods. Ava and Max had plans to raid the freezer for ice cream as soon as they got inside. The heaviness from the past week was beginning to ebb away. I could breathe again.
Ava helped Max from his seat, unlocked the door and followed after him through the doorway. I was right behind her with my hands loaded down with bags.
“What on Earth is that noise?” I called ahead of them. The hallway echoed moans that were similar to Ava’s birthing video. Animalistic howls of pain.
The small, crying moans sounded off like an alarm and my mind raced as I tried to place the noises. Howls, too, as if a dying animal were trapped and hanging on to its last breath.
“Did you let the cat in the house?” Ava asked me.
“No. I locked the door. Remember?” A small row of goosebumps dotted down my spine as the noise grew louder and more panicked.
Ava reached the end of the hall and she screamed. Her hand flew over Max’s eyes shielding him from whatever she had seen.
“Oh, no!” She cried. “Ari! The cat!” Her fingers trembled over Max’s face and her own.
“What?” I pushed ahead of them both, the bags dropped from my arms and I stared with an open mouth at a blood-soaked floor. “Ava, get in the car now! Lock the doors, call the police.”
She grabbed Max and ran.
I scrambled for a towel in the laundry room and carefully eased Fluff, covered in his own blood, into my arms. His tail and one of his ears had been completely severed, the blood around his face made it too difficult to see if he still an eye. Our kitchen knife was tossed on the bloody ground. A furry, bleeding black cat tail lay beside it. Written in our cat’s blood, on our kitchen floor was 0804. Our alarm code.
The cat howled in pain. Still alive but just barely. With him in my arms, I made it back to the car and sped of out the driveway to the animal hospital. Ava was frantic on the phone, shouting our address and begging for someone to come quick. Max cried a loud billowy scream. His tiny kitten had been cruelly attacked in the most perverse and malicious way. Blood was everywhere and Max had seen it all.
“Mama…,” he whimpered.
Ava turned around to face him just in time for Max to puke.