Perfectionist Rehab

Once upon a time, in a small rural town, in a modest brick house laced with ivy, a baby was crying. Annie jerked awake, bleary-eyed and frizzy-haired. She had fallen asleep in the nursery’s recliner, after breastfeeding her two-month-old son, Wren, for nine straight hours. The baby sank into a peaceful sleep, comforted by his mother and her steadfast attention. Wren was so relaxed his tiny mouth fell open, and he unlatched himself.

Wren’s nursing was thwarted by his snooze, so naturally, he was furious.

“No worries, baby boy. I’ve got you,” Annie yawned. She scootched herself into a more comfortable position, placed her feet on the top of the recliner’s footrest to support Wren. She scooped up her baby, switched his position to her opposite breast, and guided her nipple into his mouth. Wren jerked his head away and continued screaming in righteous indignation over the betrayal.

“Wren, your milk is right here. Let me help you,” Annie sighed. She focused on her breathing.

 In-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four.

Wren began to settle, following his mother’s example, and finally latched himself onto his mother.

“You’re such a good boy,” Annie whispered. She smoothed Wren’s fine black hair off his brow and lightly traced her pointer finger around the sides of his face, down the bridge of his nose, and back around again. Wren smiled around her and sighed contentedly. Annie marveled at her baby as he drifted off to sleep in the soft glow of a turtle nightlight.

She heard footsteps in the hallway, and the soft click of the door opening. The morning light beamed into the darkened nursery. Jerry silently crept into the room and gingerly closed the door.

“How are we doing this morning?”

Her husband tip-toed across the soft taupe carpet, and smoothed Annie’s unbound curls from her forehead.

“We’re good,” Annie whispered. “Little man had a rough night. I think he’s overstimulated from yesterday.”

Jerry ran his hand across his jaw, considering her words. They had spent the previous day galivanting in a small port city for the fist time since Wren was born. They had window-shopped for hours, stopping into local breweries and coffee shops for sustenance and diaper changes. They had strolled around town, laughing and talking while taking in the sites. Wren had refused to nap the entire day. It seemed he was afraid that he would miss out on the incredible adventure with his mom and dad.

Wren screamed and wailed on the drive home, even with Annie sitting in the back seat next to him. He finally settled when she leaned over him precariously to nurse him in his car seat while Jerry drove.

Every road trip needs snacks, right?

Jerry felt terrible. He worked nights at the local shipyard, and he had to drop Annie and Wren back at the house after their adventure so that he could be punctual for his shift. His paid leave balance was low, and he was trying to replenish the hours he’d used after Wren was born.

Jerry’s work assignments came in waves. Sometimes he had more work than he could conceivably manage. Other times, like last night, there was nothing to do. He couldn’t stay home, because he didn’t have enough leave to cover the absence, but there was nothing to distract him from his wife’s second shift.

She was held hostage in the nursery by an overstimulated breastfed baby. Wren would stay permanently latched to Annie if he had it his way – and he often did.

“What can I do for you? What do you need?” Jerry asked.

Annie’s eyes flashed.

“I’ve been nursing the baby for nine and a half hours. He won’t let me put him down, or else he becomes so hysterical I pick him right back up. I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. I’m exhausted. I’m in pain. I need a damn shower. And! I have to pee.”

Annie pursed her lips. She felt out of control these days. She knew that Jerry was only trying to help, but she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out. Why couldn’t he just infer what she needed?

Jerry took a deep breath to steady himself.

“I’ll be right back.”

Jerry silently crept out of the nursery and walked to the kitchen.

Annie stared down at Wren, blinking through her tears. A single droplet landed on her son’s cheek, and she brushed it away with the corner of the fuzzy blanket shrouded around them. Wren sighed the happy sigh of a well-loved baby and finally unlatched.

 Annie’s breath hitched. Her muscles tensed, preparing herself for the incoming wails that had assaulted her for hours. Wren’s snores filled the room.

Annie released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and smiled. She pulled her pajamas closed for the first time in hours and relished the warmth of the fabric against her skin. Annie kissed her baby’s perfect cheeks and smelled his hair.

“How are you real?” she whispered.

Jerry’s footsteps announced his return. He cautiously opened the door and tiptoed across the carpet. He carefully placed a tray on the table next to the rocking chair. A bottle filled with ice water, a hot cup of coffee, and eggs dropped on toast.

“Give me mister man. You go take care of yourself. I’ve got him.”

Annie exhaled in relief. She scooped the sleeping Wren off her lap, swept the blanket onto the floor, and quietly lowered the leg rest of the recliner. She gently pulled Wren closer and kissed his perfect nose.

Jerry sat in the recliner, released the leg rest, and held open his arms. His eyes glittered with the mischievous cahoots of happy parents.

“Give me the baby,” he smiled. Annie smiled back, and gently placed Wren into his father’s embrace. She kissed Jerry on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

Before she left, Annie spread the blanket over her boys. She grabbed her tray, balanced it on her knee like a demented pigeon, and opened the nursery door.

“We love you, mama!” Jerry stage whispered.

“I love you, boys.” Annie chuckled, and she silently crept out of the room. The nursery door clicked behind her, her slipper-ed toes shuffling down the hall to the kitchen.

It was an absolute disaster.