The Perfect Child

by Berry, Lucinda

“Are you kidding me?” she hissed. “I told you not to take him. I was freaking out the entire time you were gone. And you didn’t even answer your phone.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot it.” I tried to hug her, but she pulled away.

  “All I pictured were terrible things happening to you guys. I kept seeing you getting carjacked with the baby in the car or getting crushed by a drunk driver. What if a stray bullet hit you?”

  “Hannah, calm down. A stray bullet? Where do you think we live?”

  Her eyes filled with fear. “I don’t care. That’s what I kept seeing. Don’t ever do that to me again. Ever. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. I’d never seen her so unsettled.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  HANNAH BAUER

  I eyed Christopher in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, trying to pretend like I wasn’t spying on him. He’d left the door open while he got ready, something he never did because he didn’t want to wake me or Cole. He was trying just as hard to pretend he wasn’t trying to keep an eye on me, but it was the reason he’d kept the door open in the first place. He’d looked at me like I was a stranger the morning after a one-night stand when he’d rolled over in bed earlier.

  I didn’t recognize myself any more than he did. I checked to make sure Cole was still asleep in his bassinet next to the bed before inching my way out and following Christopher into the bathroom. I leaned against the counter for support. I was so tired; it took too much energy to stand. He didn’t look up from brushing his teeth.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did last night.” Shame burned my cheeks.

  “It’s okay. You were just exhausted.” He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

  “It was so weird. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I couldn’t stop the images. They all just felt so real.” This morning it seemed like a strange dream.

  “Postpartum pregnancy hormones are brutal, but you’ve got to be near the end of them,” he said. “Things will be better soon.”

  His words were positive, but they were forced, and he still hadn’t looked at me. Why wouldn’t he look at me? It made the situation more uncomfortable, and things were already weird enough.

  “I really wish you’d let me stay home today.”

  I shook my head. “They’re going to give your job away if you’re never there.” The last thing we needed was for Christopher to lose his job. I couldn’t handle one more stressful event on our plate.

  The following days didn’t get any easier. Janie was determined to make things hard. She started having accidents all the time. She wasn’t bothered by the mess or the smell.

  “I pooped, Mommy,” she’d say in a singsong voice. “Change me.”

  Sometimes she’d stand in the living room looking right at me and start peeing. I’d yell at her to get into the bathroom, and she’d just stand there, shrugging her shoulders.

  I wanted to rest, but as soon as I’d sit on the couch, Janie would call out and ask for help with something. She’d always thrived on being independent and doing things by herself if she could, but suddenly she couldn’t do anything without help, and it never failed that she needed something whenever I was nursing. I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for days. There were moments when I almost gave in and hired a nanny like Christopher wanted, but no matter how tired I was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If Allison could find a way to manage with the twins all by herself, then I could find a way to manage my family situation too.

  I always asked Janie if she needed anything prior to breastfeeding or any other task with Cole that would take longer than a few minutes, but she always said no and then waited until I was in the middle of caring for him to bombard me with requests. So it was no surprise when she slid up to me later that afternoon while I nursed Cole and announced, “I’m thirsty.”

  I held back the urge to roll my eyes. “Okay, can you grab your cup on the coffee table? I think it still has your milk in it.” I’d quickly learned to have snacks and drinks accessible to her at all times. It was one less thing for her to ask me for. The trick was to stay one step ahead of her.

  She frowned. “I don’t want that milk.”

  “It’s still cold. It hasn’t been sitting there that long.” She hated drinking milk after it got warm. I hated warm milk too. My mom used to try and get me to drink warm milk when I couldn’t sleep as a kid, and I didn’t like it then either.

  “No. I want that milk.”

  I looked around. “What are you talking about?”

  She pointed to my breast. “That. I want that.”

  I looked down at Cole suckling my right breast. I tried to pull my shirt over my other breast, suddenly feeling exposed. “Um . . . you can’t have that.”

  “Why?”

  I swallowed. “Because . . . well, Cole is a baby, and the milk that comes from my breast is for babies. When he gets older, he won’t drink it either. He’ll drink milk just like you do.”

  Her eyes filled with challenge. “It’s not fair. I want that milk. It’s better.”

  “It’s not better. It’s, uh . . . different. It has special things that babies need to keep them healthy. Why don’t you give me a minute, and I’ll get you fresh milk from the refrigerator?”

  “No. I want that.” Her voice rose with each word.

  I pulled Cole off my nipple. Thankfully, he’d had enough, so he didn’t cry. He settled into a milk coma, and I placed him in his infant carrier. I yanked my shirt down, smoothing it in front of me.

  “Give me your milk!” She grabbed at my chest.

  I pulled away. “Janie, no, stop that.”

  She grabbed my breast and pinched hard.

  I slapped her hand away instinctively. “Ouch. That hurt.”

  She jumped up and kicked Cole’s carrier. “He’s stupid. And ugly. Ugly, stupid baby!” She kicked the carrier again, and it fell on its side. Cole rolled onto the floor.

  “Janie!” I screamed as Cole started wailing. I scooped him up from the floor. “Shhh . . . shhh . . . it’s okay. You’re okay.” I bounced as I walked. I pointed to her room. “Go to your room now.”

  She glared at me. “I hate you.”

  I pointed again. “Go!”

  “Take him back!” she screamed before stomping to her room and slamming the door behind her like an angry teenager.

  I checked Cole over. Thankfully, he hadn’t hit hard, and his blanket had landed first, so he’d fallen on that instead of the wooden floor. He seemed fine.

  I texted Christopher at work:

  Janie just flipped out and knocked Cole out of his carrier.

  It took a couple hours before he texted back:

  Just got out of surgery. Why?

  She got pissed because I wouldn’t let her drink my breast milk.

  WHAT????

  Yep. She wanted to drink it. Totally freaked out when I said no.

  What’s she doing now?

  She’s been in her room screaming and crying for the last two hours.

  Ok. Got surgery. Text me later.

  Will do.

  I carried Cole into the kitchen to get away from Janie’s sounds, but no matter where I went in the house, I could still hear her throwing a fit. Cole started fussing, and before long he worked himself up into one of his frenzies. I tried to nurse him, but he twisted away from me. The cries from both of them reverberated off the walls. I paced the house. Neither of them stopped. My anxiety built the longer they cried. I walked through the hallway, pausing at Janie’s door. Her screams cut through my brain. Before I knew what I was doing, I pounded on her door and screamed, “Shut up! Just shut up!”

  She quieted immediately. I held my breath. The crying didn’t start back up. I’d never yelled at her before. All the times she’d pushed me and frustrated me, I’d never raised my voice no matter how much I’d wanted to. I should’ve felt bad. But all I felt was relieved that she’d stopped. It took another thirty minutes before I got Cole quiet too. I strappe
d him into his swing and wound it up, grateful for a few moments of peace.

  I headed back down the hallway and into Janie’s room, hoping she’d cried herself to sleep. I opened the door slowly so I wouldn’t wake her in case she had. She was sitting on her rug in a puddle of puke.

  “Oh my God, you threw up,” I said, waves of guilt crashing over me.

  She glared at me through bloodshot eyes.

  “I’m so sorry that I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” I said. Any relief from the quiet was gone and replaced with shame.

  “You’re mean,” she said.

  I crouched next to her. I went to hug her, but she jerked away. “You’re right. I said something very mean to you. I should not have done that, and I’m sorry.” I rubbed her back. She flinched like I was hurting her. “Come on. Let’s go into the bathroom and get you cleaned up.”

  She walked ahead of me into the bathroom. I peeked into the family room to make sure Cole was asleep before joining her. She was struggling to get her shirt off.

  “Here, let me help you.” I straightened it and pulled it over her head. “How about we just give you a bath?”

  “In the day?”

  “Sure. It’s not a regular day.” I bit my cheek to keep from crying. It was a day I’d never forget. The one where I had crossed the line, made my child so upset she’d thrown up. What kind of a mother did that?

  I filled the tub and squirted her with the bath toys. She wouldn’t laugh like she usually did, but she finally smiled. It didn’t make me feel any better.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Janie. Mommy should not have done that,” I said.

  “It’s okay, Mommy.” She picked up one of the green toys and handed it to me. “Mommies always yell.”

  I froze. She’d never said anything about her mother. Never. Not once. What did I do? Was I supposed to say something? Ask more questions? I frantically looked around like Christopher would pop out of one of the walls and tell me what to do. My armpits dripped with sweat. I had to do something.

  “Really? They do?”

  I didn’t want to push her. That much I remembered from the early days. Her team always said not to pressure her to talk about her past, and Piper had said to never ask leading questions. We were supposed to leave it up to her to talk. Did that still apply now?

  Cole squawked from the living room. Of course he decided to wake up now. It was only a few seconds before he moved into a full-fledged wail.

  “What else do mommies do?” I asked. It wasn’t an open-ended question, but I didn’t have time.

  She shrugged, then squealed, “Poopy pants,” before bursting into giggles perfectly timed with Cole’s piercing cries. I handed her a towel.

  “I’ll run and get you clothes while you dry off, honey,” I said.

  I hurried to her bedroom and grabbed her an outfit. I laid it on her bed.

  “Janie, your clothes are on your bed,” I yelled above Cole’s cries. “I’m going to be in the living room feeding Cole.”

  He was so worked up it took him a while to settle on my breast, but he finally did. He hadn’t been settled for long when Janie plodded into the living room wearing only her underwear.

  “Can I have some of your milk?” she asked.

  THIRTY-NINE

  CHRISTOPHER BAUER

  The house was dark when I got home. Stillness enveloped it. I opened the door quietly and stepped over the spot on the wooden floor where it creaked. I tiptoed through the living room and into the hallway. Janie was already sleeping. It was too early for her to be asleep. Hopefully she wasn’t sick. Our bedroom door was shut. I put my ear up to the wood, straining to hear anything. I wasn’t going to wake them if they were asleep. I’d sleep on the couch. It was worth a terrible night of sleep if Hannah got a chance to rest. My heart sank when I heard whimpering.

  I pushed open the door expecting to find Cole fussing, but he was fast asleep in his quilted bassinet next to the bed. Hannah lay curled up in the fetal position with a box of tissues next to her. I rushed over to her bedside and placed my hand on her forehead to check for fever. She wasn’t hot.

  “What happened?” I asked, leaning down to peer into her eyes. She looked depleted, spent.

  “I yelled at Janie today—screamed at her to shut up. I didn’t mean to, but she was crying so hard that I couldn’t stand it, and I snapped. I yelled at her. Screamed, really. And she cried so hard afterward that she threw up. She’s never cried so hard she threw up, and it’s all my fault,” she sobbed. “I’m a terrible mother.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close to me. Her body was damp with sweat. “It’s okay. I mean, obviously, it’s not okay that you yelled at her, but everyone screws up. Parents yell at their kids all the time.”

  An involuntary sob escaped, sending a shudder down the length of her body. “Yes, but not kids like Janie.”

  “Did you apologize?” It wasn’t lost on me that I had asked Janie the same question after she’d hurt Hannah in some way.

  She nodded.

  “Okay, well, then you taught her a valuable lesson today. You showed her that everyone screws up, even parents, but we apologize when we do. Those things are just as important for her to learn as the other things we teach her.” I wasn’t saying it to make her feel better, even though I hated seeing her sad; I believed it. There was nothing wrong with Janie discovering her parents were human and made mistakes. I massaged her shoulders. “Why don’t I make you some tea? You get in your pajamas while I grab it, okay?”

  I didn’t give her an opportunity to say no. She’d changed into her pajamas and washed her face when I came back. She looked so worn down. The bags underneath her eyes grew bigger each day. I handed her the cup of tea and said, “So I was thinking about something when I was downstairs . . .” She took a sip. “Do you think it’s time we revisited getting you some help with the kids?” I tried to sound as benign as possible to avoid offending her like I had in all our previous discussions about it. She glared at me but didn’t say no, so I quickly continued before she could stop me. “I know we always said that we didn’t want a nanny, but that was before we had two children and realized how hard it was to juggle everything. I’m having a hard time managing all of it myself.” I didn’t want her to think it was only about her. I was struggling too. “That’s why so many people do it, Hannah. And we don’t just have two children—we have two difficult and challenging children. Let’s just be honest: our job is harder than most.” I saw as she considered the possibility for the first time. I had to spring while there was an opening. “We aren’t committing to anything permanently. We can just do it now while everyone is adjusting. Most people have help during the newborn phase.”

  She shook her head.

  Had I read her wrong? “Your mom comes to help whenever she can. How’s that any different than hiring someone?” I asked.

  “Because it’s my mom. It’s not some stranger who’s going to be judging everything I do. Have you seen how trashed this place is?” Her eyes bulged out of her head as she talked.

  Janie’s room was the only place in the house that was trashed. Everything else was meticulous. Her frantic cleaning hadn’t changed. If anything, it’d gotten worse.

  I chose my words carefully, doing my best not to upset her any further. “Why don’t you just look at a few profiles online and see what you think?”

  “I’m not changing my mind.” She crossed her arms on her chest. The door was closed again.

  Her stubbornness was maddening, and it didn’t make sense. Hiring someone to help her care for the kids was the perfect solution to our problems. I reached out and caressed her back. “Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re a failure.”

  At first, I didn’t think she’d heard me, but then she announced, “I’m just going to breastfeed her.”

  I almost spit out my tea. “What?”

  It was completely out of the blue. She hadn’t said anything about actually doing it when we were
texting earlier today. She couldn’t be serious. Had she even been listening to me?

  “I’ve been thinking about it all day today. I googled tandem breastfeeding after she fell asleep tonight.”

  I interrupted her. “Tandem breastfeeding?”

  “It’s when you breastfeed two different children at the same time.”

  “Okay, but can we get back to talking about getting help for a while?” I tried to hide my annoyance at her perpetual avoidance of the topic.

  She shook her head. “This might work, Christopher. Part of the reason she feels so left out and is acting out is because Cole’s attached to my breast for most of the day. There’s nothing she hates more than feeling rejected. If she were a part of the experience, she might not feel so jealous.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. Motherhood had stripped all her former modesty. Women in other countries breastfed older children all the time, but the image of a grown child that I sat with at the dinner table suckling up to Hannah’s breast slightly disturbed me. I kept my mouth shut, though. She’d finally calmed down, and I didn’t want to say something to upset her all over again. There was no way to know what would set her off these days.

  “This could be a bonding experience for us. I’m sure she never experienced it with Becky. I mean, maybe Becky breastfed her, but I doubt it.”

  “If you’re comfortable with it, then I support whatever you want to do.” I patted the bed. “Why don’t you lie down and close your eyes?”

  She yawned at the mention of sleep. I tucked the blanket underneath her chin just like I did whenever I put Janie to bed. I kissed her on the top of her forehead. “Don’t worry about anything. Just rest. Tomorrow is a new day,” I said.

  Hannah grinned at me over breakfast the next morning like we shared a secret. She’d told me earlier while we were making coffee that she was still considering breastfeeding Janie. It was good to see the smile returned to her face, but I secretly hoped she’d forgotten about the idea. It wasn’t just that it was weird. We had worked so hard at moving Janie forward in her development, and it seemed like it’d be a step backward. What if it made her regress even further?