Authors: Ariella Papa
Momfriends (37 page)
David and I had spent a night talking about all the things between us. For now, I was going to keep my studio and Sage and Julissa would continue to share a room. As far as Sage, David was concerned and I had to respect that and admit that I was too. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to stifle him, but I also didn’t want him to suffer.
We called our pediatrician and told her the whole story. When she didn’t seem worried I felt intensely relieved.
“Remember, you are the parent, so you are in control. But why don’t you turn it around and give him a choice between two boyish or gender-neutral outfits every day? If he won’t choose and he really insists on the pink and sequins, it’s still not a big deal. Most boys do grow out of this. And if he doesn’t, well, wouldn’t you rather be supportive then stifling? Remember, he is sandwiched between two girls, so he probably wants to fit in. I think his big sister is a huge influence on him and all of this is to be expected.”
That put David at ease. We both agreed to relax about it and to keep checking in with each other about how we felt. Neither of us were going to make the other feel bad about how they wanted to deal with it. It was the one thing we hadn’t agreed on as parents. The first thing, but it probably wasn’t going to be the last. And as long as we felt that Sage wasn’t bothered by anyone’s attention—and so far he hadn’t been—we were going to try not to let it bother us.
And looking at Sage now, I saw he was happy. Maybe if we relaxed with him some of the anxiety and sensitivity that concerned me would lesson and he could be just be happy in his own skin.
As our guests clapped, making me feel more love that I knew was possible, David leaned into my good ear and whispered, “I love you.”
We were still Mom and Dad, man and woman. Now we were more. We were husband and wife. We had had a beautiful past, but there was more, so much more I believed to come in our future. And that really was superduper.
Chapter 20
Ruth Understands All Good Things Must End, Including Maternity Leave (and Books)
Really, all it takes is one good day. So far I am having one. And even though it is Monday and I am tired from the weekend’s festivities, I had my coffee in hand and I know that Abe and Suze were only a phone call away
I feel good. I am spit-up-free. I got out of the house without incident. I decided at some point last week after having to do last-minute changes twice that the best thing to do was make my shirt the last thing I put on. This didn’t protect my lower half from projectile puking, but it certainly puts the odds in my favor.
As a producer, I have to be organized. But now I am überorganized. I lay out not one, but two outfits every night. Once at work, I manage to pump while answering my emails three times a day (with my office door not locked but barricaded). I think Claudia has inspired me to get shit done. And I do.
And Abe is happy too. He is sleeping better, sleeping through the night from eight to seven. At least he has done that for four straight nights, and Kirsten says that once something happens three days in a row, it’s a habit. He lights up when he sees me come home, and Suze distracts him when I leave. I think I feared that he wouldn’t realize I was his mother, but the nursing thing really puts my mind at ease in a lot of ways. And I love that time with him now; I can’t believe it was ever so hard. Now the boob seems to solve everything, for both of us.
I actually believe he loves me. He coos so contentedly sometimes when he is on the breast that I think that has to be love. I never would have thought any of this got easier, but then suddenly somehow it does.
And the best part is, he is laughing. I don’t even have to work for it. I make a silly face or dance around the kitchen with the dishrag and it’s like the best thing he’s ever seen. It is. For real (because he hasn’t seen much). I like feeling funny again. I know it’s kind of cheating, but I am a sucker for an audience.
And once again, it was true what they say—the first day back was the hardest. I cried on the subway. I felt a little self-conscious, but it’s New York City so no one said anything. Except one older woman, who winked when we got off at the same stop. “Don’t worry, honey, it’s going to get better.”
And it did.
Now the days at work fly by. And coincidentally, our ratings are up since I got back and everyone I work with keeps saying it’s because I am back. I know I’m doing a fluffy show about real estate that nobody can really afford anymore, but I’m doing it well. I can still function.
Sometimes it amazes me how fast the days go by at work. It’s a completely different track than being at home. So it’s refreshing when I get to be back at home with Abe on Fridays and get back into his schedule. The moments with him seem more peaceful, somehow even when they aren’t.
I feel like myself, I feel back to normal. It’s not about the way I look—though at least, I no longer think I look pregnant—it’s the way I feel on the inside. I feel capable. Back at my job, it’s almost easy. I perform the tasks at hand and see results. Everyone talks about mom brain making women dumb, but I think motherhood makes it way easier to multitask. I feel smarter.
And I’m trying to remember that I’m still woman. Mom doesn’t have to be my total identity, just a part of it I really am beginning to enjoy. I’m still breast-feeding, but Abe isn’t on me so much. He is becoming his own person, so I have some personal space. Also I bought a bunch of sexy nursing bras. I thought it was an oxymoron, but I found some good ones. I don’t think I bought them for Steve to see. I bought them for me, to tell my girls that even though they’ve been working hard breast-feeding, I still know what they are all about. I respected that they had their function, but maybe someday they could go back to being fun and feminine and all for me.
Another good thing is that I got back in touch with my best friend, Liz. I feel I’ve lived a lifetime since I hung out with her. It was selfish to pretend that everything going on with me took precedence. I know she had no idea what it was like for me being a new mom, but maybe I needed to try and remember what it was like for her to have lost her best friend.
So Steve and I decided it would be a good idea for everyone if I went up to Boston for the night in a few months. I never used to plan things so far in advance but now I have to. It’s going to be great. I will get to have a girls’ night out with Liz and catch up and have some much-needed alone time, too. Also I think Steve will be happy to have Abe all to himself.
I continue to spend a lot of time with Claudia and Kirsten. I think they are still fighting for my soul, but they both seem to agree lately more than they disagree. As different as they are, they seem to both be moving closer to each other from their opposite extremes. Claudia seems to be caring about things less, and Kirsten seems to caring about things more. In a good way. I really like both of them. And I never expected to. For as long as I lived in New York, I couldn’t make any friends and then I had a baby and suddenly I got two good ones. It was an honor to be invited to Kirsten’s wedding. She asked me to do her makeup, which I did, but she didn’t really need any. She was beaming throughout the whole thing. There was a new confidence about her. She seemed more in control of herself and her life. She seemed to own it.
But the best thing for me about Kirsten’s wedding was the way Steve, Abe and I went and had a great time all together. I forget sometimes that we are now a unit. I guess I think in terms of Abe and me or Steve and me. And being out together as a family was something new. We had a good time. I was nervous that Abe was going to start crying during the ceremony, but when Naomi cried and everyone laughed, I realized that even if he had it wouldn’t have been a big deal. Babies were going to cry, and that was the definition of babies. Mine was just like everyone else’s.
After the wedding, Steve and I were a little tipsy. We tried to get a car home but there was an hour wait at every company we called. We decided to wing it. We went outside and held our hands up to passing yellow cabs, but no one stopped for us. Abe was sleeping in the baby carrier on Steve’s chest. It was a nice night and we decided to walk. I was glad that we hadn’t taken the stroller, because we walked hand in hand through Brooklyn, as if we were newly dating.
It was a long walk from Dumbo to Prospect Heights, but when we got home, I still had butterflies in my stomach. Maybe it was all the sweet romance of Kirsten and David’s wedding. Or maybe it was us. Maybe it was the idea that we had become a family.
“I’ll try to put him down,” Steve said. And I nodded. I didn’t offer any suggestions or warnings. I let him go do it and hoped for the best. I held my breath a little. And when he came out, empty-handed, I almost clapped.
I was sitting on the couch and he came and sat next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder and he took my hand. We sat that way for a while enjoying the quiet and the buzz we both had.
And then we saw Tiny Mouse. Our cat darted across the living room, making a break for our room to settle under our bed. It was the first time I’d seen him in months.
“Wow,” Steve said. “Do you think Tiny Mouse has finally kind of accepted it?”
“I hope so,” I said. “I have.”
Steve squeezed my hand. I thought about all we had been through and how we couldn’t possibly know all that lay ahead. And I knew that though all these things are so meaningful and weighty to us now, one day we would barely remember them. One day, Abe would be big and we would yearn for these uncertain times when we could hold him and try to make it all ok, even If we didn’t know how.
I am aware of how fast time is passing. I finally understand all those women who wrote, “enjoy every minute” on cards at my baby shower. Any minute Abe was going to be six months and then he would be sixteen.
So I resolved to try and stop looking forward. I know that is impossible, but I want to try to enjoy it all. I want to be present in each day. I want to give myself a break for all the mistakes I am going to make.
Home alone in our apartment, there seemed only one way to do this, to start right away, by seizing the moment. I straddled Steve.
“Hey there,” he said, giving me a perfect drunken kiss.
“This time is going to be different,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, how?”
“I want to go slow. I don’t want to rush.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said. He put his hands on my hips, and I felt as if I was back in the saddle again. So I gave a little cowgirl cheer and he laughed. Then he pulled out the condom that he always kept on him just in case. He set it aside, so it would be ready when we needed it, but this time we were going to take our time.
And everything was slow and sweet and weird and new and familiar and perfect. And the son we made slept through until morning.
I didn’t always think this was possible, but now I know that it is. One day follows the next and I will celebrate each one and try not to wish for anymore than I have.
I think I can do that.
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