When Vivien was born, I felt like I was on top of the
world. She was beautiful and precious
and I could hardly believe my good fortune.
I had a loving boyfriend, a beautiful daughter and my modest home. I had a promising career in journalism and I
felt like I had everything I wanted and needed.
However I found out in the months following Vivi’s birth
that I lacked one crucial thing – time.
I no longer had time for anything, it seemed. My life became a flurry of diapers, bottles
and cleaning. Ugh, the endless cleaning.
It felt like every day I had to scrub the shower, the countertops, the
stove… I had been placed on maternity leave from work and found myself growing
restless and depressed. My small little
brick abode, which I had once been so excited over, felt like a prison. I found
that my guitar playing time had been replaced with snuggle time, with feeding
time, with changing time. I barely had
enough time to squeeze out a few paragraphs of an article to keep my skills
sharp before I returned to work. I loved my daughter dearly, but I found myself
growing resentful of motherhood.
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| Sometimes I didn't even have time to change out of my pajamas |
I hated myself for
it, but at the same time I couldn’t help it. I felt upset thinking that I had
rushed into all of this. It wasn’t fair –
not to me, but certainly not to Vivien. Or Jared. Oh, Jared. I did love him. Our relationship certainly had its ups and
downs. I would even go as far as to say
it isn’t an ideal relationship. We had arguments and tiffs, often over little
things. But I knew he loved me. I knew he loved Vivi. It was obvious every time he came home from
work (often late at night). His very
first stop would be to her crib, to stroke her soft chubby cheek and watch her
dreaming. She was the apple of his eye.
And – this is horrible – I was jealous because of it. Jealous that I had to share my lover and best
friend with someone else, even if it is my own daughter. And then I felt horribly selfish for feeling
that way. And then I felt nervous and
anxious that someone would pick up on my jealousy, my insane selfishness, and
think I was a horrible person for it. This cycle repeated itself on a near
daily basis. I could barely hold myself together.
It all came to a head on crisp Tuesday night. Jared was working and Vivi was unbearably
cranky with colic. I had just put her
down for the night (for the third time) I barely had time to shove some
leftovers onto a plate before she was crying again. I hadn’t eaten all day. The hunger combined with exhaustion, and
frustration that my little girl was hurting and I couldn’t help her made me
crumple. I went to the nursery, took
Vivi into my arms, sank into the corner and cried.
It was there that Jared found me when he came home an hour or
so later. Vivi had finally fallen asleep and I had finally managed to turn off
the waterworks. He gingerly took her
from my arms and placed her into the crib.
Then he sat in front of me, took my hands into his, and asked me what
was wrong.
I found myself crying again as I spilled everything – the guilt,
the jealousy, the selfishness, the feeling that I was an inadequate mother, the
anxiety and nervousness. The fear that
we did everything too soon. He listened to all of it, never interrupting me and
never getting angry. When I was finally
finished he pulled me into a hug. His
words were firm and reassuring.
“It’s okay, Addie.
This sometimes happens right after you’ve had a baby.”
He promised me it wouldn’t always be this way and that Vivi
would grow faster than we could keep up with and soon we would both be longing
for her baby days again. It seemed
impossible, but I trusted him.
The next day Jared went out to run errands. When he came home, he had a surprise for me –
a sculpting station. I was baffled. Although I was very grateful for the gift I
had never expressed an interested in sculpting and had no idea what I would do
with it.
“I think your creativity needs to be a little more physical,”
he explained. “I think you will feel better when you see your ideas take shape.”
So I trusted him again.
And I began to work on feeling better.
And after a while, I did feel better. I began to feel like my old self again –
laughing, playing, and flirting with Jared like we did in the early stages of
our relationship.
But I had to face the fact that we weren’t courting anymore. We had what my mother always called a “grown
up” relationship. And I decided one
sunny afternoon that it was time we took the next step.
We couldn’t afford a wedding and quite frankly, neither of
us cared much about the frills. We tied
the knot right there at the edge of our lot, with the hills and the sea as the
backdrop.
And it seemed like just a few short weeks later, it was Vivi’s
birthday. My god, already? I felt like I
had just barely started to pull myself from my post-partum slump and enjoy the
finer aspects of motherhood, and my little pea was already going to be a
toddler. That almost made me feel depressed
all over again. But I wouldn’t let that
happen. I threw my energy into planning
a birthday party for this most special day.
And there she was. I was happy to see she inherited my
complexion, because Jared is so pale that I swear he gets burned on a moonlight
night. She still had his eyes though –
lovely deep green with a gaze that goes on forever.
I relished being the mom of a toddler. Vivien was like a tiny little sponge, soaking
up all the knowledge and experiences that she could. I found myself mindlessly talking to her
throughout the day – about everything.
Every thought that popped into my head (only the nice ones, mind you) I
vocalized with the hope that she would absorb what I was saying, internalize
it, and put it to good use someday.
However, she was still just a toddler, and that requires an
awful lot of patience and cleaning. Vivi was a particularly slobby eater.
When I wasn’t with Vivi, I spent time sculpting. Jared earned a promotion at work and used his
raise to build a small studio behind the house.
It became home to my sculpting station, and Jared’s easel and
treadmill. Jared had taken to the
treadmill when he began to gain weight after Vivien’s birth, but he found it
wasn’t quite the hobby he was looking for.
He took up painting, and even though he professed his love of the easel
and pallet, I think it was just so he could spend more time with me.
Of course, I didn’t mind that at all. Most of my coworkers complained of their
relationships slowing down after marriage, but it felt like mine and Jared’s
went exactly the opposite. We were giddy
to be married and in love, and it showed in every aspect of our relationship.
Yes, every aspect.
Which began to show a few months after Vivi’s birthday.
I couldn’t believe it – pregnant! Again! I was thrilled and
excited. I felt much more prepared this
time. I felt like I had a stable footing
in life and I had learned so much during my first pregnancy that I felt
incredibly confident and ready.
I waited until the night of Jared’s birthday to tell him the
big news. I was puzzled to find that he
was acting rather distant towards me and Vivi on his birthday – he was not his
normal, fun-loving self. I suspect it
had to do with aging up and not having fulfilled his life’s wish of being a
celebrity chef. I tried to talk to him
about it, to tell him that he was still a wonderful husband, father and
provider, but it proved fruitless. I decided to throw a party for him, to cheer
him up. Jared loved parties.
The party was a wonderful success, and after the guests had
dispersed, I approached Jared in the kitchen.
“Vivi is going to have a little brother or sister…congratulations,
you’re going to be a papa again!”
He looked excited, but not as much as I had hoped he would
be. I hoped with all my heart that it
was just a phase he was going through, that he was just a little depressed
about getting old and feeling sorry for himself. I tried not to let bad thoughts enter my
head, but my anxiety lapped at the corners of my mind. What if he doesn’t want
another baby? What if he’s not really excited? What if he thinks he made a
mistake with our marriage?”
I had to push these thoughts deep down – especially because
Vivi’s birthday was fast approaching.
Which was odd, it seemed like just a few days ago she became a
toddler. My gosh, Jared was right. Where
did the time go? Where is the little pink bundle that could barely fit her hand
around my entire finger?
She is grown up now.
She is still my little girl, but she's not my baby anymore
A few weeks after Vivi’s birthday, I began to feel the
unmistakable cramping in my stomach. Oh
my god, the baby. The baby is coming.
“But it’s not due for a few more weeks!” Jared’s voice
sounded small and scared. I knew he shared my same fear – that something might
be wrong.
I called Connor to watch Vivien and quickly called a cab to
take me to the hospital. Jared stayed by
my side, but he got called away for a work emergency right before I went into
labor. Our son was born a few hours
later, and I took a cab home. I felt
hopelessly alone in that moment. I was
bitter with Jared for leaving, but I knew he was just trying to make sure we were
taken care of.
But when he arrived home later, he did the same thing he’d
always done. Straight to the nursery.
You were born on a Sunday, Kai. You scared us all by being so early but you
defied the odds and came out healthy and strong. You don't know it yet, but we love you so much.
