Mollycoddling

5:47 AM

Golden beams of summer sunlight filtered through the window and splashed all over Deirdre’s bed. Specks of dust were illuminated over her and twinkled like the stars of the night sky. She had awoken to silence, an atypical experience for most new mothers, like herself. She rolled out of bed and glanced over to the baby monitor, sitting silently on her bedside table. She inhaled deeply, and launched herself out of bed. Recently, Deirdre had needed very little motivation to rise on each new dawn. The joy of caring for precious Oriana got her up in the morning.

The house was dead silent, but Deirdre longed to hear her daughter wail. She plucked a pendant off of her bedpost, inside of which was a photo of her beautiful little girl. The walk from her bedroom to Oriana’s nursery was short, but it was too much time apart for her. She threw the necklace over her head and let it fall between her breasts, and she pressed it deep into her heart, warming the metal against her skin. 

5:51 AM

She rushed down the halls, through doorways, and eased up next to Oriana’s crib. She bent down and peered over the wooden bars to see a smiling face staring back up at her. A grin was plastered across Oriana’s face, just as it always was. Deirdre had never seen a happier baby in her life. Oriana’s cheeks were rosy, her skin smooth and porcelain white. Deirdre bent down and picked up the blanket that was swaddled around Oriana, and held the precious little thing in her arms. She rocked back and forth as she walked, making her way over to a rocking chair to sing Oriana her morning song.

“Wake, child, wake,

it’s a beautiful day today.

Not every day is good,

but there is good in every day.

With such a wonderful morning,

missing it would be a waste.

So wake, child, wake,

wake, child, wake…”

It was the same song Deirdre had sung since her baby’s birth, but it felt different now. One day, everything flipped, and she had begun to appreciate every minute detail of maternity. As Oriana continued smiling back up at her, she carried the innocent creature down the stairs and into the kitchen. She set her up in her high chair, and began mulling about in the kitchen, gathering the tools for Oriana’s formula. A daily routine, one of which Deirdre originally had grown very tired. But since that day, February 16th, everything had been different.

Deirdre suffered from postpartum depression for the majority of Oriana’s care. The medication affected nothing, and both the laughter and tears of her child grated on Deirdre’s nerves immensely. Every day seemed dark and gloomy, every moment tiresome and futile. Her child would be like this forever, she had thought. Deirdre felt as if, with each passing day, another gray hair bloomed from her scalp, while her baby was timeless, energetic, youthful, and incessantly irritating. ‘I’m too old for this’, she would tell herself. But then, like a miracle, all it took was running a bath for her beautiful daughter, and somehow, she began to appreciate every second of it. 

6:12 AM

With warm formula in the bottle, already tested upon her skin, she picked up Oriana and pressed the nipple of the bottle against her lips. Forever the messiest little thing, it spilled out, just as it did every time she fed her. She grabbed the towel she always kept on hand, and began to gently dab at the blanket and Oriana’s gorgeous rosy cheeks. Deirdre no longer grew weary of cleaning up the mess. She didn't think of it as a task anymore, but an opportunity to care for Oriana.

6:18 AM

With the lump of swaddled blankets in hand, Deirdre went out to the front yard, both to give Oriana time to enjoy the glorious golden sunlight, and to pick a couple flowers. She kneeled down, the soft pile of bright pink blankets by her side, Oriana’s porcelain complexion shining in the morning warmth. Deirdre produced a pair of clippers, and gingerly cut a couple flowers from her garden. She snagged an Aster, bright purple and elegant, and she took a rose, a thorny trap for some, but a beautiful red flower when held by the right person. She gathered a number of these and made her way back into the house, Oriana held softly in her arms.

6:25 AM

Deirdre moseyed through her home and out the back door, into her backyard where she rested upon her knees by a large stone. Engraved upon the stone were a few words, only months old, barely worn down by the elements.

Rest In Peace

Oriana Mabel Newman

February 16th, 2021

Deirdre placed the flowers she had gathered gently down upon the dirt. The earth before the grave had recently begun to spring tufts of grass into life, hiding the dirt beneath, like an old wound closing over and obscuring what once was. 

“I'm sorry, Oriana…” Deirdre whispered, but of course, there was no answer. Not a single wail or giggle, Oriana’s face was simply plastered with that same eerie, perpetual smile. Deirdre whimpered, and as the golden sunlight of morning began to fade into the dark and cloudy afternoon, her morning routine of deception was over and she tumbled headfirst into reality once again. Tears welled up and began to pour from her eyes like a faucet, spilling onto the ground and drowning her daughter once more. She balled her fist tightly on the swaddled blanket, clamping down on it like a predator on its prey. Then, without a thought outside of her anguish, she threw her arms to the side, threw her head back, and screeched up at the Heavens where her baby lay, with an Angel’s lips upon Oriana’s forehead instead of her mothers’. 

As Deirdre carelessly flung her arms beside herself to release her scream, because her fist was still clutching the blanket, Oriana came tumbling out with force. She was thrown into the ground and bounced like a ragdoll, cracking her head upon a small rock in the ground. The sound of glass shattering filled Deirdre’s ears as the doll’s limp body came to rest. Her head was halved, as Deirdre could see the emptiness within, and the only thing remaining of her porcelain face was her smile, ever-present, ever-haunting. 

7:32 AM

Deirdre dragged the lifeless Oriana back inside, with chunks of porcelain still scattering the lawn. She had wept for more than an hour, and it was time to go to work, the most miserable part of her day. Like many, she lived her life for 5 pm, when she would be allowed to head home, where she could delve back into her fantasy and care for Oriana until the next morning. It was a torturous cycle, but Deirdre couldn't wait to see her again. She had never been more appreciative of tending to Oriana’s needs, ever since February 16th, when she no longer could.