Mirror into the Future

At seventeen years old, she took off and didn’t look back. That’s until she had her first baby, of course. Now, she paces her home as a SAHM to a brand new baby, just praying someone familiar will stop by. To notice her. To witness this version of her. To beam with pride over the bundle of joy she rocks fervently all hours of the day and night. To take some of the weight off her shoulders, and tell her she’s doing a kickass job. Today is no different.

She wakes to the sound of her three month old baby stirring next to her. Her baby sleeps close at night, one boob in his mouth for the duration of their shared sleep. She wouldn’t have it any different, though she’s tired, and of course he wouldn’t either. But sharing a bed with her beautiful infant means she doesn’t even have her sleep to herself. Not her showers, her meals, time to cook or clean, and certainly not a moment to just be the way she was able to before. This is the life she chose for herself and wakes up to choose every single day, with a whole lot of gratitude in her heart, but also a growing pang of disconnect from the world beyond this house.

When she realizes it’s only six thirty in the morning, she loads her baby into his carseat after a change and feed. He’s happy in the car, and she’s got thirty minutes before the local coffee shop and grocery store are open. After she ensures her baby is secure in the backseat, she takes her spot in the driver’s seat, rolls down the windows and selects a playlist for the day. It’s a playlist she made when her grandma was diagnosed with terminal cancer a couple years earlier, and it’s equal parts nostalgia and grief. She feels right at home while she drives, thinking of her late grandmother and how quickly this life seems to be going these days. She’s gotta figure out how to be more present. These days with a small baby, no matter how exhausting, are disappearing quicker than she can seem to process. If only she could turn back the clock somehow.

Pulling up in front of the local coffee shop the exact minute they open, she feels she should wait at least one minute before exiting the car. She tells herself she doesn’t want to look too desperate, but she is this morning. If she could get a coffee IV on a day like today, she would, but she settles for her usual today. Coffee in hand, she hauls the baby, still in his infant carseat, back out to the car. The carseat makes a clicking sound as she swings it using her hip and knee, refusing to set down her cup of coffee.

Their next stop, Walmart, is mostly for time out of the house, but she’s also got a small list that includes milk, toilet paper, and butter. With her infant now strapped to her chest in a carrier, she walks the aisles pushing a cart. She grabs the few items she’s there for, and to make the trip more fun, she starts grabbing things that catch her eye and might invite some more happiness into the mundane–glitter and sequins for future art projects with the baby, beef jerky, and a new coffee creamer. She leaves the store feeling more awake and lighter, but the same playlist is playing when they get back in the car. She’s brought back down rapidly, thinking about all the ways she’s failed her baby since conception. Mom guilt is a beast and it wants to strangle you sometimes. Her grandma would know what to say to alleviate all these feelings, if she was here.

Upon returning to the mundane, the baby is finally ready for a nap. She sits in the rocking chair, memorizing the details of his face. Or willing herself to, anyways. She can never quite tell if she’s doing that right, or enough, or with enough presence to really take it in. Is she in her body? Or did she leave at some point this morning, maybe while she was driving? While she’s rocking her baby, she realizes she’s in her body enough to remember she forgot the one thing she really needs for today. It’s hard to make homemade mac and cheese the way her grandma taught her without milk. “After the baby wakes,” she tells herself, “but for now, I’m going to let the dissociation win and scroll TikTok for as long as he’ll sleep.”

As she pulls into the parking lot of the nearby Fareway, she unbuckles her sweet baby and takes him into her arms, saying “This will just be a quick in and out, buddy. Just a gallon of milk.” She couldn’t have known or predicted what was in store for them inside.

Holding her baby on the left side of her body, sure to support his still wobbly head while she carries him world facing, she makes a bee line for the back of the store to the coolers. There is a woman in the cooler she needs into, so she stands back waiting for her turn, when the woman’s husband asks how old the baby is. “Ten weeks old,” she exclaims with a smile. The elderly man, riding a scooter, asks if her baby is a boy or a girl and as she answers, the woman comes out of the cooler and the man begins to cry.

“I would’ve given my wife as many as she wanted, if that’s what God had in store for us but it wasn’t. We tried and tried to get pregnant, but it just wasn’t happening. We wanted children to raise badly, so we adopted our three oldest boys. By the time the third boy was home with us, my wife told me she was pregnant. Kids are just so special, aren’t they,” he asked. They man went on to ask the young mother if she was nursing and upon affirming, the wife chimed in, saying “That’s just so wonderful–some of the best moments of my life. I held my boy so close to me every time, just hoping he always knew how much I loved him and our time together. I wish I could have nursed all of my boys.”

The elderly man continued to cry as they stood there talking and the young girl’s baby seemed to revel in the attention, providing coos and giggles. The couple spoke about how alert the baby was, saying they could tell that came from the girl’s careful and unconditional care of the infant. “You can just tell he is so loved by you and loves you very much.” She didn’t have much to say to the couple, but she stood there listening, fully aware she was immersed in a moment that surely would become a significant core memory for her.

Standing behind her cart now, the elderly woman seemed to be discretely nodding to being ready to part ways. Perhaps because she felt they were burdening the girl with their questions, tears, and years gone. Or maybe the sight of a young mother, much like the one she’d been some sixty years earlier, was too much to bear. Regardless, the elderly man took the opportunity to offer up some final words to the young mother, saying “Hold him dearly and for as long as you can. These years will fly by and you won’t be able to grab hold long. Take care of him… and of yourself.” She thanked them both for their words and wished them a good day. They headed for the other side of the store and the girl was sure to grab the milk this time before heading to check out.

When she felt the sun on her face and the cool breeze across her skin, it was like she could breathe again. That moment in there, with that couple, all came toppling down on her. How heavy it all was. Her, a young woman at what’s, really, still the beginning of her life, standing in front of a couple who’s only got what’s left of the memories of a life almost gone.

After strapping her baby safely in his seat and throwing the milk on the passenger seat, she sat in her car and weeped for a few minutes. She’ll be right where that elderly couple is someday, and she knows it’ll come quicker than she can fathom. She knows she’ll want nothing more than to experience a single minute holding her ten week old again when she’s to that stage of life, even if that minute was a minute of him scream crying. She knows she’ll be one of the lucky ones if she makes it to that age, with the love of her life still beside her. And, most of all, she knows now how lucky she is to be here, now, and how important it is for her to be as present as she can be, no matter how painful consciousness is sometimes.

Life is fleeting. We all die. Nothing belongs to you but these, here, experiences. Wake up. Choose to live and love with ferocity. Everything is temporary–the good, the bad, and every single second in between.