On A Run

by Livingston, Kimberly

  As the anniversary of the Southern California Authors’ Convention came closer, Hannah became obsessed with cleaning the cabin, as well as baby proofing everything, though she knew she wouldn’t need to do this step until months later. Sleeping became more difficult, so she often was up in the night writing. And each week she seemed to grow bigger.

  The Sunday before Labor Day, Hannah and Sheila were having tea at the cabin. Hannah gently rubbed the tight skin of her impossibly stretched stomach, leaning back in the chair to try to relieve some of the tension that she felt in her back.

  “I would be okay to have this baby any day” she said to Sheila.

  “You and every other pregnant woman in their eighth month.” Sheila laughed. “I was begging my doctor to go ahead and let Ben come early. Sorry, you’re going to have to wait the whole time, like most of us.”

  Yet, for all of Hannah’s discomfort, preparations, and words, she wasn’t sure she was ready for this baby to come. After spending so much time around Ben and seeing how much a baby actually needed, thinking about raising the baby on her own seemed less and less a good idea, despite Sheila’s assurance that she wouldn’t be totally alone.

  “Oh, you think that you won’t be calling me every day, but you will be,” Sheila said, bending over to adjust Ben’s toy over his car seat. “You’ll be calling me to tell me the first time she spits up, or calling crying when she tells you “no” the first time. You’ll call because you’ll want to know if her bathwater is too hot. Then when she is older you’ll be worried about her going out on her first date.”

  “She is never going to go on a date!” Hannah said emphatically.

  “Yes she is! I need a date that I can trust for my Ben’s senior prom. They’ll be best of friends and then they’ll get married someday…” Sheila stopped, watching Hannah glance down at her hands. She thought she would try one more time. “Call him, Hannah. He might be excited about it. It isn’t too late.”

  “I am sure he would be excited, but I don’t know if I can be with him and take care of a baby.”

  “So you do it together, like most people do.”

  Hannah’s eyes darted toward the door. What she wouldn’t give to run outside, up into the mountains she so loved. Sheila had made her promise not to walk anywhere but in town now, which, of course, she wouldn’t do. When Hannah protested, Sheila wisely pointed out that if Hannah was out on the trails, she might get too far away to safely make it home when the time came. Ironically, Hannah, an agoraphobic, felt trapped in her own home, a place that had been her haven for so long.

  “Well, just think about it.” Sheila left it. She had known Hannah long enough to know what she could and couldn’t push her on. “So, are you ready for the big city life?” Hannah had agreed to stay at Sheila and Steve’s in the city for the last few weeks before the due date. They would go to the baby prep classes at the hospital together and Sheila would be Hannah’s support for when the baby was born.

  Hannah looked around the cabin that used to be her parents. It was all ready for the baby’s arrival, even if she wasn’t. She picked up her bag and stood up. “I guess so.”

  Madison Elizabeth Glen was born at 12:09 a.m. on September 25th, one week before her due date, but almost exactly 9 months after the time she was conceived. She burst into the world after an incredibly short labor, gave out one ferocious cry of protest, and then immediately quieted and seemingly began to contemplate her new life.

  Hannah sat under the dimmed lights in her hospital bed holding her tiny daughter, who had been cleaned and bundled and laid in her mother’s arms. Sheila and Steve had visited for a while, and then left to give mother and daughter time to bond together. For the fourth time Hannah unwrapped the baby to count the same ten miniscule fingers and toes she had looked at on the ultrasound picture so often over the past months, and then wrapped her back up again, fearful she would get cold. Hannah inspected every part of the precious package over and over, awed by the perfectness of this being. But she had difficulty every time she looked at the infant’s head. The baby was born with a shock of black hair, olive skin, and almond eyes. She looked exactly like Daniel. Tears threatened to blur Hannah’s vision as she held the bundle firmly, being sure not to have any chance of dropping her. Hannah unwrapped her infant’s hand one more time and held it gently in her own. “Madison Elizabeth Glen,” Hannah murmured, as if proclaiming the baby’s name solidified that it was hers. Hannah tapped the tiny hand to her baby’s chest. “I am Madison Elizabeth Glen,” Hannah said. “MEG,” she whispered into the baby’s downy fuzz on top of her head. “My little Meg.” The nickname stuck.

  The day Hannah and her baby were released from the hospital, Steve drove them home. Sheila tried to convince them to stay with Steve and her at their condo in Denver, but Hannah wanted to be home again. It had been too long. Ben had come down with a fever so she used this as an excuse to not stay.

  Steve drove and Hannah sat in the back next to Meg, who was secured in her car seat. When they got to Breckenridge, Steve carried Hannah’s suitcase inside while she carried her precious bundle. After he brought in the car seat and the myriad of other “baby essentials” that Sheila had bestowed on Hannah for the past month, he paused at the door.

  “Would you like me to stay for a while?” Steve looked uncomfortable asking. He knew that Hannah craved her solitude, but Sheila insisted that he offer.

  “No, but thank you Steve, for everything. You have done so much for me already. We will be fine.”

  After Steve left, Hannah brought Meg into her bedroom and laid her in the middle of the bed. Hannah kicked off her shoes and lay down next to her baby, already asleep. Hannah gently picked up Meg’s tiny hand and felt the complete softness of it. “I am Madison….,” Hannah whispered, kissed the baby’s forehead, and promptly fell asleep next to her.

  To describe Madison as precocious would be like calling the ocean wet. While true, it was not nearly apt enough of a term to sum up all that the child encompassed. She was active as an infant, meeting developmental milestones well ahead of schedule. Madison investigated everything placed in front of her, generally by putting them into her mouth, though, to the thrill of her mother, also holding them up to her face as if looking intently at them. She activated every toy within reach of her hands or feet. Once Madison was old enough to roll over, Hannah began constructing soft barriers on the floor because Madison became a rolling explorer, traveling distances that Hannah didn’t think possible.

  Hannah worked well in between playing with her infant; often typing with one hand while tickling Madison’s belly and listening to the laugh of her growing baby girl. Hannah was content with her writing, finding creativity flowing through her again, her newest novel taking on a depth that perhaps her last had missed.

  As Madison grew older, her hair changed from the blue black that had covered her head at birth, to a dark auburn shade more like her mother’s. Meg’s first word was not a word at all, but a sentence. She babbled consistently throughout the first year, but while a baby’s first words are often “mama” or “baba”, Madison’s first intelligible utterance was “I am Madison” .Hannah nearly dropped the cup of coffee she was drinking when she heard her say it. She thought she must have imagined it. It was the game she had continued to play with Meg since her first day on this earth, taking her tiny hands and tapping them to her tiny chest and chanting “I am Madison.” But Hannah never expected to hear the words come out of the adorable pink mouth that laughed every time she played the game. Hannah climbed down from her chair and sat in front of her little daughter, taking Madison’s hands in her own and tapping them to her little chest. “I am Madison,” Hannah chanted.

  “I am Madison!” Meg returned and then busted into an uproarious belly laugh that was contagious to her mother.

  She didn’t stop there, and by the age of fourteen months had a verbal repertoire that amazed her Auntie Sheila and Uncle Steve to no end.

  “Ben is already two and he is barely p
utting two words phrases together!” Sheila complained one day while they were visiting in Hannah’s kitchen, putting the final touches on the Thanksgiving dinner.

  Last year Hannah had gone to their condo in Denver, where they had eaten a catered meal. But Hannah wanted Madison to have an old fashioned holiday, though she would probably eat only the mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. Hannah looked around at her intimate family setting and was happy. Madison was a delight that never ended and a constant source of joy for Hannah.

  When Madison turned two, she became interested in crayons and pencils and everything make believe. Hannah and she spent most of their time together in the cabin, though they had spent many days in the spring and summer months exploring the woods in the mountains. Hannah had a backpack that carried Madison while she was a baby, but the little bundle of energy quickly tired of being above the ground, preferring instead to be on her own two feet as soon as she could, so that she could investigate every bit of the landscape. Often their outings would take them no further than one hundred yards from their back door. Running was a thing of the past for Hannah, but she didn’t mind. The calmness that that activity had brought her was replaced with spending hours building tiny homes for the insects that Madison found and cared for.

  Back at home, Madison would draw picture after picture of what she had discovered that day, describing in detail what she had drawn. Her imagination grew immeasurably, and by the time she was nearly three, she began to make up stories about characters she imagined in the woods. The insect houses became gnome homes, and their adventures took them further from the door of the cabin. After so long close to home, it made Hannah nervous to go too far away from it with Madison.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hannah decided they had to go to the grocery store. She was out of diapers and the delivery service couldn’t come until the next afternoon. There were certain things Hannah could live without, but a package of diapers was not one of them. The possibility of potty training Madison in the next couple of hours didn’t seem likely, especially given that Meg refused to go anywhere near the “potty machine.” Madison had been early in development in all areas except this one, and it was one that she refused to budge on. Hannah had tried everything. She tried bribes, she tried enticements, she even once thought about punishing Meg for not trying to use the toilet, though luckily she had called Sheila first to get her opinion. Sheila had convinced Hannah that Meg would potty train when she was ready, and not to worry about it. Still, relying on diapers was getting old.

  Hannah packed Madison into her car seat and headed for town, nervously looking in her rear view at her child. Meg was happily singing a song she had just made up about the sights she saw out the window. Once at the store, Hannah had to drive around the small parking lot twice before she could find a parking spot. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday, and she supposed people had just gotten off work and were stopping by the store on their way home. Her timing couldn’t have been worse. Hannah was about to give up and go home, wondering if perhaps the gas station had diapers. There weren’t any other options in this tiny tourist town. Dejectedly, she pulled into a space and turned off the ignition.

  Hannah unbuckled Meg from her car seat and held her hand tightly as they walked toward the store. Once inside, Madison refused to ride in the cart Hannah got, instead walking next to the basket. This slowed their business down significantly, to the delight of the child and the pain of her mother. Madison felt the need to stop and investigate everything she could at her eye level, asking questions about the different packages, pointing out the ones she recognized. If Hannah had had her way, she would have gone directly to the baby aisle, grabbed the diapers, gone through the self-checkout, and been on her way home as quickly as she could. With Madison in charge, she would be lucky to get out before the store closed.

  Finally with diaper package in one hand and Madison’s hand tightly held in the other (Hannah had ditched the cart after it was apparent that Meg wasn’t going to ride in it.) they headed toward the self-check.

  “We need milk mommy,” Madison reminded her.

  They did too. Hannah didn’t want to detour long enough to find it, but it would save her the horror of another trip if Meg decided that all she would eat was cereal and milk, a trick she did on occasion. So back toward the dairy aisle they went, slowly. Hannah looked down three aisles before she found one that wasn’t so impacted with people. Then, after this detour, Meg slowed unbelievably even more when they got to the dairy section, commenting on all the different colors of “joegurts” she passed. As they finally neared where the milks were, they had to wait as a woman in an electric wheelchair struggled to reach a carton on a shelf just out of her reach. The woman was very old, it seemed, though it was hard to tell. Her round body was humped over and gnarled, but her legs were spindly thin and hung down below the brown skirt she was wearing.

  “May I help you?” Hannah quickly pulled down the carton that the old woman was reaching for, worrying that the woman would topple out of her chair onto the floor.

  “Why thank you!” the old woman croaked, winking at Madison, who smiled back without fear, checking out the woman with open fascination. “That is very kind of you.”

  “It’s is no problem.” Hannah was polite, but nervous. It was ridiculous, of course; this woman was about as intimidating as any of the tiny creatures she and Meg observed while they explored the outdoors. But the woman was a stranger, and, like all strangers, she caused discomfort in Hannah. Hannah placed the milk into the woman’s basket, and then turned to get her own gallon. Before Madison could begin the barrage of questions that Hannah knew she was conjuring up in her mind, Hannah scooped her up and headed for the checkout stand.

  That night, Madison didn’t want cereal and milk for dinner. She didn’t want anything. At first Hannah thought Meg was being stubborn, wanting dessert without dinner first, but after a while Hannah tried this as a bribe and it didn’t work.

  “Don’t you want a popsicle?” she tempted Madison with her favorite treat, thinking she could use it as leverage.

  “No, Meg’s not hungry,” Madison replied, calling herself by name. It was a trick she did only when feeling particularly small.

  “What’s wrong sweetie? You could have some cereal.” Hannah had never known Madison to turn this offer down. The kid had an appetite to match her energy level.

  “Tummy hurts!” was all Madison could manage before bursting into tears.

  Hannah reached down to pick her daughter up and realized that Meg was hot with a fever. She took Meg into her bedroom and laid her on her bed, surrounding Madison with all her favorite toys before leaving her to get the thermometer and a glass of water. Madison wanted nothing to do with either of them.

  “Honey, I just need to take your temperature to see if you are ok….”

  “Tummy hurts!” Madison insisted, too late for Hannah to realize that she meant it. Madison’s face turned a strange mint green color, and then she lost what little she had still in her stomach from earlier in the day onto her butterfly comforter. This made her cry all the harder.

  “Oh sweetie, mommy is so sorry!” Hannah grabbed a towel out of the hamper and wrapped Madison into it and carried her to the bathroom. She gently cleaned her up and put her into clean pajamas while sneakily taking her temperature under her armpit. It read 101, which Hannah was fairly certain was too high, though already the color was returning to Madison’s face. She took the cleaned little bundle to her own room and put her in the middle of her queen size bed and then grabbed the phone from its cradle and dialed the medical center. It rang many times before a young female voice answered.

  “Breckenridge Medical Center after-hours answering service,” the voice announced, not sounding too enthusiastic.

  “Hello, yes, I need to speak to a doctor, please. It is about my three year old daughter.”

  “There aren’t doctors at this service; however, we have answers to most common questions.”

 
This didn’t sound reassuring. Hannah pictured a pierced lipped teenager on the other end of the phone watching sitcoms in the background.

  “Please, isn’t there a…. medical professional I can speak with? My daughter just threw up and has a fever of 101…”

  “You can bring her in to the ER if you feel it is life threatening.”

  “Isn’t there anyone who could come up here to check on her?” Hannah had no idea if it was life threatening. Madison was lying quietly, with a calmer look on her face. Hannah touched her forehead and it felt cooler already. The idea of going to the ER made Hannah’s stomach twist even tighter. She had gone out once today already and it had given her such bad stomach spasms that she couldn’t imagine she could stand any more.

  “We don’t make house calls ma’am.” What was the worst was the voice on the other end sounded apathetic at best. “If her fever is only 101 she will be fine, just keep her cool with wet washcloths. If her temperature goes over 103, then bring her to the ER.”

  Hannah waited to hear if the girl would hang up the phone. She didn’t, but Hannah could tell the voice was waiting for Hannah to.

  “Ok, thank you.” Hannah hung up “For nothing.”

  “Mommy….”

  Hannah’s attention was immediately present with her little one. “I’m here baby. The nurse says you will be fine. But I am going to stay right here.”

  “Tell me one of your stories.” the little voice said.

  “I don’t write children’s stories sweetie. I just write big people stories. How about I read the ‘Wild Things’ book?” It was one of Madison’s favorites.

  “I want you to tell me one of your stories!” Madison insisted.

  Hannah wracked her brain to think if any of her plots would be appropriate to tell to Madison.

  “Tell me about the toad lady,” Madison added.

  Hannah was confused until she realized that Meg was talking about the lady in the grocery store. Desperate to make her little girl feel better and to take away her pain, Hannah quickly began to put together a story for her.