Untitled for Now by Desiree Moore

Author:Desiree Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: coming of age; books like Where the Crawdads Sing; dysfunctional family; mental hospital; literary fiction; strong female lead; based on a true story; grief; found family; addiction; contemporary fiction
Publisher: Desiree Moore Books
Published: 2023-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

I knew being a mom would be hard, but sometimes it felt impossible.

Sleepless nights, colic, and double shifts at the diner marked my existence now. When Josie was brand new, my breasts were so engorged and heavy that it made feeding her difficult. Hungry, her little face would skim across my flesh, but she couldn’t latch. Eventually, she became too upset to eat, and we’d both end up crying. Her because she was starving and me because I felt as though I had failed her. Together, we lived in a helpless state with no end in sight.

Lucy would come to help on the hardest days, drawn by my sobs, which echoed through the house. The moment Josie was in her aunt’s arms, the crying would stop. I should’ve been grateful for the help. I should have thanked Lucy, but I let my inadequacy fuel unjustified anger. I wanted to be good enough. I wanted to do it on my own, but I couldn’t.

“She won’t stop!” I said through tears one night.

Lucy lifted Josie from my lap and cradled her close to her chest, making shushing sounds against Josie’s head.

“She hates me.”

Lucy’s face was serene and calm as she said, “She doesn’t hate you. She knows you’re stressed and can feel how overwhelmed you are. The only reason she stopped crying when I picked her up was because I was not upset. It’s not about loving you. She loves you, Helen.”

As much as I appreciated the sentiment, it didn’t make me feel like less of a failure.

Eventually, it became easier. Practice made progress, and by the time Josie was four months old, I had settled into motherhood. Each morning, after we were ready, I put her in her stroller, and we walked to the child development center, a nonprofit daycare in the middle of town. Lucy then assumed care for Josie after school and watched her until I came home from work. We were making it work.

Momma and Matt loved Josie, but I was careful not to let them get too close. Although I let Momma babysit a handful of times out of desperation, I tried to minimize my reliance on her. She said she was sober, but I struggled to trust her.

Sometimes guilt relating to my lack of trust would seep in, especially when Momma and Matt were supportive and helpful. Small acts of kindness, like washing Josie’s bottles or offering to change a diaper, made me question the justification for my apprehension.

The house we moved to had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The second bathroom was in Momma and Matt’s room. I had to pee one day, but Lucy was already in our bathroom. I quietly snuck past Momma, who was asleep in her bed, to use her bathroom while Matt was working at this little junkyard across town.

In the bathroom, the toilet paper roll was empty. I opened the cupboard under the sink, hoping to find a roll, but something caught my eye. A small plastic bag filled with about a tablespoon of white powder lay at the edge of the bottom of the vanity.

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