One Pink Line (23 page)

Sydney

T
he C-Section bought me five days of hospital stay, where all I had to do was push a button to call the nurse and she’d come in and change Grace’s diaper. My dad came that first afternoon, after I’d woken up from a nap, and brought a dozen pink roses with him.

“She’s a looker, Syd, just like her mom.”

“Thanks, Dad, sorry about turning you into a grandpa at the ripe old age of fifty-two.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

I handed Grace over to him and he held her tightly wrapped in her blanket and cotton hospital cap. My father hardly had any grey hair and didn’t look like anybody’s grandfather, so it was easy for me to picture my own infant self in his arms twenty-two years before.

“How’s she behaving so far?” he asked.

“Hasn’t sassed me once.”

“Just you wait.”

My mom walked in with a tray of brownies and an enormous fruit bouquet. “More deliveries for little Gracie!”

I grabbed a brownie as she held the tray in front of me. “I mean, this is just rude, don’t people realize that I’m now in weight loss mode? Who had the decent sense to send the fruit?”

My mom gave me a funny smile. “It’s from Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds,” she said. “And I also wanted to tell you that I spoke with her, Caroline Reynolds, last night. She called the house to see how you and Grace were doing. Wasn’t that lovely of her?” Mom asked my father and I. “She wanted me to give you a kiss, and let you know that she sends her prayers and well wishes. I must say, Sydney, she was very kind in her concern for you.”

I looked at the fruit and felt shame. Ethan’s mom was a wonderful, smart, sophisticated woman who knew the importance of die-cut fruit, and probably breathed a huge sigh of relief when she found out I wasn’t carrying Ethan’s baby. “That was very nice of her,” I said to my mom.

Mom sat on the edge of my bed as my father walked into the hallway with Grace still cradled in his arms. “We’re going for a stroll,” he said over his shoulder and adjusted her cap.

Mom turned to me with a serious expression. “Honey, she also told me that Ethan is coming in to see you.”

“Why?!”

“Because he cares about you, and wants to meet your daughter I assume,” she said as if I should’ve known.

“Oh, I’m sure Mrs. Reynolds is thrilled about that.”

“She didn’t seem to be bothered, if that’s what you mean.”

I wriggled myself up, higher against the pillows. “I’m not ready to see him. He’s going to look at me weird and I just don’t know if I can handle it.”

“Look at you weird? What does that mean?”

“I mean, he’s going to take pity on me, or wish things were back to how they used to be, or, I don’t know…wish I didn’t have a baby. He’s the last person I want to visit us right now,” I told my mom, but I was lying. I did want to see him, in fact I’d thought of him so much over those few days in the hospital, I almost cried when I called home for my messages and heard his voice.

Congrats Sydney, hope you’re feeling well. You are going to be the most amazing mother a girl could ask for. I can’t wait to meet her.

I called my machine over and over before calling him back. I’d tried him on his office phone the next day, but reached his voicemail.

Hi Ethan, I got your message last night, still in the hospital; we’re both doing well. Thanks so much for checking in.

It was short and simple, but what I’d wanted to say was:

I wish this was our daughter, and I wish you were here with me gazing at her puffy lips and tiny hands for hours on end. I wish it were you pacing the floor with this little pink bundle, and fielding phone calls from adoring friends and relatives. I wish you were sleeping in the room with me on the horrid, cramped daybed they have reserved for new dads… ideally ones who are less than five feet tall. And I wish that I didn’t have to go this alone, and I miss you so much it gives me a stomachache when someone mentions your name. And I love you.

Mom leaned over and grabbed a daisy shaped pineapple slice. “He’s not going to pity you. Don’t act like you don’t know how much he still cares about you. It would be very cruel for you to ask him not to come. You’ve kept him at bay long enough and I won’t stand for it,” she demanded.

“You’re sounding like a grandmother.”

“I am a grandmother.”

“He can come,” I relented.

“You should call him. Kendra said he tried to reach you all day yesterday, even called her at home,” she informed me.

“I left him a message at the office, but I will try again.”

“Why don’t you try again now?”

“Why don’t you chase down my daughter from her easily distracted grandfather and maybe I can have a moment to myself,” I made a fake smile.

My mom lifted the phone off the side table, placed it on the mattress next to me, gave me a kiss on the head and left the room.

Ethan answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Hi, E,” my voice cracked, and I pulled the thin, knit blanket over my still bloated belly.

“Hey, Momma,” he said. “So how does it feel to be a parent?”

“At the moment, not too bad. I can finally breathe. That little monkey had been crushing my lungs for the past few weeks in a bad way,” I told him.

“You can punish her, you know.”

“I was going to, but she’s pretty darn cute.”

We had a few seconds of silence before Ethan spoke again. “Well, I hope it’s okay with you, but I’m coming in sometime in the next two weeks, and I’d like permission to see you, and meet Grace.”

I closed my eyes and smiled. “Permission granted. How did you know her name?”

“My mom talked to your mom yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, and she sent the most gorgeous fruit bouquet, each in their own geometric shape,” I told him and we chuckled, like two people do when discussing one’s mother. “How are things with you?” I asked, and had only one agenda with my questioning.

“Things are pretty good.”

“How are things with Robin?” I couldn’t resist; it just came out. I’d been thinking about her almost as much as I’d been thinking about Ethan, and I was desperate to hear that she’d fallen off a moving train, or moved to Hong Kong.

He laughed quietly through his nose. “She’s fine.”

My mood took a left hook to the jaw. I swallowed hard.

“You just worry about yourself and Gracie, alright?” he said.

“Alright,” I said and closed my eyes. “Guess we’ll see you soon then. I’ll try and save some kiwi-shaped stars for you.”

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to meet Grace and see you. Is there anything I can bring?”

“No, thank you. I can’t wait to see you either.”

“Okay, girly, talk to you later. Call me if you feel like chatting about breastfeeding, okay?” he laughed.

I mustered a smile. “Goodbye.”

“Bye, Syd.”

Grace’s new pediatrician entered the room later that afternoon for her first official check-up.

“Hi, Dr. Weinstein,” I greeted him.

“Congratulations,” he said routinely, and went straight to the plastic bin she lived in for those first few days in the hospital. “I always tell my new moms not to get used to these house calls,” he joked.

Dr. Weinstein examined Grace for about fifteen minutes, and then approached my bed. “She looks like a healthy young girl, that one. Any questions?”

I had about 1,200 questions, but he seemed in a hurry and had his bag zipped and coat buttoned before finishing his sentence.

I tried to come up with something pertinent to ask, and my mother was looking at me like, ‘make it a good one’, but I wasn’t prepared for him. “Does she need to sleep with her hat on?” I asked.

He looked at me like I was a complete moron. “What hat?”

“Her hospital cap.”

He glanced at my mother, then back at me. “Do you sleep with a hat on?”

I shook my head, no.

“Good day ladies,” he said and walked out.

When my parents drove Grace and I home from the hospital, my dad topped off at about fifteen miles per hour. We’d had the crib and changing table from Taylor’s mom delivered about two weeks prior so everything would be ready for Grace’s homecoming. My mom slept over the first night and after I burst into tears, as she was about to leave the following afternoon, she offered to stay four more nights. Kendra apologized for not being able to stay over, but it was too hard for her with work and I think she was secretly pleased with how well my mother and I were getting along.

My own motherly instincts definitely began to kick in, but I was still a rookie in every sense of the word and even a little scared of my own daughter. I watched my mother scoop her up and carry her around like a pro, yet every time I went to take Grace from her crib or bouncer, I did so with trepidation.

“You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry, she’s not going to break,” my mom would tell me.

“What if I scrape her face with my fingernail, or dislocate her shoulder by pulling her out too fast?”

“She’ll be just fine, Sydney, you need to relax so she doesn’t sense your tension,” Mom advised me as if I were training a puppy. “I wish we could get her outside for some fresh air, but it’s so darn cold.”

“Honestly, I’m fine being holed up here for the next year or so, I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

When almost a week had passed, my mom packed her bags and headed home with the promise that she would be back to visit in two days. She wanted me to have some alone time with my daughter.

That, and my dad was having a mental breakdown having to fend for himself.

Grace and I spent our time napping, cuddling, and napping.

Two days after my mom’s departure, Ethan called to let me know that he’d be in town over the weekend and he planned on spending as much time with me as possible. Since I’d been in the same outfit for nearly ten days (sweatpants, heather grey t-shirt and no bra) news of his arrival jolted me into the shower and sent me into a mad panic looking for my make-up bag, which I hadn’t seen since before Grace was born.

“It’s me,” Ethan yelled into the buzzer from the lobby of my building that Friday evening.

“Second floor, Apartment C,” I shouted back.

Waiting for him to reach my door seemed like forever. I paced my apartment twice, checked on Grace who was sleeping, poured myself a glass of wine and then finally heard him knocking.

When I opened the door he was standing there with a giant stuffed puppy, a bouquet of flowers and a box of Double-Stuff Oreos. I threw myself at him, his body still cold from being outside, and held on for dear life. He wrapped his fully occupied hands and arms around me and kissed the top of my head. He smelled like home.

“Wow, it’s so good to see you!” I pulled back and looked up at him. “Please, come in,” I said and nervously played with my hair.

Ethan walked around my apartment nodding and smiling. “Nice digs, Syd, not too bad,” he said, then turned to me. “These are for you, and this is for Grace, can I see her?”

“She’s asleep, but we can sneak in there and take a peek. And please, be as quiet as you’ve ever been in your entire life, trust me, you do not want to know the consequences of waking her before she’s ready.”

He crossed his heart and zipped his lips.

We tiptoed into my bedroom and spied on my little, sleeping angel. Her tiny mouth was open, but her eyes were shut and her body tightly swaddled.

“She’s…”

“Shhhhhh,” I threatened with my finger, and we gazed in silence for another minute or so before sneaking back to the couch.

“She’s beautiful, Syd.”

“You’re obligated to say that, but thank you, I agree entirely,” I said and curled my legs up onto the cushion.

“So how does it feel?”

I smiled and pondered his question. “It’s very surreal, just the mere fact that a human being came out of my stomach, let alone that this human being is now entirely dependent on me.” I shook my head in honest disbelief. “I’m head over heels in love with that girl; it’s really amazing,” I said.

“It is pretty wild, and you seem like a natural. I always thought you’d be a terrific mom.”

“Thanks,” I felt proud, and then a little sad.

There was a time when I’d write
Sydney Reynolds
on a piece of paper, practicing my signature as Ethan’s wife. I assumed we’d have kids one day, maybe two or three, and that we’d have a huge, elaborate wedding beforehand. But I went and changed the course of our future in one fell swoop. One drunken evening filled with passion, carelessness and Jagermeister. Yet, with Grace so sweet and flawless in the next room, it was hard to regret the choices I made that that night, and the consequences that everyone, including myself, were initially so fearful of.

“It must be weird for you to see me with a baby,” I said to him.

He nodded. “It’s pretty…surreal, like you said. But I’m very proud of you for doing this on your own, and for making a very brave decision.”

“I’m not exactly doing it on my own quite yet. In fact, if my parents weren’t supporting me for these first few months, I honestly don’t know what condition I’d be in. It wouldn’t be pretty.”