Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes

by Alexa Martin

  So I did.

  Then, a few days later I woke up—still swollen—with a terrible headache and called them again. “Just hold off,” they said. “You have an appointment next week,” they told me.

  I didn’t hold off. I called Ben and told him what was going on. He knew I was scared I was beginning to show symptoms of preeclampsia and encouraged me to go to the ER. That was all the encouragement I needed. I knew if a doctor looked at me, they’d see what I saw. They’d take me seriously and run tests.

  But that’s not what happened.

  Instead of listening to me, they insisted I call my regular OB and wait for my appointment. The nurses wouldn’t listen to anything I said, they ignored my tears and pleas for help. Instead they rolled their eyes and asked me to calm down; they complained about my tone and accused me of being too aggressive. The doctor was worse. He seemed less interested in helping me and more interested in speaking to me in the most condescending way possible.

  I drove myself home knowing that my baby and I were going to die.

  It wasn’t until Ben came home later that night and found me still crying and still in pain that he rushed me back to the hospital and demanded I be seen. And of course they listened to him. Why didn’t I tell them what was wrong? Why did I have to raise my voice? If only I would’ve been a little less angry, they would’ve been able to help.

  Medical gaslighting.

  I ended up on bed rest until I had an emergency C-section at thirty-five weeks pregnant. And even though she was born early, Adelaide came out screaming and fighting. She didn’t even need to go to the NICU. She was tiny, but she was strong.

  And now, seeing her in the hospital bed, still so tiny and perfect, I’m painfully aware that my fear never went away.

  “I still don’t understand what’s going on.” I’m a broken record, I’ve been repeating myself since I walked into the hospital room and laid eyes on Ben and Adelaide. “She just was going sledding, how did this happen?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am,” the doctor says. “We just know she was rushed in and we were told she had alcohol in her system. Luckily, she reacted well to the glucose IV and we didn’t need to pump her stomach, but it was close.”

  I hear everything he’s saying, but I still can’t comprehend a single word. My eyes keep flicking from the doctor’s kind eyes to Adelaide’s sleeping ones. She was laughing and kissing me a few hours ago. “But . . . how?”

  At that, Ben, who’s been sitting quietly in the corner of the room while his colleagues flutter in and out of the room, snaps.

  “Because you live with fucking Jude!” His voice bounces off the walls. His face is bright red as he closes the space between us. “You let that fucking bitch watch our goddamn kid knowing damn well that she’s a fucking mess! One afternoon with her isn’t no big deal, it’s too fucking much! Wasn’t she just in trouble for getting into a physical altercation like a day ago? And you let her take our daughter out unsupervised? Are you out of your fucking mind!”

  The end of his outburst might be framed as a question, but it most definitely isn’t one.

  “No.” I shake my head back and forth. There’s no way Jude would let this happen. She’s been in a bad space, sure, but she would never do something that could hurt Adelaide. “Jude loves her, she would never put her in danger.”

  “Oh, wake the fuck up, Lauren!” He’s still shouting, and it’s hard for me to recognize the man in front of me. Everything Ben does is measured . . . calculated. I’ve never seen him lose his cool before. Not ever. “Jude is fucking reckless! Everything about that bitch is selfish, and she’s always been like that. Caputo was a fucking idiot for calling your home a sorority house. That made it sound fun. But you’re damn straight I wanted your living with her held against you. I knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.”

  “Ben, you know Adelaide is my entire world. You know I would never do anything if I thought it could harm her in any way. Living with Jude has been good for both of us, I swear.”

  “You swear? You swear it’s been good for both of you?” His voice drops to a whisper, and he inches toward me. “Look at our fucking daughter, Lauren. One fucking day with Jude and look at Junie.”

  My heart catches in my throat as I stare at my baby, IVs in her arm and monitors set up around the bed. My whole life, five feet away from me.

  “If you think I’m not going to call Ethan as soon as I leave this place, you’re fucking whacked. Things might’ve gone in your favor last time, but I’m not going to stop fighting until my daughter is out of that fucking house.” Ben’s phone goes off, but before he answers it, he stares me dead in the eyes and asks, “You understand me?”

  I nod my head once. “Yeah, Ben.”

  He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else as he stalks into the hallway to talk to whoever’s on the other end of the phone.

  “Ms. Turner?” The poor doctor I forgot was in here calls my name. “Your daughter will be all right. As soon as your friend realized something was wrong, she rushed Adelaide here. I don’t know what led to this situation, but I do know that your friend did everything she could to get her here. And I realize it’s scary, seeing her like this, but she’s going to be fine.”

  I close my eyes and let those words sink in.

  Fine. She’s going to be fine.

  I take a deep breath before opening my eyes and responding with the only two words I can manage. “Thank you.”

  “If you need anything or have any questions, just call the nurses and we’ll get you settled.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze before turning on his tennis shoe and leaving me alone with my girl.

  I sit in the chair Ben had pulled up close to her bed, and I don’t know if it’s the relief of knowing she’s going to be okay, being alone with her, or that the shock is wearing off, but as soon as I sit down, it’s like the dam behind my eyes bursts and I start crying uncontrollably. My entire body is trembling so hard that I can’t even hold her little hand. I try to get my phone out to call my mom and dad to fill them in, but when pushing their contact on my screen is too much, I give up.

  I toss my phone back in my purse and try to process how this went from one of my best days to the worst in an instant. But I can’t. It’s all too much.

  And none of it’s good.

  So instead, I just try to forget absolutely everything.

  I don’t know how long my eyes are closed before Jude’s voice startles me back into the present.

  “Lauren? Are you awake?” she whispers.

  I can’t tell if she’s trying to wake me up or hoping that I won’t. But other than the twelve missed calls and three frantic voice mails she left, I haven’t talked to her. When I got to the hospital, I ran straight to Adelaide’s room, and when I got there, it was just Ben. I didn’t know if Jude left or what, and to be honest, I didn’t think about it enough to care. But now that she’s in front of me, I’m so glad.

  I have to get the entire story.

  “Yeah.” I sit up in the chair, rolling my neck twice to try to get rid of the kinks that sleeping sitting upright can give you. “I’m awake.”

  “Oh good.” She’s still whispering. Her steps are timid in a way Jude never is, and I assume I wasn’t the first person to face Ben’s wrath. “How’s Addy doing? I’ve been sitting in the lobby, but it was killing me not knowing what’s going on.”

  “Doctor said she’s going to be fine. He said that you rushing her here so fast is part of the reason why.” I tell her what the doctor told me and watch as her body slumps with relief. “I just don’t understand what happened. I really need you to explain how she ended up here.”

  She doesn’t say anything, she just moves to the other chair in the room and falls into it before standing back up and pacing back and forth in front of it.

  “You know
how much I love Addy, right?” she asks, and my hackles instantly shoot up, but I nod when I realize she’s waiting for me to respond. “Because I do. And you were right about this playgroup being a fun one. We had so much fun. Even Jennifer was in a good mood.”

  If I wasn’t sitting in a hospital room with my daughter, who almost had her stomach pumped because of alcohol poisoning, this might be the most shocking news of the year. But we’re here and I couldn’t care less about Jennifer’s suddenly sunny disposition.

  “But you know I usually hate these things.” Jude powers on and I brace, because I know how this story ends, and now I have a very strong feeling that my best friend is the reason we’re here. “And that’s when I have you to bitch with. Without you there, I just knew I was going to be miserable. So before we left, Addy and I made hot chocolate. She loaded hers with marshmallows and I added some peppermint schnapps to mine.”

  “You did what?” The world tips on its axis and the room spins as my vision fights to right itself.

  She ignores me and keeps talking. “I didn’t even drink it, we were having the best time and I didn’t even need it. But when I went to get lunch, Addy went with Sabrina and Winnie, and when Addy asked for her hot chocolate, Sabrina gave her the wrong thermos.”

  “Oh!” I laugh, but there’s no humor behind the sound. Disgust is the only thing I feel right now. “So this is Sabrina’s fault?”

  “I mean . . . well . . . she didn’t know that—” She trips over her excuses, but I don’t let her finish.

  “Of course she didn’t fucking know! Are you out of your mind?” I try my hardest not to yell. The last thing I want is for Adelaide to wake up to me screaming at Jude. “What kind of person brings spiked hot chocolate to a playgroup?!”

  I want to freaking strangle her. I’m not a violent person. I’ve never even so much as scratched another human. However, right now? Right now it’s taking all the energy I have left to keep myself planted in this vinyl-covered chair.

  If Jude was smart, she’d back down and start pleading for the forgiveness I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to give, but instead, her back straightens and she glares at me. “You know how much I hate going to those things,” she says, like this should mean something. “I was doing you a favor. Bringing a drink to deal with the shit you signed up for isn’t that big of a deal.”

  “You offered to watch her! I would’ve skipped the damn event if I knew you babysitting would lead us to the freaking ER.” I ball my hands into tight fists, and it feels like my nails are about to draw blood from my palms. “And so what? If you didn’t have fun, you were going to drink your hot chocolate and then drive with my daughter in the car?”

  “You’re overreacting.” She rolls her eyes. “There was barely any alcohol in there, I wasn’t going to get drunk.”

  “Overreacting? Look where we are, Jude! If anything, I’m underreacting by not wringing your freaking neck!” I put my fists between my thighs to try to keep them down. “And now Ben is calling his lawyer, who’s probably on the phone right now getting an emergency hearing to gain custody. So on top of the trauma of finding out my daughter was in the emergency room with alcohol poisoning, I have to call my mom and deal with her again.”

  “Oh, get the fuck over it, Lauren,” she says, and I instinctively come out of my chair. “You have to call your mom, who’s going to take care of everything for you . . . again. You’re gonna call your mom, who might be a bitch sometimes because her daughter dropped out of med school for the biggest douche in all of California, but is still always fucking there for you and supporting you? I don’t want to hear about your fucking mom.”

  I’ve heard of people who say they had out-of-body experiences, but I always thought they were crazy. Until right now. Because I don’t feel like I have control of my body or the words that come out of my mouth. It feels like I’m outside of myself, watching a train wreck that can’t possibly be my life.

  “Get the fuck out.” I point to the door, knowing I need more space between us, but my feet don’t get the message. They keep moving toward Jude, who, with a snarl and bitterness etched across her face, looks like a total stranger. “I know we both signed the leasing agreement and I’ll keep paying my portion of the rent, but my stuff will be out by the end of the week.”

  “Fucking wonderful. Can’t fucking wait,” she spits, her words like acid. “I can finally live like a normal human and not deal with your judgmental fucking eyes watching every single thing I do.”

  “Judgmental? I’ve been worried about you for months and you kept ignoring me! Glossing over your freaking problems with alcohol instead of doing something productive. You’re a freaking alcoholic and you can’t even see it!” I admit the truth that I, too, have been ignoring for way too long. “All you do is drink. It’s why your mom won’t talk to you anymore, and it’s why you should be grateful if you never hear from me again after today. Because, I swear to god, Jude, the only reason I’ll ever reach out is because I’m pressing charges.”

  Out of all the horrible, cruel things we said to each other, she doesn’t react until I mention legal action. And for some reason, that incenses me even more. The end of our friendship, the possibility of me losing Adelaide, the danger she could’ve put herself and my daughter in? None of that bothered her. Nothing except something that might make her look bad to the strangers who idolize her online.

  “Yes, Jude, press charges.” I lean into her space, needing her to hear that this is not a threat, but a promise. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think there are any filters to help with child abuse.”

  She doesn’t say a word. Not an apology. Not a smart-ass joke. Nothing.

  Instead she levels me with one more glare before turning and walking out of the hospital room, taking eighteen years of friendship along with her.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  • • •

  Jude

  Fuck Lauren.

  Fuck my mom.

  I drop to the floor, and the glass bottle in my hand hits the carpet just before my ass. “Fucking fuck everyone.”

  It’s only been three days since she cleared all of her shit while I was out with Spencer, but I still can’t get over how much bigger the place looks without all of her crap cluttering it.

  I drain the remaining drops of vodka from the bottle and toss it to the other empty bottles lying in the corner before flopping back onto the beige carpet to watch the ceiling fan as it spins around and around overhead.

  My limbs start to go numb.

  I keep staring at the fan, trying to separate the blades as they blur together until my eyes lose focus and I start to think that maybe finally . . . finally, I might lose consciousness.

  It would be a relief, truly.

  Because when I dream . . . I’m not always so fucking alone.

  THIRTY-SIX

  • • •

  Jude

  Sixty days later . . .

  “Have you decided what you’re going to tell her?” Chloe asks.

  “Yeah.” I nod my head and try to stop my leg from bouncing. “I think so.”

  It’s all I’ve thought about for the last week, since she reached out and asked to talk. At first I thought about not responding, but we need some resolution. And I know for my own well-being, I have to be able to be honest and open. Keeping everything bottled up—no pun intended—led me down a destructive path. If I want to move beyond that, I have to face things even when they’re hard . . . especially when they’re hard.

  “All right, so tell me.” She leans forward in the new mustard-yellow chair she bought while I was off on my bender, ignoring her calls to try to schedule me for appointments.

  “I’m going to tell her that while I’m glad she called, I can’t have her in my life. It’s been proven time and time again that we are toxic together and we’re better off apart.”

  She raises an eyebro
w and I know she’s impressed. Even I’m impressed with myself.

  “That sounds good, but you know people are going to judge you. Say that you’re wrong for just giving up and throwing this relationship in the trash. That you should at least try to fight for it.”

  “They’d be wrong.” I don’t hesitate and I mean every word. “Nobody is entitled to take up space in your life if they aren’t good for you. My mental well-being is more important than society’s expectations. Family, friends, nobody should be allowed in your life if they are toxic.”

  “Wow, Jude.” She looks me straight in the eye and claps her hands. “I’m so proud of you right now. You’ve put in the work and it shows in the way you talk, the way you carry yourself, and most importantly, the way you smile.”

  “Thank you.” I receive her words and let her praise sink in. “I’m proud of myself too.”

  And I am.

  It’s almost unbelievable how far I’ve come since I called Chloe almost two months ago, begging her to see me again.

  I still don’t know what made me call her.

  Maybe it was because I was tired of waking up hungover on the living room floor. Maybe it was because I was getting tired of waking up at all. Maybe it was because I didn’t have another soul I could talk to.

  It was probably all of those things . . . and more.

  But no matter why I did it, it’s the best decision I’ve made in a long, long time.

  Chloe saw me the next day, and the first thing I did was tell her about my falling-out with Lauren. When I mentioned in passing that Lauren called me an alcoholic, she made a face that froze my world. Because even she knew what I didn’t . . . or, more accurately, what I didn’t want to admit. My drinking wasn’t just a fun way to let out stress, it was my crutch. The only way I thought I could deal with all this shit I was going through was to completely numb myself to it. But it really did the opposite. It magnified every problem, highlighted my every weakness, and turned me into a person I didn’t even recognize.