It Takes A Village

“Okay, you can do this, breathe,” Katherine mutters, repeating her new mantra to herself. Albeit it’s rather simple, but she finds saying the words out loud helps them ring true more than just leaving them to swirl around in her head. She forces herself to exhale heavily, a scent lingers in the air, and suddenly she’s questioning when the last time she’d brushed her teeth was, and all she knew was that the answer was definitely not today. Same goes for brushing her hair, eating more than a protein shake, changing clothes. She looks down at her shirt, the dried stain on her just above breast hard to the touch. Yep, that was definitely from yesterday when she’d been rocking him, trying to soothe his crying, although ultimately unsuccessful. She’d been so focused on getting all his blankets and onesies clean, she hadn’t even bothered to check her laundry hamper, or what she was wearing for that matter. Her mother had told her that being a mom, especially to a newborn, meant putting them above yourself. Looking down at the freshly swaddled baby in front of her, she knew it was going to prove more true than anything else her mother had ever told her. Looking in his wide dark eyes, she knew she would go to war for this kid, something she’d never felt for another living creature in her whole life. The closest she’d ever gotten before was slashing the tires of the old man in her childhood neighborhood because he had yelled at her sister for riding her bike over the grass in front of his sidewalk, effectively making her fall head first over the handles, breaking her elbow in the process. She’d ended up paying to get him new ones once her mother had found out, but even after shelling out four hundred bucks, she hadn’t regretted it one bit, not after seeing the smile on her sister’s face as she watched her do it, the fresh neon pink cast had practically glowed under the street light. Looking up at her, he starts cooing, wiggling around as much as the securely wrapped blanket allows him. She reaches forward, carefully picking up the wiggling mess, cradling him in her arms, resting the back of her forearms against her protruding stomach. “You and your sister are gonna be the death of me, ain’t ya?” she murmurs, carefully tracing a line from the top of his nose to the tip, a light giggle escaping him, bubbles popping against his own lips. She grabs the rag from her shoulder, lightly wiping at his lips, absorbing the moisture. He coos to her, seemingly trying to get words out, but she knows he isn’t, he’s only four days old, at this age all they do is sleep and eat, and she knows he can’t even completely hear her yet, let alone understand her, but that doesn’t stop her from talking, about any and everything, just to fill the silence. He doesn’t even know who she is, won’t for a while, and will only have questions once he’s able to form them. “I know you can’t even begin to understand what I’m saying, but I love you with everything I have, and if I ever have a say in it, you won’t ever know pain, not until you have to, God, you’ve already been through so much and you’re not even a week old,” she mutters, sighing to herself and clutching him against her chest. She had never even flown on a plane until she was twenty and had to make the trek home from college for her grandmother’s funeral, and yet at three days old he had been on a plane with her, traveled across the country, while she had tried her best to balance him and his bag on her shoulders, switching arms when one started to go numb. She’d received many dirty looks, some confused, others concerned. The only people who offered help instead of judgment were the stewardesses who stopped by frequently to make sure she was doing okay and the blessing of an old lady who was seated next to her for the entire flight from San Francisco to Tulsa, content to make faces at him and whisper little nothings, soothing his cries as much as she could. Thankfully, he slept about half the flight, once she’d gotten him okay after the air pressure change. She doesn’t blame him, it’s not like she could explain to him what was about to happen, or offer him a piece of gum, all he had was his pacifier, which he seemed to reject the second it touched his tongue, the blue plastic flying across the gap between them and into her cleavage. She had fished it out, wiped it clean, and offered it to him again with no luck. As he sat against her chest, sleeping peacefully, part of her had wondered if she was crazy. The agency would’ve understood if she had said no, afterall so much had changed since she and Will had applied for adoption in the first place. For starters, it had been over five years, five years of being on a list, waiting for a call that could call them across the country, to be gifted an infant that needed a home, and four and half years later, they’d finally managed to get pregnant, without trying no less, and then last week she’d gotten the call and had said yes before the lady on the other end had even finished her sentence. After the phone call on the other hand, she sunk into the couch, her hands shaking as she called the number Will’s sergeant could be reached at. Once the call went through, he had put the call through to Will without hesitation. Will called her crazy, before quickly amending that her craziness was exactly why he fell in love with her the first week they met. She’d known he meant no harm, the exact opposite, but she still wasn’t sure which made her burst into tears, simply chalked it up to pregnancy hormones, the week before she’d lost her mind over someone cutting her off in traffic, when she had never had road rage before getting pregnant. Will promised he’d do everything he could get home as soon as possible, but she knew better, knew there’s very little give when it comes to deployment, and his wasn’t set to end for another six months, but at least it was his last one. After the New Year, he’d be all her’s, for better or worse. Until then, she’d have to make do, figure things out along the way. Despite being completely exhausted, she’d managed okay since making it back to Oklahoma. She hadn’t even told anyone yet, she knew she needed to, but knew what they’d say. No one in her family had been supportive of them adopting in the first place, claiming that you never know what you’re getting, as if parents did when they conceived naturally, yet still threw criticism for not producing a grandchild yet, it all up to her since her sister had long declared that she was not the mothering type. She hadn’t spoken to her a while, missed a couple calls the past few days, but between sleeping and making sure the baby was alright, she hadn’t gotten around to returning them yet. She mentally adds it to her growing list of things to do. A light knock on the door draws her out of her thoughts. “Crap,” she mutters, carefully moving around the furniture and boxes. She can only imagine the fright she’s about to give the person on the other side of the door, looking like death itself walking. Probably a sales person trying to make their quota. She really needs to get a no solicitation sign, among twenty thousand other things. She peers out the peephole, her entire face dropping in shock. She opens the door, taking in the sight of her sister in front of her, bleached hair piled high on the top of her head, a duffel in her hand, a tall cup of coffee in the other. “Ali?”

“Will called,” she says, dropping her bag on the front mat. She rushes forward, wrapping her arms around her sister, careful not to squish the baby between them. “What, were you planning on robbing me of the experience of spoiling my nephew and niece?” she questions, her teasing obvious in her tone and smile. She picks up her bag, moving past her younger sister, stepping into the house. Katherine stands in shock, hesitantly closing the door. 

“Did you tell mom?” she asks.

Her sister scoffs, dropping her bag at the bottom of the stairs. “When was the last time I spoke to her outside of the holidays? As far as she’s concerned I’m in Europe, tramping around the countryside.” She moves forward, her arms outstretched. Loosening her grip on her son, her sister swoops under her arms, carefully cradling the infant's head, cooing at him. She just stands in awe, blinking a few times as if her sister is a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. Her sister looks up from the baby, shaking her head. “Come on, don’t look at me like that, you really think I’d let you do this alone? Now, get upstairs, take off those clothes, you reek, and take a nice shower, I got this,” she says, moving into the living room, sitting on the couch, looking completely at ease with a baby in her arms. She waves her hand at her awestruck sister, urging her upstairs. In a trance, Katherine turns around, climbing the stairs, stripping almost mechanically, until the hot water hits her skin, all her anxiety melting away, at least for the night. She has to force herself out the comfort of her shower, wishing she could stay encapsulated in the warmth forever, but she stumbles back to her room, sitting on the bed, laying back, just for a moment, to catch her breath. She never imagined she’d be here, married, pregnant, let alone with a baby downstairs in her sister’s arms while her husband was thousands of miles away. The thoughts of what is and what could've been and what never will be lure her to sleep, on top of her bedspread, only a towel secured around her bust. Her sister makes the trek up the stairs, stopping at the top of the stairs, watching her sister’s chest rise and fall steadily. She sneaks back downstairs, settling into the couch, patting the baby’s back. Allison hums lightly, singing the words to the song that had been playing in her cab. She makes a mental note that when Katherine wakes up, she needs to ask his name, but for now, baby boy will have to do, and she is lured to a peaceful state thinking of what is and what could've been and what never will be as she holds her nephew against her.