Baby on Board (Single Wide Female & Family #2)

by Lillianna Blake

  I recoiled at the thought of anyone else taking care of Abby, but continued to listen as the women in the group discussed Sandy’s problem. I noticed that none of them told her to spend more time with the baby or listen to her husband’s point of view. They all supported her desire to return to work and reminded her that she had the right to do just that. It was powerful to see so many supportive women in one place.

  “You know, just because stay-at-home moms want to be at home with the kids, that doesn’t mean it’s easy.” Another woman shook her head. “It’s endless—twenty-four hours with no other adults to talk to—and eventually it wears you out.”

  “Honestly, I’m worn out by nine in the morning. Between the nursing, my clingy toddler, and my husband grabbing whatever he can get his hands on, I wish I could just lock myself in my room and be alone.” Rita sighed.

  “I know exactly what you’re saying.” June threw her hands up in the air. “It’s like my body no longer belongs to me. On demand, I have to bare boob, offer up my lap for cuddle time, or strip down for a quickie. When do I get to turn on the closed sign?”

  “Don’t you think you’re able to just say no?” I divided my gaze between the women. “My husband would never insist on having sex if I didn’t want to.”

  “Not all husbands are alike. Some are more subtle about it. Mine will start lamenting about how long it’s been and how we’re losing our intimacy—about how it’s so important to our marriage. I know, I know, it all sounds reasonable, but he’s not the one that’s bone-tired and worn out. That’s me.”

  “Exactly!” Sandy stood up from her chair. “This is what I’m talking about. The expectations when you become a mother go through the roof. It’s not just that your body isn’t yours anymore, it’s that your emotions aren’t either. You can’t lose your temper because that’s not good for the kids. You can’t break down and cry because that’s not good for the kids. And you can’t shut down your emotions or you’re emotionally unavailable to your spouse. How the heck are we supposed to survive then?”

  “I don’t know.” I stared down at my hands.

  Chapter 14

  I was a little overwhelmed with all that the women had to say. Although I couldn’t identify with everything that they’d mentioned, I did recall Max insisting it was time for a date night, without even asking me if I was ready for one or if I wanted one. Sure, I could have told him no, but the pressure was there. He didn’t mean any harm—of that I was certain—but as a wife, I was expected to fulfill that role. Even if Max would be fine with my declining, I would feel as if I’d disappointed him or that I wasn’t being there for him the way he needed me to be.

  “I’ll tell you how.” June smiled. “We remember that we are whole autonomous beings that are not dependent on our mates or our children for validation. We are not one person trying to fill several roles, but just one person. We can’t be great moms, or wives, or employees, until we’re first great women. We need to be able to be open with each other and with those we love, about how we’re really feeling. I find that women have a hard time admitting when the pressure is getting to them. They’re often too ashamed to admit it.”

  “That’s because we’re constantly flooded with images of perfect moms. It’s everywhere—magazines, commercials, posters on the walls,” another woman chimed in.

  “What about the real shaming that happens?” Rita crossed her arms. “Every time I go anywhere with my kids I expect to end up all over the Internet because one is crying, or the other one talks back, or a few run off in different directions. If a child goes missing, it’s the mom’s fault. If a child is too sheltered, it’s the mom’s fault. If you spank your child, you’re a horrible person. If you don’t spank your child, you’re ruining them for life. I mean really, what can I do that’s right? What can I do that isn’t going to get me ripped apart?”

  “The thing is, you just have to ignore all that.” June shook her head. “When I got to my second child, I stopped caring what other people thought. I didn’t worry about matching socks, or perfect ponytails, or even peanut-butter-free faces. There’s no point and there’s no time, and if we expect perfection from ourselves, then our kids are feeling that pressure to be perfect too. And instead of getting to be kids they are becoming extensions of ourselves.”

  “But wait, if I take Abby out in a stained onesie, it will look like I don’t care.” I shook my head. “I can’t just completely ignore what people will think.”

  “Oh, yes, you can.” Constance laughed. “One time I took my kids out in perfect clothing, from head-to-toe. They looked like they could have been models in a magazine. A friend of mine snapped a picture of all of us. When I saw it, I was shocked. There my kids were, looking awesome, and I was in a stained t-shirt and sweatpants. All of my time had been going into making sure that my children looked great, and I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. That didn’t make me a good mother. It taught my children something. It taught them that how they looked mattered more to me than how I looked. That doesn’t seem too bad until you think about the implications of that. It tells them that they have to present a perfect image. I don’t, but they do. Somehow they must be better than me.”

  “I never thought about it that way.” I frowned. “There’s so much to think about.”

  Rita put her hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “No, sweetie, that’s the point. We can’t fall into that trap. If we think about everything, we won’t retain our sanity, our own individuality, or our right to exist as a whole human being. There is no way to be the perfect parent, there is no way to be the perfect wife and there is no way to be the perfect woman. When we try to do that, every ounce of our energy gets drained.”

  “But what if I mess up? What if I ruin my daughter? What if my marriage fails? What if my career fails?” I asked.

  “That’s your mistake.” June snapped her fingers. “Thinking that you have control of everything. You’re not God, are you?”

  “Well, no, but I mean, all of these things are my responsibility.”

  “Are they? Do you think you will be the only influence in your daughter’s life? Do you think that your husband doesn’t share the responsibility of maintaining your marriage? Don’t you think that some of your success in your career depends on chance? Or can you truly force everything to be exactly as you want it?”

  “Maybe…”

  “She must not have toddlers yet.” June laughed. “Just wait, you’ll discover that you have zero control over your life when that precious little baby of yours starts to walk.”

  “And bite.”

  “And pee in random places.”

  “And throw things at your head.”

  “And break your nose in three places.

  “What?” My eyes widened. “Three places?”

  “Mm-hm. Toddlers have hard heads and they know how to fling them. Never leave your nose unguarded.”

  “Okay.” I shook my head. “I came to this meeting hoping to find myself again, but now I think I’m just terrified—and a little depressed—and I’m not sure if I made the right decision by having a child at all.”

  “That’s okay.” June smiled. “Most mothers will never admit it, but they’ve all had those doubts and feelings.”

  “Or maybe it’s because all of you are too blinded by your bitterness to recognize what a blessing you have! You get to be mothers. Not every woman does. So it’s hard sometimes—that doesn’t mean that it’s as horrible as you describe.” I felt my voice growing stronger with every word.

  “Excuse me?” Sandy crossed her arms.

  “Now wait a minute, Sandy. This group is meant to be a safe place where we can express our feelings. Samantha is being honest about how she feels right now and that’s okay.”

  “She’ll learn,” someone piped up in the group.

  “No! No, I won’t.” I stood up from my chair and looked around at them. “I love my child. I love my husband. Maybe there are rough times now and then, but I w
ould never talk that way or feel that way about my family.”

  “When you do, come back.” June patted my shoulder, then pointed to the door.

  I stared at her for a minute. Should I insist that I would never come back? Should I suggest that they all rethink their attitudes about marriage and parenting?

  Instead of either, I turned and walked out of the room.

  It wasn’t the right place for me. I didn’t want to invalidate their feelings, but I didn’t agree with them.

  I could be a great mother and a great wife and not lose myself—if I just tried harder.

  Chapter 15

  When I returned to the house, I found Max asleep on the sofa with Abby on his chest. I bit into my bottom lip and tried not to think about the chance that Abby could have fallen off him while he slept.

  Instead, I scooped her up.

  The moment I touched her, Max woke up.

  “Hey.” He smiled at me. “Did you have a nice time?”

  “Nice isn’t exactly the word I would use.” I kissed the top of Abby’s head as she snuggled against me. “I’ve never seen a group of women complain so much.”

  “Complain about what?” He sat up and patted the couch beside him. “Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t know—marriage, motherhood, just being a woman.” I shrugged. “It made me really uncomfortable.”

  “Why do you think that is? Were they just bashing men, that kind of thing?” He scrunched up his nose.

  “Not exactly. It was more like they’d all given up.” I gazed down at our daughter in my arms. “I don’t ever want to give up.”

  “You never would.” He kissed my cheek. “Listen, tomorrow we have a meeting with Jessica to go over some of the press releases for the new book.”

  I sighed, not at all sure that I was ready for a meeting with my publicist. “What new book? I’m barely to the middle.”

  “She’s still expecting we’ll publish by the end of the year, and she wants to get some of the details ironed out.”

  “I don’t know, Max, what about Abby?”

  “I can take care of her or we can all go together.”

  “Bring her to the meeting?”

  “Why not? It’s your book and you’re publishing it. Jessica works for you.”

  “I know, but that might be rude, don’t you think?”

  “Well, we’ll figure it out by tomorrow. Why don’t you nurse Abby and see if she’ll go back to sleep? I’d love to get some time with you.”

  “Okay. I was going to check on the blog, and there’s a new movie I want to check out.”

  “A movie?” He laughed. “We need to make the most of our baby-free time. I was thinking about that new position we’d talked about.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of tired tonight.”

  “Alright.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll just go to bed then.”

  “Why? I thought you wanted time together? We can watch the movie.”

  “No, I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

  “So, you didn’t want time together. You want sex.” I settled Abby in to nurse and studied him as I did. “No sex, no time together?”

  “I didn’t say that, Sammy. It’s just I’m tired too. I’d rather sleep than watch a movie. I’d rather have sex than sleep. See what I mean?”

  “I see that you seem to think that sex equals time together.”

  “Doesn’t it?” He furrowed a brow. “I mean, we’re both there, we’re both enjoying it.”

  “Sure we are, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing I want to do with you. I think you’d enjoy this movie and I’d love to have someone to snuggle with while I watch it.”

  “Alright, fine, I’ll watch the movie with you.” He yawned.

  I was a little dazed by his reaction. Was this what the women at the meeting were talking about? Max wanted me to be his wife, while I wanted some time to just be me? Sure, I enjoyed any intimacy with Max, but to me it was more than just the act of sex. It was time spent holding hands, talking, and just being close to each other.

  “No, it’s fine. You seem tired. Just go ahead to bed. We have that meeting in the morning.”

  “Great.” He kissed me, then leaned down and kissed Abby’s forehead.

  As he disappeared into the bedroom an uneasy sensation filled my stomach. I was sure I was only concerned because I’d just been surrounded by women who’d seemed so unhappy.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, my alarm went off early. I needed time to nurse Abby, get ready for the meeting, and make sure that I didn’t forget anything.

  But I woke up with a deep ache in my chest. It wasn’t unusual to have that ache if Abby hadn’t nursed as much as usual during the night, but this was different. It hurt more than I ever remembered. When I looked at my breasts they were swollen and my nipples were huge.

  “Oh, no. What the heck?” I groaned as my shirt grazed back down over my nipples.

  Since Abby was still asleep, I ducked into the shower. I hoped that maybe the warm water would help ease the pain. The moment the water hit my breasts, though, I screamed.

  Then Max was awake and so was Abby. Max rushed into the bathroom so quickly that he tripped over the nightgown I’d left crumpled on the floor. He caught himself on the sink and gazed at me through the shower door.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong.” I wiped at my eyes as tears flowed. “It hurts so much.”

  Max reached out to touch my breast and I smacked his hand away.

  “Ouch!” He drew his hand back with wide eyes.

  It was the first time I’d ever struck him with any force. It was the first time I’d ever struck him at all, other than just being playful.

  “Oh, Max, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, but please don’t touch them.”

  “Sammy, what is going on?”

  I climbed out of the shower as he went to retrieve Abby from her crib.

  Her screams were not helping my anxiety. Not only did my breasts feel like they were on fire, but the guilt I felt for hitting Max was making me dizzy, and knowing that there was only so much time before we had to make the meeting was already making me feel overwhelmed.

  Max rushed back in with Abby, who still fussed in his arms. “Maybe you just need to nurse.”

  I looked at my precious daughter, who I adored more than life itself, and for the first time ever, I wished she belonged to someone else. It was a horrible thought that I immediately regretted, but the thought of her hungry mouth on my sore breasts made me want to run far and fast.

  “Max, I don’t think I can. It hurts so much.”

  “She has to eat, Sammy.”

  “There’s some milk stored in the freezer from my pumping. Maybe we can try her on a bottle this morning.”

  “We’ve tried that before. She doesn’t take it.”

  “You’re right.” I closed my eyes as more tears flowed. “Okay, I’ll try.” I took Abby from his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  As I sat down on the bed she hungrily nuzzled and tugged at my breasts. I cried out from the pain of it, but she didn’t seem to notice. As I looked down at her, she transformed from my perfect little baby into a ruthless vampire that wanted to suck the sanity from me.

  I cried out again when she latched on and for several minutes as she nursed. Then, amazingly, the pain—at least in that breast—eased.

  With great hesitation, I switched her to the other breast and endured another five minutes of pain.

  Max sat down on the bed beside me and rubbed my back. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

  “I’m sorry I hit you. I’m so sorry, Max.”

  “Sammy, don’t stress. It’s not like you hurt me, I promise. I didn’t realize how much pain you were in. Maybe we should head to the doctor or even the emergency room.”

  “No, it must be clogged ducts. A heating pad or some warm towels should help
a lot, I think.”

  “But we have the meeting.”

  “Oh, right.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “How am I ever going to do this, Max?”

  “Do what?”

  “Handle being a mom and a writer.”

  “Sammy, you’ll be fine. You’re not going to nurse forever.”

  “No, but there will always be something, won’t there? It just happens that way. Things will always come up.”

  “I’m here to help you.”

  “You can’t go to the meeting for me, and you can’t take the pain away from my breasts. That’s something I have to deal with. Now I have to decide if I can sit through the meeting, or if I need to cancel it last-minute, which could put my career in jeopardy. I can’t even imagine how other women go to work every day and deal with all this. I’m very lucky to have the flexibility I do, but it’s still hard.”

  “I know.” He rested his hand on my knee. “But we’re in this together. No, I won’t be able to fix everything. But I can stay home with Abby so you can just focus on the meeting. Or I can bring Abby with me and keep her outside while you’re in the meeting. Or I can call and cancel the meeting for you.”

  “No, I need to go.” I took a deep breath. “Yes, maybe we should all go together so that if Abby gets too fussy, I won’t be too far.”

  “I’ll get her dressed. Why don’t you put the heating pad on for a little while? I can find you something to wear.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Max.” I kissed his cheek and frowned. “I’m really sorry, you know.”

  “Sammy, it’s not like you smacked me in the face or something. Just relax.”

  “But you would never hit me.”

  “And I would never have breasts full of lava either.”