Chapter 1: What Did We Get Ourselves Into

Shea tells the story of how she and her friends came to be mothers.

It’s a funny thing when you come home from the hospital with a living, breathing little person in your arms and you know her health and happiness depends entirely on you. On one hand, you cling to your previous life and pray that nothing will change; on the other, you stare into those beautiful eyes looking up at you and hope everything will.

Riley

Ten Days Old…

The first thing I remember about becoming a mother was the silence. Sure, before that, there was the moaning and, of course, the screaming. There was also the crying when Everett's mom showed up and the many cheery cries of "Congratulations." But I didn't truly feel like a mother until the front door closed and all that was left was the silence. Zoe was asleep, like she had been for half of her life already. Everett plopped down on the couch in front of her car seat with an audible sigh and said, "Now what?" Now what, indeed.

Zoe Serena Corvel was born on May 17, 2010. 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 19 inches long and a tuft of the blondest hair you've ever seen. She had my eyes and Everett’s everything else. I loved her instantly.

But for you to fully understand how much, I have to go back 40 weeks.

Everett and I had only been dating for six months. Our relationship was still in the getting-to-know-you phase but we decided we cared enough about each other to commit to that phase entirely. In fact, he had invited me to move into his apartment three weeks earlier and I’d agreed. There’s nothing like living with a man to push you head first into getting to know him--dirty laundry (literally and figuratively), parental issues and all. Lucky for me, Everett didn’t have too many of any of them, and we fell into a life together rather easily. Perhaps a little too easily.

I’d like to say the condom broke. It would be more responsible. That’s what I told my mother. The truth is, there was no condom. We had every intention of using one but when the time came, we just didn’t. Most women would have freaked out in the aftermath of what they’d done. They would have mentally accounted for their last period and potential ovulating schedule. They would have called their girlfriends and obsessed about what might be. They would have scoured the internet for an answer that would set their mind at ease. I did none of those things. I forgot about it and went on with my life.  It was so unlike me.  Looking back now, I think some part of me knew.

Until I couldn’t eat a hot dog. I know there are a lot of people out there, with the emergence of the health food movement and the obsessive-compulsive dieting, who never eat hot dogs, but I love them. Once a week, I used to walk two blocks down the street from my office in downtown Phoenix and buy one from the stand that sold the best hot dogs I’d ever tasted in real life. (No, I’ve never been to Gray’s Papaya. Forgive me.) Albert, the old man who ran the stand and asked me on a date every time I visited, despite my (then) boyfriend and the fact that he had thirty years on me, told me it was because he was Polish. I don’t know if they even have hot dogs in Poland, but to secure my weekly fix, I’d listen to whatever bullshit Albert wanted to sling at me.

One Tuesday, thirty-seven weeks ago, I bought my hot dog as usual. I thanked Albert, told him I’d think about dinner and a movie and began my walk back to the office. I brought the hot dog to my mouth, but before I got the chance to taste it, my stomach churned and a wave of nausea hit me so intensely my vision went temporarily dark. I stopped on the sidewalk and clutched my stomach, cursing. Didn’t it know this was my most beloved lunch of the week? Apparently not, because when I tried a second time, I actually threw up on the side of the road. Classy, right? The nausea passed as quickly as it had come but only after I'd given up on my hot dog.  I didn’t give it a second thought until I mentioned it in passing to my co-worker when I got back to the office.  And she said the “P” word.

Then I remembered that night. It was like one of those montages in a movie when the character flashes back to a night of passion--kissing, licking, touching--except it was set to the music from Friday the 13th.

It wasn’t that I was afraid to have a baby. I’d always planned to have one. It’s just that I always planned to have one when I was forty-five. Everett and I had even talked about it in the first few weeks of dating, back when we actually talked about what we wanted out of life instead of what was on TV tonight. He wanted kids. More than me, actually...but, like me, he wanted to wait. At least until we were married.

I was six months along when we tied the knot. The saleswoman who sold me the dress said it was slimming.  I told her the jig was up.  Everyone had their suspicions. No one gets married that quickly anymore.

On our wedding night I asked Everett if he was sure. Sure of what, he’d asked me.

“Me. The baby. Everything,” I said. His only answer was to put his hand on my cheek and give me a teary smile. 

Still, I wondered.  Especially that first night we brought Zoe home and she kept us up all night. But I love him more than any woman probably should love a man so I never asked again. I wasn’t going to convince him to change his mind.

A week after the wedding, Everett asked for a promotion and got it, along with an extra ten hours of work and an expense account. I quit my job and spent my free time preparing the baby’s room and reading every parenting book I could get my hands on.

Then, at thirty-two weeks, something awful happened.

Everett and I were in the shower when I finally told him about the fear that had been haunting me for the past two days. Not that we probably shouldn’t shower together anymore. It really was dangerous at my size. No, I was worried the baby felt lower in my pelvis than she should. I had tried to vocalize only the concerns I was sure about because I had a different one every day and I knew I was driving Everett crazy with them. Really, he told me one night, how can one woman suffer every possible symptom and complication in What to Expect When You’re Expecting? But this time I was sure, and Everett saw it in my eyes. He took me to the doctor the next morning, where she confirmed what I was afraid of: I had gone into preterm labor.

Preterm labor isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a pregnant woman, but it’s right up there. At thirty-six weeks and later, it’s not even considered preterm. At thirty-four weeks, it’s still likely the baby will be fine, but she may need to spend time in the NICU. At thirty-two weeks, the gestational age mine had reached, the baby would likely live, but her lungs wouldn’t be fully developed, and she would almost certainly have to stay in the NICU. Possibly until her original due date. I went into panic mode. The doctor gave me medication to stop any contractions and the sincere hope we would make it all the way. There was nothing more she could do.

I didn’t sleep that night, and because of my tossing and turning, neither did Everett. Over the next week, I didn’t gain a single pound because I had a hard time eating anything. The exact opposite of what I should have been doing, of course, but I was literally sick with worry. Everett kept saying the stress would only make it more likely that I’d deliver early but telling me not to worry about my unborn child being hooked up to tubes and ventilators while she was no bigger than my hand was like telling me not to crave chocolate while I was on my period. (Not that I remembered PMS very well.) The more I tried not to think about it, the more I thought about it.

On a side note, I always thought when I got pregnant, missing my period would make my life nearly perfect but the truth is, with the morning sickness and cravings and belly so big I could barely reach the steering wheel, it wasn't exactly a beach vacation.

As the following couple of weeks passed and the danger lessened and retreated to the back of my mind, we returned to life as usual and signed up for Lamaze class. That’s where I met the two best friends of my life.

Everett and I strutted into the conference room at the hospital like it was the first day of high school. I may or may not have bought a new notebook and pen for the occasion. I knew immediately who I would be sitting with, and it wasn’t the sixteen-year-old girl with her fifteen-year-old boyfriend. Nor was it the woman who actually was forty-five. The only two pregnant women left in the room were Riley, who was there with her mom, and Jasmine, with her husband, Hector.  Everett and I, with a little encouragement on my part, squeezed in right between them.

We chatted during the class, and afterward, I invited them out for coffee. Everett gave me a questioning look in an attempt to remind me of the baseball gave on TV, but ever since I’d quit my job, I’d been starved for conversation. Riley’s mom didn’t join us, and the men quickly retreated to the sports bar next door.  Then, over decaf mochas, the three of us women discussed birthing plans and girl’s names. We were all having girls...or so we thought.

After that day, we were inseparable. It was a bit illogical, really, the way we banded together like a group of teenage girls, but as with teenage girls, we had a few very important things in common: One, our due dates were within two months of each other. Two, all three of us were soon-to-be first time mothers. Three, none of us had any idea what we were doing. We got together at the coffee shop every week after that until our respectful “D-Day”s--each week, scooting our chairs further and further from the table.

My little girl, Zoe, was the first one out of the gate, although I don’t give her complete credit. After the “Big Scare of 32”, as Everett liked to call it, we ended up having to induce. I’m not looking forward to what this means for her teen years. Riley gave birth to Alexis on May 22nd, eight days later, and three days after that, by cesarean section, Jasmine delivered Andrea. And Xavier.

I visited Jasmine at the hospital that day. Riley and I both did.  And once again, it was silent. I sat in the rocking chair and Zoe slept in my arms. Riley nursed Alexis on the cot. Jasmine held the twins, one each arm, and all of us revered in the most amazing feeling a woman could ever feel. There were no words.

And that’s how we became mothers.

And that’s how our lives changed forever.

Author's Note

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I really appreciate your thoughts. They keep me writing.

Reviews

[Noa]

Hello!

The story you are telling is fascinating to me; especially because it is different from so many ideals. A fairly short relationship, a forgotten condom, doubts. These are the kind of things that make me relate to your character, even though I am a long way from becoming a mother myself (that's how I feel at the moment, though).

As for your writing, I like the clarity a lot. You say what you need to say, without making things prettier (or less pretty) than necessary.
Though there is a lot of variety between long and short sentences, I personally feel that your long sentences are a bit too long, and your short sentences a bit too short. It makes the reading a bit less fluid.
Choosing first person for this piece was definitely the right decision. A topic like this is supposed to be up close and personal, and that's exactly the feeling that you've created.

I enjoyed reading this chapter, and I'm very curious to see where this story will go. Thank you for sharing your work!
-Noa

[Kegs]

You definitely know what you're doing. Great writing!

The only comment I have is that this chapter doesn't seem to connect with your other chapters. This one reads more like a diary entry and the others actually feel like a novel. I crave more dialogue and description. Even though your character is telling a story from her past, you can make the reader feel like they are there by adding those elements.

Keep it up!

[Miranda]

Also, your characters sound so real!

[Miranda]

I love this so far. Its perfectly written and interesting. You are a great writer!

[~Artemis~]

Okay first of all, I love your narrator. I also loved the writing style, it was... intriguing, I wanted to keep reading. I liked how it flowed, yet it still had a distinct and uncliched feel too it. I could feel your character's personality through it. It also seamed very natural, their weren't any glitches in it.

This isn't really a complement or criticism, more like an observation. it seamed that you got a little less-thorough-at the end. It felt just a tiny bit rushed compared to the rest of it. However, I really liked the pacing of this chapter and changing the end might mess that up. So you can take this however you like, or just ignore it.

[Serenity]

This is truer to life than anything I've ever read before. A mistake there, quickly made decisions, and life altering effects. It read so quickly because you could identify with her--whether or not you were a mother yourself. Every female could identify with what she goes through because at some point we've all had those thoughts.

I have to say I'm really impressed with this and I'm looking forward to reading more of it. (And not just because Zoe's middle name is my real name lol) It reminds me so much of what my young cousins went through--having their children at barely over twenty and struggling with the fears of becoming a first time mother. I might even suggest they read it for themselves.

[Emily B]

it is amazing how often women lapse into the 'when i was a pregnant' stories . . . when I gave birth . . . when my children were babies . . . it is a wonderful adventure and you tell it well

[Ms_Sassypants]

I have to say I absolutely LOVE this! The way you constructed the words, the flow of every sentence, the simple structure! The story unfolded in my eyes as I "listened" to the narrator telling the story. It was a wonderful experience. Your first-person narration is fantastic - it didn't come across as a diary or a rant, it came across as an exciting tv series! Awesome work! In fact, it transformed me into their world and I WISH to be a mother right now! Keep it up!

[Short.Nerd]

Wonderful beginning!(:

[tinagina]

I really enjoyed this chapter. I am not a mother myself yet, but the main character is still relatable. I love how the story flows. There is no unnecessary clutter and it still paints a vivid picture in my mind.

I am really interested in the bonds that the main character formed with the two other women. I can't wait to see how it develops as their children grow.