Saturday, April 12, 2008


It seems like yesterday I was a complete basket case, sitting on the floor in my living room, tears of frustration and uncertainty streaming down my face.

I was hungry. I had been cooped up in the house since the baby was born and there was nothing left in the kitchen to eat, unless you counted baby formula, and I didn't. If I wanted something to eat, I had to go get it and if I left, I had to take my baby with me.

I reminded myself I was a grown woman, a mother, perfectly capable of putting her baby in the car and going through a drive-thru for some food. I told myself that. But I still wasn't capable of doing it.

Every time I pulled up to the microphone, before the speaker came on, the baby would start screaming. I moved the car to a parking space and checked on things in the back seat. The baby was quiet, his diaper slightly soiled. I amazed myself at being able to swiftly change him in the back seat of the car and headed back to the drive-thru. The instant I came to a stop before the speaker, he began to scream again. I left and decided to drive for a bit.

I was stopped by a train on the way out, but all was quiet in the backseat. I stopped at the next drive-thru speaker, and again, before the speaker even came on, there were shrill baby screams coming from the backseat of my car. I moved the car into a parking space and checked on things. The baby was quiet, his diaper clean. "Aw c'mon, give me a break and just let me order my food, please," I begged the tiny creature.

I couldn't tell you how many different places I tried. I couldn't go inside to get something to eat because I couldn't carry the baby that far. My stomach was cinched in knots anyway. Every time I lifted anything, my panties flooded with blood.

I finally gave up. Then, just yesterday it seems, there I was, sitting in the middle of the floor in a drafty old trailer, crying. The baby slept quietly in his crib as I cried and bled and begged God to tell me how in the hell I was going to take care of a baby when I wasn't even capable of feeding myself. "But I'm not ready for all this!!"

It seems like yesterday, but it couldn't have been yesterday. I distinctly remember yesterday.

My son, who will be 12 in a couple of months came into my office yesterday and plopped himself into my arm chair, announcing, "Well it's happening."

"What's happening?"

The beginning of the end? The second coming? An earthquake, an alien invasion? What?

"I'm starting to get man-hair."

Oh shit.

I'm not sure I'm ready for this.

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