by Zeia Jameson
~~~
“Hey, Mom, we’re here,” I say as I let myself and Livy into Mom’s house.
“Jeremy!” My mom rounds the corner of the foyer. She brings her hands to each side of my face and kisses me on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you, baby boy.” I hug her, “Good to see you too.”
Livy is behind me. I’m trying to play the role of bodyguard the best I can by letting her stay directly behind me. But my role is quickly compromised when mom maneuvers under my left arm and outstretches her arms to Livy.
I need to up my defensive game.
“Livy!!! Sweet girl!” She hugs Livy and Livy hugs back. “Rosalie.”
My mother releases Livy and looks her square in the eyes. She is still for close to a minute. The silence is growing awkward and Livy refuses to lose the stare off. I am behind my mom so I can’t see her face but Livy’s is becoming worrisome. Finally, without breaking eye contact, Livy crinkles her eyebrows. “Rosalie?”
Mom puts a hand up to her mouth and I move around so I can see her face.
There are tears in her eyes, on the brink of spilling over.
“Mom?” I place a hand on her shoulder which seems to break her out of her odd reverie. She reaches out to hug Livy again and whispers loudly into Livy’s ear, “You’re pregnant.”
Livy puts her hands on my mom’s shoulder and breaks the hug to produce space between the two of them, “What?”
Mom looks at me and then back at Livy. “You are pregnant, right?”
Livy looks utterly confused and she glances my way questioningly. I raise my brow and shake my head. I’m just as confused.
“It’s all over your face, Livy. You are glowing! My god, you are pregnant!”
Livy nods slightly. “Well shit, Rosalie, we can’t get anything past you, can we? We were going to tell you all after dinner.”
Mom hugs Livy again. “Oh my god! Livy, Livy, Livy!!!” And then my mom begins to cry. Happy tears, I can tell, but crying nonetheless. She finally pulls back and kisses Livy on the cheek and then uses both hands to wipe her eyes. She turns to me and bear hugs me. She extends her arm and brings Livy into our hug. “You guys. I am so excited for you. And proud of you. It’s going to be amazing. Congratulations, baby boy and sweet girl! I am so happy!”
“Thank you, Mom,” I say as the same time Livy says, “Thank you, Rosalie.”
Mom releases us from her embrace and tidies her hair. “I promise not to say a word. I didn’t mean to ruin your moment.”
“It’s ok, Rosalie. No harm done.” Livy smiles warmly at my mother. I love that they get along so well.
“I made pork roast and sweet potatoes, Livy, is that ok?”
Livy nods and smiles, “Sounds perfect.”
My mom makes some sort of happy, high pitched noise, “Mmm, mmm, mmm!” and pinches Livy’s smiling cheeks before spinning on her heels and floating to the kitchen.
~~~
“Dinner was delicious, Mom. Thank you,” I say.
“It really was,” Livy concurs.
We are gathered around the table with Mom, Jenna, Maggie, their husbands and Jenna’s children.
I look over to Livy who is sitting beside me. I take her hand under the table and arch my eyebrows to say “You ready?”. She gives me a slight nod and smile.
I turn my head toward the rest of the group who are engulfed in heavy conversation. Even my mom. She hasn’t even let off any hint to anyone else that she knows our secret.
I clear my throat. “Hey, guys.” Everyone turns their attention to me and I get a small case of nervousness. “So, Livy and I were wondering what everyone was doing this summer. Say, July? Because we’ve got this thing we’d like you all to come to.” I’m trying really hard to pass this off as casual conversation to assist with the surprise. However if anyone could see my heart racing or the sweat beading down the back of my neck, I’d be caught.
“Oh, what is it Jeremy? A vacation?” Jenna says.
“Not quite. More exciting than that.”
Dramatic pause.
“Well.” I look at Livy and can’t contain my smile. She smiles back.
“Livy’s on this weight program where she’s intending to gain about, mmm, thirty pounds. And in the summer, she’s going to lose a good portion of it all in one day. And we want you to all be there!”
Crickets.
I figured I’d be lost on the guys but I thought the women would at least understand the clues.
No one says a word and I can tell my mother is about to explode and let the cat out of the bag.
“We’re pregnant!” Livy says before my mom seizes the opportunity.
Suddenly, the room erupts with noise and Livy and I are instantaneously engulfed in hugging arms from every direction. I manage to peer over to Livy to make sure she is ok. There is no nervousness or anxiety in her facial expressions. Her smile is genuine and receptive to every congratulatory hug she gets. She looks over at me and I wink at her. She winks right back.
***
25
Livy
Four hours into labor
We are having a girl. We are going to name her Amelia Grace.
Now, if she’d just get here already. I’m two weeks late as it is. I went into labor at 2:30 this morning. Not that I was sleeping or anything. I don’t think I’ve slept in a month.
“Get all the sleep you can, while you can.”
Every woman I’ve been in the vicinity of has told me this magnificent little tidbit of advice. Even a lady at the super market said it to me.
A random woman passing onto me her motherly advice.
But it’s really hard to sleep when you have a kid in your womb stretching her legs into your ribs and spine.
I’m over it.
So over it.
This child needs. To. Be. Born. Now.
“Oh my God!” I scream as I squeeze Jeremy’s hand through another contraction. Once it subsides, I turn to the nurse who is reviewing the monitor. “Could I please have some drugs now? It’s been a really tough morning.”
She reaches over to check all the gadgets that are attached to me. “They’ve been ordered, sweetie. Just waiting on the doctor to get here. It shouldn’t be too long now.”
But before the anesthesiologist could come with the drugs, Amelia decided to make her debut. My delivery doctor said it was uncanny the rate things progressed so swiftly. But before we knew it, I was dilated, effaced and all those other odd birthing terms that I still don’t quite understand. After four hours of uneventful labor and thirty minutes of pushing, Amelia Grace was born.
Without drugs.
To say the least, it was quite painful. By the time I gave my final push, I’m certain I would have been capable of murder if it would have guaranteed me freedom from the pain.
However, the second I heard Amelia cry, before I could even see her tiny little face, I fell in love with her.
For months, I had doubted how I was going to have a bond with a child. I worried how I was going to keep another human being alive. Jeremy reassured me every step of the way but I still had hesitations. I had to feed her and keep her clean. I had to clothe her and keep her warm. This baby was going to be completely helpless and I was going to be responsible for her 24/7. I had no clue how I was going to be able to be a mother. No freaking clue.
But the moment I heard her cry, all of my trepidation subsided. Her tiny wail clenched my heart and all I wanted to do was hold her and make her feel safe.
“She’s beautiful. So perfect,” Jeremy said, leaning over her while the nurses cleaned and weighed her. I looked at Jeremy and he returned my gaze.
He was crying.
And then I was crying.
He immediately walked over to me and kissed me, tears rolling down both of our faces.
“Thank you. Thank you. You are so amazing. Thank you,” he says before kissing me again.
“Here she is,” the nurse said. Jeremy moved aside and the nurse placed Amelia into my arms. She
was snugly swaddled and her head was covered with a pink, cotton cap. Her face was rosy.
“Hi, Amelia.”
She opened her eyes ever so slightly and I got a glimpse of her crystal blues.
Just like her daddy.
My heart melted.
I had a daughter.
I was a mother.
I had never felt any better feeling in the world.
***
26
Jeremy
Everything was set to bring Amelia home. She was late, so I had the nursery set up, and rearranged a few times, before Livy went into labor. We had swings and bouncy seats and tiny bathtubs. We had breast pumps and bottle sterilizers and high chairs. Car seats and strollers. Diapers, wipes and butt cream. Never in my life could I have imagined how much stuff one little six pound baby needed.
I stayed home with Livy for two weeks after Amelia was born. Amelia cried nonstop for three days after we brought her home. It was exhausting. But we formed a routine and Amelia adjusted well.
Livy adjusted well too. Because of everything Livy worried about before Amelia was born, I thought motherhood would be harder on her. Not that it hasn’t been hard, but she’s taking it all in stride. Not once has she complained about lack of sleep or the frequency at which Amelia has to eat or be changed.
I feel bad about going to work and leaving her home. I want to stay home with them and spend as much time with Amelia as Livy does. But running your own business leaves little room for time off. Being gone for two weeks was really difficult. I snuck in phone calls and emails to the office and to clients when I could, just to make sure I didn’t fall behind on the status of everything too much.
Livy says she’s fine but I know she’s not. She’s tired and has no energy to take care of herself. It’s like when she took care of Joe but on a completely higher level. I’m not sure when she last changed her clothes or showered. Or even ate. I know she’s eating because she has to nurse Amelia but I don’t know if she’s eating enough.
I worry about the postpartum depression her doctor talked to us about. I’ve been watching out for symptoms but I haven’t witnessed any. Livy shows nothing toward Amelia but love. Even when Amelia is screaming bloody murder for no reason, Livy never breaks. As Livy does, in true Livy fashion, she surprises the hell out of me at how much patience and resolve she has with Amelia. I have to admit that I’ve been frustrated on more than one occasion, which I later feel terrible about because Livy has not once faltered and I’m doing half the work she is.
Not for lack of trying. I help out how I can but before I even realize that helping hands are needed Livy’s already taken care of it. I’ve asked her countless times to let me know if she needs help, or a break or anything at all. All she ever does in response is nods.
It’s my second day back to work and to play catch-up, I was in the office nearly twelve hours. I had not even realized it until I noticed the sun going down.
When I get home, there is a note on the kitchen counter:
Jeremy, there are some leftovers in the red bowls in the fridge.
Sorry, I tried to stay up for you but I have to get up with Amelia soon.
I love you. I will see you in the morning.
My heart sank. I feel like an asshole. She cooked dinner for me and I didn’t even call to check up on her.
As I heated up my leftovers, I checked to see if there was any pumped milk in the fridge for Amelia. I could stay up and feed Amelia and let Livy sleep. However, I didn’t see any. But I could stay up and wait for Livy to get up so I could try to help. Or at least see my wife. I miss her. She’s Zombie Livy. Or maybe more like Robot Livy. Or maybe both. Zombie-Robot Livy. She is mechanical and simultaneously always half asleep. She goes through the motions of feeding and changing. I only see her smile when she’s talking to Amelia. She hugs me and tells me she loves me but I know she has no more energy to spend on me. I’m hoping as time moves on and we adjust to being parents, I’ll get my Livy back.
My Livy.
Right now, she is Amelia’s Livy.
I sit on the couch in front of the TV with my leftovers and a beer and count down the minutes until Livy and Amelia are awake.
~~~
“Jeremy. Jeremy.” I hear Livy’s sweet voice. My brain instantly goes to the day we first met.
That melodic voice that kidnapped my heart.
“Jeremy, wake up.”
I’m shaking. Someone is shaking my shoulder.
Am I asleep?
“Jeremy, babe, wake up.”
I open my eyes and see Livy’s beautiful, tired face. I smile and yawn.
“Hey, babe,” I say in a raspy voice.
“You want to come to bed?”
I nod and stand. I wrap my arms around Livy and kiss her. She pulls away. “I look and smell like death. Certainly you don’t want to kiss me.”
“I don’t care.” I kiss her again and she kisses me back and squeezes her arms around me.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t call. The time seriously got away from me today.”
“It’s ok. I figured you had to play catch up from being gone.”
I love her so much. She doesn’t give me the business about not calling or working late. She understands.
I kiss her on the side of her face, “I love you so much.”
She smiles. “Amelia ate well. Let’s go to bed.”
“Let’s,” I agree. I don’t focus too much on the fact that she didn’t say I love you back. Or that her immediate reply was regarding Amelia. I chalk it up to it being 1am and an attempt to sleep is probably her main priority right now.
I follow her to the bedroom, strip to my boxers and crawl into bed with her. I pull her into my chest. “If you have time and think about it, put some extra milk in the fridge tomorrow and I’ll feed Amelia tomorrow night.” I hug her.
“Ok,” she says.
She wraps her arms around my chest.
I kiss the top of her head. “Good night, my love.”
“Good night.”
I listen and wait for her to fall asleep. I follow suit not far behind.
***
27
Livy
Six months later
I’m exhausted. Amelia hates to sleep. I still can’t get her to sleep through the night. I haven’t slept a full night since...well, definitely before Amelia was born.
Lack of sleep has many side effects. Two things mostly being that I can’t concentrate on a singular thought for more than three seconds, and that my memory has turned to total shit. I can’t remember anything about what I did the previous day or better yet, what I did five minutes ago. I’m constantly writing things down on post-it notes. Often, however, I forget where I’ve left the post-it notes and find them days, or even weeks, later, when the reminder is no longer even relevant. I’ve gone to the store for milk and eggs, only to come back with just potatoes and laundry detergent. I’ve gone out in public wearing my shirt inside out and two completely different shoes on my feet. I lost my keys once and completely turned everything in my house over to find them, only to discover that I’d set them in the freezer. I found my hairbrush in the freezer once too. Now, if I lose anything, the freezer is my go-to usual suspect.
Amelia is in constant motion, scooting around like an inchworm or rolling through the apartment like tumbleweed. When she’s awake, she’s moving, and, unfortunately, so am I. During her adventures, Amelia scopes out anything she can grab, and everything she touches goes into her mouth. I thought I had baby-proofed adequately, but she’s always finding something to try to shove into her face to soothe her achy gums. For instance, the TV remote that I thought was out of her reach, yet she somehow Houdini-ed into her clutches. One of Jeremy’s socks that she found in an under the sofa exploration. Was it clean? Nope. And thankfully I caught her before she had a mouthful of dusty, foot germs. My favorite though was when I caught her gnawing on a leg of one of the dining room chairs. I had to give her accolades for creativity. I don’t
know what I’m doing wrong because I keep ample teething toys in her vicinity but she refuses them all. And I feel like I watch her like a hawk, but I swear, I blink and she sees it as an opportunity to rebel and find something uncharted to chew on.
Second in contention to the downsides of motherhood, right underneath exhaustion, is loneliness. I see people all of the time. But I’m living in a bubble and taking on this task of being a mother while everyone else goes about their normal, daily routine. And when people are around, it’s constant discussions about Amelia and, where Jeremy’s family is concerned, all other children that have been birthed in the Waters family before Amelia. I’d give anything to talk to an adult about any subject other than diaper rashes or breast feeding. I talk to Jeremy’s mother and aunts often, but that’s all they want to talk about...how’s the baby? Or, when Jeremy was a baby he blah, blah, blah...I generally tune out. When Jenna and I used to hang out, we’d talk about future travel destinations, or books or sports—light, general interest conversation. But, not anymore. Now, all dialogue with her somehow ends up being comparative prattle on how Amelia is progressing based on how her own kids developed. Even when I attempt to change the subject, it always leads back to that. Maxwell has visited a few times and so have Joe and Vicky—all time spent doting on Amelia. Sara came to visit once to meet Amelia when she was first born. But her research has her swamped with work, and when she does have free time, she and Craig try to make the most of it spending every second they can with each other.
I remember those days.
Jeremy is never home. Not even on weekends. He works all of the time. I’ve done all of Amelia’s doctor’s appointments alone. Grocery shopping with Amelia—alone. And yes, I say going to the store with Amelia—alone—because when you are in a store with a child that can’t quite yet comprehend the English language and all she wants to do is throw a tantrum because she’s hungry or tired, or whatever, you feel absolutely alone.
