Connecting

If you asked Elissa-let’s say, a year ago-if she ever thought she’d be a mother one day, she would look back at you with an incredulous look on her face and respond with a blunt, “no way. I have my whole life ahead of me. Why hinder all of those opportunities for a small, needy being?” Now, things have changed. Things always seem to change, don’t they? It seems that life’s meaning is simply to constantly adapt to change. Elissa looks down at her newborn, still shocked this squirming helpless being came out of her.

“What do I do with you?” She asks the newborn. Yes, she’s calling him newborn. She has no idea what to name him-every time she comes up with an idea, she resonates that name with someone she’d rather not think about every time she calls for her child to come to dinner, or to reprimand them when they’ve done wrong. Fred? No, there was a grumpy old man when she was a child as her neighbour, always scaring her. Tate? No, she had a crush on a Tate back in high school and he was a dick.

As the newborn blinks sleepily, thankfully not crying, Elissa sits back against the couch, wondering how she got here. Well, she knew. A one-night stand behind a trashy bar, trying to forget about a promotion she didn’t get and a breakup, all in one day. When she found out she was pregnant, she hesitantly walked back to the bar, trying to find someone named Oliver. Unfortunately, no one recognized who it was based off of a name. It took weeks but soon enough, she waltzed in on a Thursday evening taking in the stale air, smelling like beer and desperation. She saw Oliver nursing a cold beer at the end of the bar, the same spot she first met him. She made her way over and came right out with it. “I’m pregnant!”

Oliver studied her for a few seconds, even though it felt like years for Elissa. Was he confused as to who she was? Please, it’s been only a few weeks and she’s hard to forget.

“Congratulations?” He finally said, looking back to his beer.

“It’s…yours. You’re the only one I’ve been intimate with in a very long time,” Elissa responded, ignoring how embarrassing that confession was.

“Oh…well, yeah. I’m…really not in the right head space to be a father. If you’d like me to come to the abortion clinic with you, I will.”

I gasp, grabbing his drink and throwing it in his face. The other bar-goers look over, staring as Oliver spits out the beer. Ironic.

“Go to hell.”

It took Elissa many drives to the clinic by herself over the next few weeks, sitting in the parking lot, wondering if she should go in or not to finally understand maybe a baby wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it will bring some joy, some life into her otherwise dull, boring life.

As she looks at newborn, she knew as each day passes, she made the right choice. Newborn’s eyes open, displaying a curious set of blue eyes. Elissa’s colour. She thinks Oliver’s was hazel, she couldn’t quite remember. All she knew was that it felt relieving to know every time she looked into Newborn’s eyes, she wouldn’t be reminded of a low-life alcoholic. She would be reminded of herself.

Newborn starts whimpering and Elissa’s heart starts beating fast. She has only been alone with Newborn back at her small condo for about 12 hours now and she hasn’t moved from the couch. For the most part he has been quiet, sleeping since she left the hospital. The nurse aided every time he got fussy, so this is the first time it’s been up to her to figure out what’s bothering Newborn.

Newborn. She really must find a name for him. It’s getting a bit offensive, even though he has absolutely no idea of what is going on. He won’t for a long time. He gets fussier and she bites her lip. His face turns a bright shade of pink and Elissa grabs the delicate bundle. She rocks him, feeling pathetic. When that didn’t appease him, she stands and bounces him across the room. Newborn’s cries dwindle a bit. She suddenly feels her boobs ache, reminding her they hold food for Newborn. Maybe he’s hungry.

She sits back down, positioning him in such a way so he has easy access for breakfast. He instantly latches and in the same moment Elissa winces, she sighs as well. She now understands the unique feeling of motherhood: how fulfilling it is to not only understand what their baby’s cries are but to successfully calm them down. It is a form of success that Elissa has never felt in her office cubicle. Never felt after a date gone right. Not even felt when she finally told her abusive father off, never going back after 17 years old to that house.

As Elissa watches Newborn finish and smack his small lips, looking milk drunk, she can’t help but laugh. She can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with this small being as each minute passes. She stands, remembering from movies and tv shows that the inevitable burp needs to happen in order to proceed. She pats his back, murmuring, “pat. Pat. Pat!”

Elissa bounces her son around the room, careful not to step on baby toys of trip over the coffee table. “Pat, pat, pat,” she continues in a sing song voice, starting to wonder. Should she call a doctor if Newborn never burps? Is that bad? She assumes as much, considering it’s been in almost every movie she’s seen. She’s even seen her friend, Daisy, burp her baby when it was born, every time.

“Come on. Pat, pat-”

Burp.

Elissa celebrates, kissing a smiling Pat on his lips. Wait, Pat? She laughs as she remembers singing the word Pat so many times she ended up calling him Pat.

Pat.

She looks at her son and says, “Pat. Patrick.”

Patrick giggles, staring.

“Patrick it is.”

She turns, looking out with Patrick into the city streets, wondering what the future holds.

“As long as you’re by my side, Pat, I’ll be okay.”