Cola 3: Tired
Title: Tired
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Cola 3 (maybe she's born with it), My Treat (Melanie isn't assimilating motherhood yet), fresh peaches ( Have you recently lost some faith in the future, Cancer?...You could find the answers to these questions if you'd take a second look at the quality of your close relationships.), fresh blueberries (I have to say, I think that we are in some kind of final examination as to whether human beings now, with this capability to acquire information and to communicate, whether we're really qualified to take on the responsibility we're designed to be entrusted with.).
Word Count: 1168
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aaron won't stop crying, and Melanie is so tired.
WARNING: Depressive thoughts and behavior, implications of postpartum depression and all that entails.
Aaron wouldn't stop crying.
He lay on his back and kicked his pudgy legs, clenched his tiny fists and screamed until his face turned purple, tears rolling down his fat cheeks. Melanie sat across the room and stared dully at him. She should go to him, pick him up and try to comfort him, but she didn't have one single particle of energy left.
He'd been doing this, on and off, since four AM. He'd stopped for a whole hour around ten, then started up again-- she'd wanted to cry herself. She'd taken him to the doctor, terrified that the baby was dying, and gotten only vague reassurances and the advice to just let him cry it out. He wasn't sick, at least. She had that reassurance.
She'd tried everything. The car ride to and from the doctor's hadn't hushed him at all-- if anything, it only made him scream louder, so her mother's trick of strapping them in the car seat and taking off was out. His diaper was clean; she'd checked it five times. He ignored breast and bottle alike. Rattles and toys he only picked up and threw out of his crib, screaming all the while. He was lying on his blankie, scrunching it in his fists and occasionally sticking it in his mouth, so it wasn't that. She'd even tried holding him for a solid hour, and all that had gotten her was a splitting headache from the noise.
He was healthy. He was dry. He was fed and comfortable and safe. Why wouldn't he stop screaming?
Melanie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, hating the gritty feeling. She needed more sleep. She needed to do the laundry. She needed to run errands, go grocery shopping and mail Nathan some clothes he'd forgotten and the other tasks on her rapidly growing to-do list. And still Aaron cried, high, thin wails that made her just want to scream and shake him, shut up shut up shut up.
Not that she ever would. She'd heard all about shaken baby syndrome. She'd heard about everything, absorbed all the well-meaning things everyone told her during her pregnancy. "Do this or your child will fail in life." "Don't do this or you'll damage the kid forever." "Do this or you don't love your baby." "Don't do this or you'll be a horrible mother." It ran through her head constantly, a litany of failure.
She needed to get out of here.
Maybe Connie would babysit.
Yeah. Connie. Connie had kids. Connie was good at this mom thing. Connie would help.
But when Connie picked up the phone, a harassed sort of happiness in her voice, Melanie knew what the answer would be.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mel," she said. "I can't. The rugrats are being pretty rough today. I don't think it would be a good idea to have Aaron around them. You know how kids are; they just don't understand that babies are delicate."
Melanie closed her eyes, and tried. "I have to go run errands," she said, as patiently as she could. "Please, Connie, it'll only be for a couple of hours."
"I'd love to, but I really can't." There was no regret in Connie's voice. "Why don't you take Aaron with you? He'll enjoy the outing."
He was six weeks old. He didn't enjoy anything yet. "I can't. He won't stop screaming."
"Oh, don't worry about it," Connie said, gaily. "He'll stop in a minute. Sometimes you just have to let them cry these things out. I remember when Todd was a baby he'd scream for hours on end!"
Melanie tuned out the endless stream of story that followed, all about Todd and Elizabeth, Connie's perfect little kids and how they'd gone through every perfect little problem and . She couldn't handle paying attention and it wasn't like Connie needed any interjections except for the occasional "uh-huh."
In the background, Aaron muffled himself in his blanket again.
"There, see?" Connie asked, interrupting herself triumphantly. "I told you he'd stop crying."
Aaron's face was still red and mottled under the blanket, and Melanie sighed, suddenly so tired she could hardly hold her head up. "He's still crying," she said. "He just stuck his blanket in his mouth."
"Mel!" Horror filled Connie's voice. "I can't believe you! Get it out of his mouth right now! He could smother! God, do you want to kill your kid?"
"No," Melanie answered, dutifully. "No, I don't. I'll get it. Goodbye, Connie." She hung up on Connie's continuing protests, and crossed the room, bending mechanically to pull Aaron's blanket away from his mouth.
He screamed even louder when she did, reaching for the soaked corner that she held away from him. She pulled the blanket out from under him, lifting him carefully, and put it on the table outside his crib. Thwarted, Aaron left off the shrill wailing and began to cry in nasal, gulping sobs instead.
Melanie turned away, walked out of his room, shut the door, and collapsed against it, hiding her face in her hands.
Just take him with you, Connie had said. Did Connie have any idea how people looked at you? She did. She could just see it-- standing in the grocery store, trying to pick just the right kind of diapers and food for the baby, while he screamed himself red in his carrier. People would sneer at her-- look at that bitch, just ignoring that poor baby, you think she'd pay attention -- or roll their eyes, wondering why she make him stop. Some might even confront her, demand that she take the baby outside.
No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't face anyone right now, not with Aaron screaming and screaming. She couldn't.
And Connie didn't understand, and her mother talked to her like it was all so simple and what was she that she didn't just get it, stupid, and Nathan hadn't called today even though he'd promised that he would and she'd never wanted this for herself, so what the hell was she doing here? She wasn't any good at this. She wasn't any kind of a mother. Why was she even pretending?
You can't think like that, her mother or Connie would say, sternly. Of course you're a good mother. You just have to grow into it. Give it time.
Time. Yes. Time. Time for Aaron to stop crying. Time for her to get used to him. It wasn't like she'd expected this to all be a bed of roses. She just needed time, to learn to see the good in this. She'd stop feeling like this eventually, get to sleep again. She had to, or everything would come smashing down.
Time. That was all she needed.
So why did it feel like she had no time left at all?
Behind her, in the room, Aaron screamed furiously, and Melanie put her face in her hands.
He just wouldn't stop crying, and she... she was too tired even to weep.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Cola 3 (maybe she's born with it), My Treat (Melanie isn't assimilating motherhood yet), fresh peaches ( Have you recently lost some faith in the future, Cancer?...You could find the answers to these questions if you'd take a second look at the quality of your close relationships.), fresh blueberries (I have to say, I think that we are in some kind of final examination as to whether human beings now, with this capability to acquire information and to communicate, whether we're really qualified to take on the responsibility we're designed to be entrusted with.).
Word Count: 1168
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aaron won't stop crying, and Melanie is so tired.
WARNING: Depressive thoughts and behavior, implications of postpartum depression and all that entails.
Aaron wouldn't stop crying.
He lay on his back and kicked his pudgy legs, clenched his tiny fists and screamed until his face turned purple, tears rolling down his fat cheeks. Melanie sat across the room and stared dully at him. She should go to him, pick him up and try to comfort him, but she didn't have one single particle of energy left.
He'd been doing this, on and off, since four AM. He'd stopped for a whole hour around ten, then started up again-- she'd wanted to cry herself. She'd taken him to the doctor, terrified that the baby was dying, and gotten only vague reassurances and the advice to just let him cry it out. He wasn't sick, at least. She had that reassurance.
She'd tried everything. The car ride to and from the doctor's hadn't hushed him at all-- if anything, it only made him scream louder, so her mother's trick of strapping them in the car seat and taking off was out. His diaper was clean; she'd checked it five times. He ignored breast and bottle alike. Rattles and toys he only picked up and threw out of his crib, screaming all the while. He was lying on his blankie, scrunching it in his fists and occasionally sticking it in his mouth, so it wasn't that. She'd even tried holding him for a solid hour, and all that had gotten her was a splitting headache from the noise.
He was healthy. He was dry. He was fed and comfortable and safe. Why wouldn't he stop screaming?
Melanie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, hating the gritty feeling. She needed more sleep. She needed to do the laundry. She needed to run errands, go grocery shopping and mail Nathan some clothes he'd forgotten and the other tasks on her rapidly growing to-do list. And still Aaron cried, high, thin wails that made her just want to scream and shake him, shut up shut up shut up.
Not that she ever would. She'd heard all about shaken baby syndrome. She'd heard about everything, absorbed all the well-meaning things everyone told her during her pregnancy. "Do this or your child will fail in life." "Don't do this or you'll damage the kid forever." "Do this or you don't love your baby." "Don't do this or you'll be a horrible mother." It ran through her head constantly, a litany of failure.
She needed to get out of here.
Maybe Connie would babysit.
Yeah. Connie. Connie had kids. Connie was good at this mom thing. Connie would help.
But when Connie picked up the phone, a harassed sort of happiness in her voice, Melanie knew what the answer would be.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mel," she said. "I can't. The rugrats are being pretty rough today. I don't think it would be a good idea to have Aaron around them. You know how kids are; they just don't understand that babies are delicate."
Melanie closed her eyes, and tried. "I have to go run errands," she said, as patiently as she could. "Please, Connie, it'll only be for a couple of hours."
"I'd love to, but I really can't." There was no regret in Connie's voice. "Why don't you take Aaron with you? He'll enjoy the outing."
He was six weeks old. He didn't enjoy anything yet. "I can't. He won't stop screaming."
"Oh, don't worry about it," Connie said, gaily. "He'll stop in a minute. Sometimes you just have to let them cry these things out. I remember when Todd was a baby he'd scream for hours on end!"
Melanie tuned out the endless stream of story that followed, all about Todd and Elizabeth, Connie's perfect little kids and how they'd gone through every perfect little problem and . She couldn't handle paying attention and it wasn't like Connie needed any interjections except for the occasional "uh-huh."
In the background, Aaron muffled himself in his blanket again.
"There, see?" Connie asked, interrupting herself triumphantly. "I told you he'd stop crying."
Aaron's face was still red and mottled under the blanket, and Melanie sighed, suddenly so tired she could hardly hold her head up. "He's still crying," she said. "He just stuck his blanket in his mouth."
"Mel!" Horror filled Connie's voice. "I can't believe you! Get it out of his mouth right now! He could smother! God, do you want to kill your kid?"
"No," Melanie answered, dutifully. "No, I don't. I'll get it. Goodbye, Connie." She hung up on Connie's continuing protests, and crossed the room, bending mechanically to pull Aaron's blanket away from his mouth.
He screamed even louder when she did, reaching for the soaked corner that she held away from him. She pulled the blanket out from under him, lifting him carefully, and put it on the table outside his crib. Thwarted, Aaron left off the shrill wailing and began to cry in nasal, gulping sobs instead.
Melanie turned away, walked out of his room, shut the door, and collapsed against it, hiding her face in her hands.
Just take him with you, Connie had said. Did Connie have any idea how people looked at you? She did. She could just see it-- standing in the grocery store, trying to pick just the right kind of diapers and food for the baby, while he screamed himself red in his carrier. People would sneer at her-- look at that bitch, just ignoring that poor baby, you think she'd pay attention -- or roll their eyes, wondering why she make him stop. Some might even confront her, demand that she take the baby outside.
No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't face anyone right now, not with Aaron screaming and screaming. She couldn't.
And Connie didn't understand, and her mother talked to her like it was all so simple and what was she that she didn't just get it, stupid, and Nathan hadn't called today even though he'd promised that he would and she'd never wanted this for herself, so what the hell was she doing here? She wasn't any good at this. She wasn't any kind of a mother. Why was she even pretending?
You can't think like that, her mother or Connie would say, sternly. Of course you're a good mother. You just have to grow into it. Give it time.
Time. Yes. Time. Time for Aaron to stop crying. Time for her to get used to him. It wasn't like she'd expected this to all be a bed of roses. She just needed time, to learn to see the good in this. She'd stop feeling like this eventually, get to sleep again. She had to, or everything would come smashing down.
Time. That was all she needed.
So why did it feel like she had no time left at all?
Behind her, in the room, Aaron screamed furiously, and Melanie put her face in her hands.
He just wouldn't stop crying, and she... she was too tired even to weep.