Perfectionist Rehab

Annie placed her tray on the kitchen island as she looked around. The trash was

overflowing. Cups, mugs, bowls, spoons, and empty seltzer cans covered every surface. The countertops were sticky from every spill and smear that neither she nor Jerry bothered to wipe up in their sleep-deprivation these last two months.

We’ll clean it up later.

Every shoe, jacket, and bag cluttered the hall tree by the front door. Fingerprints and food splatter filmed every appliance. The stove was caked with water spills, crumbs, burnt-on bits, and grease splatter.

The vase was holding Annie’s wilted “welcome home” daisies. Their stems were wrapped in fuzzy mold from eight weeks of neglect.

Annie’s heart began to pound as sweat trickled from her armpits and prickled her upper lip. She instinctively began to walk towards the sink, but she stopped herself.

Eat, Annie. The mess can wait.

She took a deep breath and sat at the table. She tentatively sipped her ice water. As the cold water graced her tongue, her thirst became desperate. She had been so disconnected from her own feelings since Wren was born, she hadn’t even noticed she was thirsty.

She gulped her water, taking care to warm her soft palate with the back of her tongue after each sip to prevent brain freeze. She drained her entire thirty-two-ounce water bottle, and set it aside.

She regarded her egg-covered toast and winced.

Eggs had repulsed Annie since her pregnancy cranked up their smell like a stereo system at a high school assembly.

Her stomach rumbled, and she realized how desperate she was to eat. Annie took a deep breath and rallied herself.

It’s just eggs. Keep it together. You used to love eggs.

Annie felt a bit queasy, but she forced herself to take a bite. The eggs were cold, but otherwise delicious.

She munched her breakfast in the silence of the filthy kitchen, wholly dissociating while taking in the room around her. She mindlessly took a gulp of coffee.

HOT. VERY hot.

In a panic, Annie spat out the mouthful onto the floor. Annie scoffed.

What better to go with a cold breakfast than scalding coffee?

She wiped up the spill with a paper towel.

I’ll clean that better in a little while.

The crumpled-up piece of paper fell onto the floor when she tried to toss it into the trash. Annie sighed.

I guess I’ll pick that up later too.

She grabbed her coffee cup and went into the living room to find the baby monitor.

The living room was a war zone.

Baby toys, packets of wipes, and empty diaper sleeves littered the unwashed floors. The room reeked of footprints and the stale exhales of unbrushed teeth. Blankets covered every piece of furniture, and were covered in spit up, breastmilk sprays trademark of uncontrollable letdowns, and baby drool.

It reeks in here.

The baby monitor was on the floor by the television stand, and the back to the battery pack lay snapped on the floor.

So that’s what I stepped on last night.

Annie retrieved the monitor and turned it on. Jerry’s snores fill the living room and she smiled.

Jerry was sleeping even less than she was these days. He would work in the evenings and would immediately take over baby-duty so that Annie could get three hours of unbroken rest. Then they would all spend the day together, caring for Wren, and taking naps.

Wren was a typical baby, in the sense that he flat-out refused to be put down. He was only peaceful in a baby carrier, strapped to his parents’ chest, or he had to be in their arms. He was often ravenous and panicked the whole five seconds it took for Annie to whip out her breast to feed him.

Wren screamed during every transition, every bath, and every diaper change. He screamed every time he woke up, as if he were grieving the time he had missed out on mom and dad by snoozing.

Annie was fried, depleted, and overwhelmed.

The pressure she put on herself was suffocating her, but she kept thinking about the situation from Wren’s perspective. That’s why she couldn’t stop. That’s why she was so motivated to abandon her own needs.

Annie squinted at her destroyed living room. She was disgusted with herself, and angry that it had gotten so bad. She pocketed the baby monitor and placed her coffee cup on an end table. She bent over to begin cleaning, and she stopped herself.

I still haven’t gone to the toilet.

She retrieved her coffee and walked to the bathroom. She relieved herself and took a deep breath.

Okay. I’ll take a shower, and then I’ll get started on the housework.

Annie peeled her sweaty pajama top over her head, kicked her pants off her ankles, and tossed both articles onto the pile of laundry spilling from the hamper.

She opened the shower curtain, and a sizeable wad of hair stared at her.

Ugh! This has got to go.

Annie grabbed the tumbleweed of hair on the shower wall and threw it into the trash. She turned on the shower.

Wren’s milk cry echoed off the tile from the pocket of her discarded loungewear.

The answering let down sprayed milk all over the bathroom floor.

Annie tensed, flooded with guilt and rage at her own selfish needs. She shut of the water, and stepped towards the door.

“I’ve got you, little buddy,” Jerry whispered. “Let Mama take her shower. She’ll be with you in a minute. Let’s wait together.”

Annie’s eyes filled with tears.

Jerry’s got him. I can take care of myself too.

Annie sighed as she climbed into the shower and rushed through her ablutions.

Annie hastily scrubbed rosemary shampoo into her scalp. Rinsed her hair as quickly as possible.

She slathered her strands with conditioner and yanked a brush through them. She lathered up with lavender soap, and gasped when the suds stung her chapped nipples. She rinsed the conditioner from her hair and washed her face. She shut off the water, shaking.

Wren had screamed the entire shower.

I’m traumatizing him.

Annie could hear Jerry soothing Wren over the monitor.

“It’s okay baby. Mama will be right back. Be patient. Shh…”

Annie rubbed the towel through her hair and patted herself down before flinging a bathrobe around herself. She yanked her hairbrush through her hair one more time and brushed her teeth.

Wren kept screaming.

“Shh…It’s okay baby. Daddy’s got you.” Annie sobbed and rushed to the nursery.

“I’m here, baby. Mama’s here.”

Annie hopped into the recliner as Jerry finished his loop around the nursery. She flung her arms towards her child, desperate to hold him.

Wren was safely tucked back into his mother’s arms, and he latched immediately. He smiled up at Annie as he drank.

Wren and Annie calmed down as the milk flowed. Jerry released the recliner’s footrest, and tucked a blanket around them.

“How long were we out?” Jerry asked.

“I’m not sure. Thirty minutes?”

“Would you hate me if I went to take a nap?” Jerry asked. “I’m exhausted.”

“Of course not,” Annie smiled. “Go sleep. Thanks for giving me space to shower and eat.”

“No problem at all. You matter too, you know.” Jerry kissed Annie’s forehead, and gently stroked Wren’s hair.

“Do you want a refresh for your coffee before I lay down?”

“Yes, please. I left my cup by the bathroom sink.”

“You’ve got it, sweetheart.”

Jerry left the room to fetch her refill, and Annie nestled into the recliner.

She stared at Wren. His beautiful dark eyes glittered up at her. His perfect smooth skin. His mile-long eyelashes. She counted his fingers and toes, singing softly, and kissing him between verses.

The mess downstairs can wait. I can’t miss out on this.

Jerry returned a few minutes later with a warm cup of coffee and Annie’s refilled water bottle.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Maybe the remote? I’d like to watch something while I snuggle the boy.”

Jerry fetched the remote and passed it to Annie. He kissed her hair.

“You’re a wonderful mom, you know. He adores you.”

Annie’s eyes filled with tears as a lump halted her speech.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Jerry stretched. “You’re welcome. I love you too, you know.”

Annie rolled her eyes.

“Go take your nap. I love you too.”

Jerry smiled as he left the room.

The rest of the day followed the same pattern. Mom and dad took shifts, baby Wren demanded cuddles (which he gladly received). Jerry cooked their meals and cleaned only the dishes that were necessary at that moment to keep everyone fed.

Mom and baby were enraptured by each other.

In the late afternoon, Jerry delivered Annie a plate of leftover pizza. He picked up Wren so that she could eat unencumbered.

“You should get going. You don’t want to be late for work again,” Annie said.

Jerry laughed. “That’s true but look at this little guy!”

Annie smiled. She knew exactly what he meant. How are they meant to get anything done with their sweet little baby finally home?

The couple did not have an easy time conceiving. Months passed to no avail, and it was only two years in, when they had finally reconciled with themselves that they may never be parents, that their dearest wish came true.

A wish that shattered before their eyes four weeks later.

Annie grieved loudly and openly. She wailed, cried, and screamed. She bargained with the universe over again, begging the powers-that-be to return her child.

Jerry grieved quietly. He shoved his pain down and fixated on practical things. He kept up with the chores and the errands.

He attended every shift. He became a shell of himself as he avoided the trauma of losing the thing he wanted most.

His vitality was drained through the monotony of daily life. To the outside world, Jerry was wholly unaffected by their tragedy, but Annie knew better.

They rarely spoke about their baby, but each always knew that they were there for each other. The entire experience taught them how strong their bond was and fortified their resolve.

If they could survive loss, they could survive the trials of early parenthood, too.

They agreed to try again. Thankfully their efforts were rewarded much quicker this time. Annie suffered throughout her pregnancy, terrified of every symptom.

She begged the universe for a sticky baby who would not leave her prematurely.

Her labor was a week and a half late, three-days long, and excruciatingly painful.

Jerry never left her side and cracked a joke just as she was crowning.

It was through that burst of joy that Wren entered the world.

Two months passed since that day, and neither Jerry nor Annie had ever put Wren down.

This was certainly in part because Wren screamed in righteous indignation the instant they tried.

But I think it goes deeper than that.

Annie and Jerry were terrified of letting their child go, because they thought they’d never see him again.

I watched as Annie’s eyes fille with tears and nodded. Jerry returned Wren to her arms.

She kissed her son’s perfect little cheeks.

Jerry harrumphed.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I know you will. Have a good night. We’ll miss you!”

“I’ll miss you guys. I love you, family.”

“We love you, Daddy!”

I watched as Jerry left the nursery. Annie nursed Wren back to sleep in the same recliner they resided in for weeks.

She hadn’t even allowed herself the comfort of her own bed because she was so focused on Wren.

This was why their house was in such disarray.

Annie’s tears were falling steadily in Jerry’s wake, and I angled my ears to listen as she whispered into the dark.

“Please. If anyone can hear me. I need help. My walls are closing in on me. My house is a mess. I’m failing. I adore my baby, I really do. I’m so grateful I’m his mother. I want to hold him, but I didn’t expect that I would only hold him. Jerry is as tapped out as I am.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

“We can’t do anything but the bare minimum we need to do to survive. Please. Someone help us.”

That moment of vulnerability, prayer, and honesty is how I gained access into their home.

That’s how Annie invited me in.