Worth It

It wasn’t the decades-old alarm clock blaring its infernal beeping that woke her up.  

It was the sound of an old 1988 Cheverolet pick-up truck’s door shutting outside. A truck she would sometimes ride in, talking about plans and what she wanted to do with what life gave her.  

Rubbing the sleep-sand out of her eyes, she reached toward the dark-stained oak nightstand one of her sisters gave her when she left for college, and picked up her glasses. The early morning world came into clear view as she sat up and stared at the bright red digital numbers, silently cursing their existence.  

5:02 A.M. 

Listening to the sounds of another person bumbling around in the kitchen, she tip-toed into the closet-sized spare bedroom and peered ever so slightly into the stark white crib lined with pink and purple flowered linen.  

Inside was a tiny baby, curled into a loose ball swathed in a pink onesie, sleeping soundly with one miniature hand fisted tight.  She poked the pillow the baby rested against and waited.  

“brrrrr,” the pillow moved and lifted its head, transforming into a tabby-tuxedo cat squinting at its waker.  

“Come on KitKat,” she whispered. “Time for breakfast.”  

Kitkat yawned wide, pink tongue lolling over shining fangs, and stretched as far as she could. Instead of standing and moving out of the crib, she rolled over and curled up into the baby’s back. She licked the fine hairs on the infant’s head several times, then buried her own face in the fuzzy onesie fabric. 

“Fine, suit yourself.” She sighed, trying so hard to suppress a smile, but to no avail. It was truly astonishing how two creatures who couldn’t speak a lick of each other’s language, and yet showed the other so much love and understanding.  

She made her way into the kitchen and smiled at the man sitting on a stool opposite her, munching slowly on a sandwich messily put together. His A&G hat sat haphazardly on the linoleum counter with little bits of worn dark blue fabric fraying at the vizor edge.  

“Good morning, Honey.” She said to the man while pouring herself a cup of coffee.  

Her husband looked up at the sound of her voice and stared at her, blinking slowly. It was as if he was looking through her, the exhaustion settling in deep. Several heart beats passed. She had just finished adding coffee creamer to her mug when a small smile etched its way across his lips, and love and warmth filled his eyes at the sight of his beloved wife. The mother of his child.  

“Morning.” his voice tumbled and scattered from his mouth like a worn tire over gravel. “How’s Mia? Did she sleep okay?”  

His wife nodded. “She woke up twice last night – once to eat, and once for a diaper change.” 

“That’s less than last week, right?” he cocked his head to the side. “It feels like it was less than last week.”  

“I think so? I haven’t been keeping track.”  

He grunted and took a large bite from his sandwich. As he chewed, he couldn’t help another smile spread across his face.  

“What’s funny?” She asked.  

“Cows.” 

“...Cows?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a swig of his water. “I think I understand why cows chew slow. They’re tired.” 

She blinked once, twice, then shook her head and smiled. “I guess they must be. Wonder what makes them so tired all the time?” 

“Babies.”  

They both giggled at the derailed joke, still trying to figure out how it came to be in the first place.  

It hadn’t been easy, starting a family.  This wasn’t something they stumbled into, though. No, not like so many people they knew growing up – getting pregnant by accident, then getting a quick nuptial at best, trying to scramble around and get everything they needed set up while still trying to figure out how it all happened in the first place.  

They knew within the first couple months of meeting one another that they were meant to be. The moment wasn’t a loud moment, or showy or anything that glittered. It was rather a quiet moment, kind of like the ones in the early-early mornings, just before the sun rises and the whole world is still, just starting to wake up and stretch its tired aching limbs. He was instantly captivated by her as she walked through the front door to their mutual friend’s apartment, still in her gi from Jiu-Jitsu class and bare feet in black flip flops for the whole world to see. For her, it took a little longer. But in the end, she couldn’t help but love how kind he was to animals, respectful to others, and often jumped first at the chance to help little old ladies cross the street with their bags full of groceries – even more so when said old lady whacked his shins for moving too fast and the only way he responded was smiling and replying “yes ma’am”.  

They knew when they each held their daughter for the first time, her tiny pink fingers gripping onto theirs with such ferocity and strength they never even knew could be contained in something so small. And they even knew when their nurse had to bring their daughter back to them because she disrupted the entire nursery with her angry little shouts and demands, only to be calm and content amongst her parents’ company.  

It was moments like these when their love, pure and shining as the full moon on a warm summer’s night, sang at its loudest.  

They ate and drank their meals in silence, occasionally making comments about what their little girl did most recently.  She was starting to try and roll over to her tummy. She hated the strained chicken – what if she was going to be a vegetarian when she grew up? The cat flung a dead mouse on her chest while the baby slept in the late afternoon – It was all she could do to keep the damned furball away long enough to scoop up the dead body and not wake up their daughter.  

Small noises floated through the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. Both parents sit still and listen, straining to hear what it could be. The husband reaches a finger to his ear and turns the small dial on his hearing aid all the way to the right, wincing when the soft humming of the old refrigerator growing louder and revealing a slight constant squeal.  

He hated wearing his hearing aids. Never liked them as a kid, even more so when the other kids bullied him and called him stupid names, laughing at his disability. Those ones had been clunky and heavy. The new ones he wore that molded into his ears felt no different. If he could go through the rest of his life without them, he would do so in a heartbeat. But he knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. How else would he be able to hear his daughter cry? What kind of a father would he be if he willingly chose to ignore the pleas of the very child he helped bring into this world? 

Soft babbles answered their silent worried questions, followed by fits of giggles and tmp tmp tmp of paws jumping out of the crib and through the hallway. Kitkat poked her head into the kitchen and stared at the humans, as if alerting them that their daughter was awake and required attention. The mother began to move, but her husband waived her down.  

“I’ll get her, you have to get ready for work.”  

A heavy sigh and a nod responded. She closed her eyes and mentally readied herself for the day ahead, fighting the urge to call in sick and spend the day with her family. But they couldn't afford it. They needed all the funds they could get to keep the roof above their head, missing shingles and all. They were trying to save up for a down payment for the house down the road. It was small – only two bedrooms. And from what they could see as they drove past, the barn needed some major work, but if it meant getting out of their drafty apartment and into a home that they could do whatever they wanted to, they would find a way to do it. No one could tell them otherwise.  

She set down the half-drunk mug next to the sink and made her way to their bedroom, pulling the teal blouse and dark navy-blue skirt from the hanger she had hung on the closet door the night before.  

Peering around the hallway corner, he tore a bit of chicken from his sandwich and offered it to the cat, who happily accepted. Tossing away the remains, he set the plate in the sink and quickly washed his hands.  

The moment her eyes caught her father’s face in view, her mouth grew into a wide smile and giggles bubbled through and out of her. Little fat arms flapped wildly and reached for him, like silent demands to be held.  

“Well hello little girl,” he smiled as he scooped her up into his arms and cuddled her close to his chest. “How are you this morning?” 

She burbled her answer, eyes twinkling a cool ocean blue. The same color as his wife’s.  

“Oh really, that’s good to hear!” He replied, walking her over out into the kitchen. “What else did you do while I was at work? Anything fun?” 

Their conversation continued for several minutes. He had to pause here and there to grab a bottle and fill it with formula, but he always tried to pick it back up. He marveled at how his daughter stared at everything he was doing with such ferocity, barely blinking, almost as if she didn’t want to miss a single bit of it.  

Her mother emerged from the bathroom, having finished setting her curled hair just so, and found them sitting at the counter. A magazine with pictures of men fishing in streams, wearing thick waders and tan canvas hats laid out before them while her husband read to his daughter drinking her milk and staring up at him. Her eyes shone as she watched him, not understanding a single thing he said, and not caring anyway. His voice was the voice of safety and love. 

“What are you reading to her?” 

“Just a fishing magazine.” 

“Really?” The mother asked. “You think she’ll be interested when she's older?” 

“Who knows?” The father shrugged. “If she is, great. If she isn’t, that’s okay too.” 

“What if she wants to do ballet?” The mother asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a jar of grape jelly.  

“Is there even a place that does ballet lessons around here?” The father smiled at his wife, silently wishing she would wear those dangly earrings he bought her for her birthday last year.  

“Good question, I don’t know.” The mother replied, gently brushing the wisps of curls from her daughter’s forehead. “But I’m sure we could find something.” 

Finishing the rest of her coffee, she packed her lunch pail with last night’s left overs, along with a couple chocolate squares, and double checked her purse. Lingering a little more, she kissed her daughter’s forehead and hugged her husband. They held onto each other for one heartbeat longer than they should have, but she wasn’t worried. She was always early to the doctor’s office anyway. What was one more minute with the two most important people in her world? 

Hesitating one more time at the front door, she turned and watched her husband resume reading the magazine to their daughter, who was much more interested in what the pages tasted like than learning what they contained.  

The autumn morning felt cool against her cheeks, but not cold enough to cause worry – her car never liked the cold. It was older than ten years, but it still ran and was reliable enough to get her to work.  

She sent a silent thank you to the heavens as her car stuttered, then roared to life. As she waited for it to warm up, she glanced one more time toward their window on the first floor. She smiled at the image of her husband playing with their little girl for a small while, then while she entertained herself with Sesame Street, he would do the dishes, then settle down next to her on the couch and take a small nap.  

A sigh coupled the idea of their current life being hard. There wasn’t any if, ands, or buts about it. But she still had hope that once they get that house, their lives will get better. Better jobs will come around, their schedules will shift, and they can watch their daughter grow together.  

It will take a while, but it’ll be worth it in the end.