Member-only story
After Birth
This is what no one tells you
I don’t like the way this kid looks at me and that’s messed up. He’s my kid.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, dammit. Everyone told me I’d love this kid on sight. I sure didn’t love the sight of my belly stretching and ballooning out. It was like being in a slow-motion horror movie with that awful day growing closer and no way to get out of it.
But here’s the thing, there’s nothing wrong with this kid. And I mean nothing.
In fact, he’s perfect. Christ, it’s creepy. I’m no beauty queen and, rest his soul, Marty was your average potato-faced mick. But this kid, this boy with silky hair and wide, blue eyes, where did he come from?
“Mommy, how far away are the clouds?”
“Like I’d know? Look, don’t you have something else to do? Go play in traffic.”
“But I’m not allowed off the front porch.”
“Figure it out.”
I’ve got one of my headaches coming on. Sometimes, I can dodge the worst of it by going right back to bed. What am I gonna do about the kid, though? If I’d stayed in Camden I could call my sister or one of the cousins (they all love kids). Fuck Camden. It’s 29 degrees and sleeting there now. I look at the back porch thermometer and bare my teeth. I’m staying in Georgia…
