The Stretch Mark Club

Chapter 4: If Breast is Best

When Zoe nurses, she grabs onto my shirt and wraps her little fingers around it like she’s holding on for dear life. I wrap my arms around her and hold onto that moment for dear life.

Shea

6 Weeks Old…

It’s usually around 3 a.m. that the begging starts. I’ll be with Zoe in her nursery and after hours of failed attempts to get her to go to sleep or to nurse or to do something productive, I’ll give into the tears and literally beg her, knowing full well she doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, to go to sleep. Just for a few hours. Mommy is exhausted.

I remember at the hospital when the nurse told me that mom should sleep when the baby sleeps. That woman was hilarious. If she had any children of her own, I’ll shave my head. Any mother knows, when the baby sleeps, mom runs around the house like she’s had way too much coffee (which she most likely has) trying to do everything else that doesn’t revolve around baby. It’s like having a timer except you never know when it will go off. You could luck out and finish cleaning the house or doing the dishes or responding to emails or paying bills, or it could go off halfway through shaving your armpit. You just never know.

What I do know is that at 3 a.m. I’d risk that timer for even an hour of sleep because the frustration of a killer headache, a screaming baby and the inability to get her to latch on to save my life is too much. There is nothing in pre-motherhood life to prepare a woman for this. Except maybe taking a sleeping pill and just as it’s kicking in, turning on a jackhammer for the next hour or two. But even then it doesn’t quite compare, because it doesn’t break your heart to hear the jackhammer pounding away.

I needed a break. So when Riley called me and invited me out for coffee, I told her I’d even put makeup on for the occasion.

That was a joke, of course.

We met at our usual place, just Riley and me and Alexis and Zoe.

“I think this is the first time I’ve gone out A.D. After Death-of-my-Social-Life,” I said.

“You’re not allowed to complain to me,” Riley said. “I worked a ten hour shift last night. I would give anything to be locked in the house all day with only Alexis to worry about and not how much bread table 15 has.”

“Is it awful?”

“It’s not ideal. But thank all-that-is-good for my mom. Don’t tell her I said that. Last night she offered to move in with me, and I’m just sleep-deprived and half-crazed enough to consider it.”

“Maybe you should. It doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me.”

"Shea, I barely made it out of her house alive. I sure as hell don’t want to go back. You're so lucky. You have Everett to take care of you so you can spend every minute with Zoe."

I couldn’t argue. I was lucky. I often stayed up too late wondering why. And when the other shoe would drop.

"I wish I had someone," Riley muttered and then, louder, "Ew. Did I just say that out loud?"

"Yes. And please stop right there before I have to put this baby down and smack you."

Riley snorted a laugh. "I know."

"The last thing you or Alexis needs right now is your ex-freeloader hanging around, bringing his strung out friends with him."

She sighed. "I know. Believe me, it's not Daryl I want--it's anyone with a bank account and biceps. Although, frankly, I'd settle for someone who would wash the dishes and do laundry."

"Honey, you're doing great," I said. "You're like a superhero."

Riley rolled her eyes. And then, without warning, she pulled down her shirt, unsnapped her bra and exposed her left breast for anyone in Starbucks to see. Instinctively, I gasped and covered my face.