I brushed off every cruel comment and convinced myself not to take it personally. Looking back, I should’ve known there would come a day when I’d finally reached my limit.
Five a.m. glowed blue on the nursery clock, and Onica was finally quiet against my shoulder. I rocked in the same worn chair where I’d fed Bradley three years earlier. My phone’s alarm would tell me to start pumping before my shower.
A little voice floated in from the hallway.
“Mama? Is it morning-morning or nighttime-morning?”
“It’s shhh-morning, buddy,” I whispered back. “Go crawl in with Daddy. I’ll come get you soon.”
I rocked in the same worn chair.
“Daddy’s snoring.”
“I know, sweetheart. He’s very good at it.”
I heard tiny footsteps pad away, then a thump, then silence. I closed my eyes for exactly four seconds before Onica hiccupped awake.
***
By 7 a.m., I was in the kitchen, pumping under my blazer while stirring oatmeal with my free hand. My laptop was open on the counter, a marketing deck already loading for my 9 a.m. meeting.
“He’s very good at it.”
***
I’d gone back to work weeks after having Onica because my husband, Carl, got laid off during the company’s “downsizing.”
***
My husband shuffled in, his hair sticking out sideways, phone in his palm.
“Coffee ready?”
“You’ll have to make it,” I said.
“Rough one?”
“She was up at two, four, and five.”
“You’ll have to make it.”
Carl grunted, scrolled through something on his screen, and tilted it away when I glanced over.
Sports highlights, probably. Or the job board.
I decided to believe it was the latter because believing anything else was too much work.
“Alice dropped by yesterday,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “She brought chicken casserole, and said I looked exhausted. But she said it nicely, you know? Like she meant it.”
I decided to believe it was the latter.
“Yeah, Alice is good like that.”
“Steve got lucky.”
“Mm.” My husband kept scrolling.
***
I glanced at the hallway mirror on my way to grab Bradley’s shoes. Stained hoodie. Ponytail from yesterday.
There used to be a woman who wore heels to Friday dinners and put on lipstick just to take out the trash. She was in there somewhere, probably napping.
“Steve got lucky.”
***
I dropped the kids off at daycare, made it to my meeting with 30 seconds to spare, and told myself the same thing I’d been telling myself for weeks.
I’d carried Carl through his rough patch. Now it was my turn to lean on him for a bit. That’s how marriages work.
***
That night, I collapsed onto the couch next to my husband after finally getting both kids down. He was watching something.
That’s how marriages work.
“Long day,” I said.
“Yeah, mine too. Job stuff,” Carl responded.
“How’d it go?”
“Slow,” he replied. “Hey, babe. Not to be a jerk, but once things settle down, maybe you should really think about going to the gym. You’ve gained a lot of weight lately.”
I turned my head. “Sorry?”
“I just mean, Alice makes it look so easy. The classes and everything. Might be good for you.”
“How’d it go?”
Alice was Carl’s new sister-in-law (SIL) and his brother Steven’s wife.
I actually laughed because if I didn’t, I was going to cry into a throw pillow that still smelled of spit-up.
***
I was overwhelmed by work, exhaustion, caring for a baby and our three-year-old, and the constant chaos of having two young children. There was always cleaning or cooking to do.
I actually laughed.
With my crazy schedule, I’d stopped taking care of myself.
I’d forgotten what going to the gym was like. I’d forgotten what it was like to wear makeup, heels, or dresses.
There simply wasn’t time for any of it.
***
“Carl, I haven’t peed alone in three years.”
“I’m just saying.”
“I know. It’s fine.”
I let it go because I was sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I was sure of a lot of things back then.
“I’m just saying.”
***
The next few weeks blurred together.
I pumped in the parking lot before meetings, warmed up leftovers with one hand while bouncing Onica in the other, and answered Bradley’s 50 questions about dinosaurs before I’d even taken off my shoes.
Carl, meanwhile, developed a very consistent routine. That routine was the couch.
***
“Did you send out any applications today?” I asked one evening, stepping over a pile of laundry.
“I’m networking,” my husband said without looking up from his phone.
I pumped in the parking lot.
“With whom?”
“People. It’s not something you’d understand, Nina.”
I let it go as I always did.
***
The Alice comments started small, then multiplied like rabbits. At breakfast, over coffee, in the middle of me changing a diaper.
“You should see Alice’s dance class videos,” Carl said one morning. “She dances beautifully, has an athletic body, and wears short skirts! And you?”
“It’s not something you’d understand.”
“That’s great for her,” I muttered, wiping applesauce off Bradley’s chin.
“You used to have that kind of energy.”
I stopped wiping. My son stared at me with big eyes, applesauce still on his eyebrow.
“Carl, I had a baby recently.”
“I’m just saying. Alice still finds time for her dance classes.”
I stopped wiping.
“Alice is 28 and doesn’t have a newborn strapped to her chest.”
