Chapter 5: A Mother's Job Is Never Done

Jasmine finds out she might have to cut her maternity leave short and Shea suffers her first mothering mishap.

Everything I do now shapes who she’ll be for the rest of her life. I can’t imagine a job more important than that.

Riley

8 Weeks Old…

I’m going to create a new triathlon for which I will be the reigning champion (or whatever the winner will be called).

Event 1: Sleep while nursing in contortionist positions.

Event 2: Clean every surface of a three-bedroom house while carrying a 20-pound baby.

Event 3: Apply makeup and coif the perfect hairstyle while relaying between the bathroom and the baby bouncer.

In the bag.

On Monday night, Everett volunteered to watch Zoe after work so I could visit Jasmine. I was excited--I’d only seen her a couple of times since we’d had our little time-suckers--but when I reached the door and heard her and Hector screaming at each other, I almost turned around and left. The worst part about it wasn’t that I stood there awkwardly for nearly ten minutes waiting for the right time to knock, it was realizing that Everett and I never argued like that...and wondering if something was wrong with us.

Finally, I did knock and Jasmine answered the door, flushed and out of breath.

“Hi,” I said coyly.

Jasmine smiled and in an instant, the tension was gone. That’s the great thing about Jasmine.

“Are things getting any better between you and Hector?” I asked after he left. I had Andrea in my arms and Jasmine held Xavier.

“What do you think? He just left for Pablo’s house for the third time this week.”

“What is going on with him?” I was astounded. I didn't know Hector very well, but every time I'd seen him in class, he had coddled Jasmine and her belly like the proudest of fathers.  And now...

Jasmine threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know. He won’t talk to me. He won’t help me. I’m about to call his mother.”

I laughed.

“What were you arguing about just now?” I asked her and shifted Andrea in my lap. Already she was a little spitfire, rearing and ready to take on the world. Xavier was more docile in Jasmine’s arms, happy to be snuggled.

“You heard that, did you?” Jasmine sighed. “My boss called today. He wants me back to work next week.”

“You’re kidding. I thought you had three months maternity leave.”

“I thought so too. But apparently, he changed his mind. He says if I don’t come in next week, he’ll fire me.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” I asked her.

“Yes, but tell him that. He’s a lawyer. He’ll find a legal way to get away with it. It pisses me off the way business looks down on parenting these days. I should have known he would do this. From the first time I told him I was pregnant, he stopped letting me help on major cases, sent me home early from work, and treated me like at any minute I might tear the office apart looking for ice cream and pickles.”

“I remember that. When I told my boss I was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom she looked at me like I’d sold my soul to the devil. Why is it everyone thinks women can’t be successful parents and have a successful career?”

“Can we?” she asked. “Really, Shea, because I’m starting to wonder. Today, for instance, I got four hours of sleep. Andrea slept in bed with me because she wouldn’t stay in her crib. I’ve nursed them both five times each, changed eleven dirty diapers, put Xavier down for three naps, two of them because Andrea woke him up. Andrea hasn’t gone down at all today because she absolutely refuses to. I haven’t gotten any laundry done, which is bad because Xavier can’t keep his mess in the diaper, and I’m almost out of outfits for him. Heaven forbid I put him in one of Andrea’s, because Hector would lose it if his boy even touched the color pink. Please tell me where in there I’d have time to type up a legal brief?”

“Well...” I said, eyebrows raised, “Honey, you’d get a nanny.”

Jasmine laughed, a sound that filled the room. “That is tempting. But, honestly, I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

I furrowed my brow in surprise at the Jasmine sitting in front of me.  The Jasmine I used to know loved her job.

“Are you ready to give up your career?” I asked.

Jasmine sighed. “Is that what it comes down to?”

***

The next day was my first day back to my real world responsibilities. Everett and I had been splitting errands between us while one of us stayed home with Zoe, but it was getting hard on us with Everett’s extra work hours. It was time for me to add another ball to my juggling act.

Juggling is a very appropriate term for the situation. On one arm, I had the diaper bag, a water bottle and a fistful of bills and grocery lists. On the other, the car seat, a toy for Zoe, my purse and my cell phone. I should have known it was a bad omen when I tried to open the car door and dropped the bills into a puddle.

First it was to the dry cleaner for Everett’s suits, and then to the electric company to pay over two hundred dollars to cool our house in the blistering Arizona heat. I did miss my second income a little right then. After that, I went to the water company and stopped to pick up some lunch. I took a page from Riley’s book and nursed her in the booth, but only because I had such little time and it really was incredibly hot in the car. I covered her, though. Zoe’s eyes were red with exhaustion, but no matter how much I rocked her, she wouldn’t go to sleep. She cried from the restaurant to the deli, from the deli to Target, and from Target to the grocery store. Between each stop, I changed her diaper and tried to get her to go sleep, but it was as if she hated being away from home or hated being in the car or hated me. As I bounced her in my arms while glancing between the clock and my grocery list, it felt like all three. Finally, I gave up and took her into the store with me, tears and all.

I felt humiliated every time someone looked at me. Zoe wouldn’t stop screaming. I’d never seen her like this. I leaned my head into the car seat to try to soothe her, but she only swatted me away. So instead, I vowed to get my shopping trip done as quickly as possible. I was like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep. I’m pretty sure one time I even scooped the boxes off the shelf into the cart.

Every aisle I went down, I got the eyes. Some of them were eyes of scorn, disbelief that I could keep shopping while my baby cried. Others were eyes of sympathy, understanding from those who had been in my shoes. By the time I finally got to the register, I just wanted all eyes off me. I wanted to get home so Zoe would stop crying, and I could start. I nearly jumped over the register and checked the items myself.

With one elbow rocking the car seat and the other holding up my purse as I fished through my wallet, it took me about thirty seconds to realize I didn’t have enough cash.

“How much is it again?” I asked the cashier, hoping the number had changed, or I’d misheard her. I felt the daggers on my back, the rolling of the eyes, the tapping of the feet.

“I don’t have enough,” I muttered. I batted the hair out of my eyes. Everything was irritating me, most of all Everett. He hadn’t added me to his accounts yet, and now that I didn’t have a job, I didn’t have any money of my own. “I’m ten dollars off,” I said. “Maybe I can put something back.” So with a splitting headache, I rummaged through the bags, looking for a ten-dollar item I could live without. And then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

The woman behind me, a kind-faced elderly woman with a fashionable pixie cut of silver hair, held a ten-dollar bill between her fingers.

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I told her. “That’s so...but really, I couldn’t.”

“Darling, you can. And you will. I refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

I hugged her. Right there in the line at Safeway, with Zoe still bawling her eyes out and five impatient people behind me, I hugged a complete stranger and accepted her money, not because I couldn’t part with anything in my bag or because I was having a meltdown, but because it was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in such a long time.

The woman laughed, patted me sweetly on the back and nudged me back toward the register. I took my groceries, thanked the woman, and counted down the minutes until I’d be home again and this day would be over. Little did I know the worst was still to come.

By this time, I knew Zoe was wet. I needed to get the milk into the air conditioned car before it spoiled, so I started the Tahoe with the AC blaring, and strapped Zoe into the back seat. I loaded all of the groceries into the back and ran the cart to corral. When I returned, I searched each of my pockets for the keys. I checked every one of them once, twice...and then I peered through the driver side window and saw them dangling from the ignition.

I pulled up on the door handle, and it didn’t open. I yanked it up and down, over and over. I checked the back door, the passenger door, the back hatch. Every single one of them was locked. I pressed my face against the glass to look at my purse on the passenger seat. Where my phone was. And then at Zoe, fast asleep.

For a moment, I stood there. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The world around me spun and my body felt weak. How could I have put myself in this situation? How could I be so stupid? Who needed bread from two different stores, anyway?

I stepped back and looked frantically around me, hoping the solution would come to me. I could borrow a strangers phone, but who would I call? I only had minutes to get to her before the car got too hot. Who could get here in time? I could ask someone to pick the lock, but what were the odds that someone here knew how to do it and had the tools on hand?

And then the solution jumped out at me. Heart racing, I ran to the end of the aisle and picked up a rock from the landscape. Without stopping to think about what I was doing or worry how crazy I looked to everyone walking by or even try to protect my hand, I smashed the rock against the glass of the passenger side window. The glass shattered into silver sparkles all over the seat and the ground around me. I unlocked the door and, even though she was finally asleep, I pulled Zoe out of her car seat and held her as close to me as possible.

Author's Note

Become a fan of The Stretch Mark Club on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Stretch-Mark-Club/224444674290950

I really appreciate your thoughts. They keep me writing.