Bad Parent: The Baby Between Us
I'm jealous of my daughter – and she's not even born yet.
by Rachel Sherman
April 2, 2009
But at night, I must remember the one comforting thought: in my childhood home my parents had a door put in to close off their section of the house. The door was often closed and kept me out. I had to knock on the door to get to the study, their bathroom and bedroom and the hall closet. They had agreed on the door and had it installed. It meant there were things I did not know about; that they sometimes wanted none of me.
On our final, childless vacation I open the screen door and walk down near the water where I lie in a hammock. I watch my husband emerge from the water. He touches my belly first, then kisses my forehead. I like when he does these things — the forehead feels like it has only to do with me.
"Why are you crying?" he asks, and I tell him.
He laughs. A silly fear, he says. Then he teases me, talking to my tummy, telling it her mother's jealous.
The idea of having a revenge-boy occurs to me. He will be mine; our girl will be my husband's. We will pair off, spar. A balance will enter our house someday.
I imagine myself the way I used to think of my mother: soft arms, large hips, a lap I could lay my head on.
But until then . . .
I lie in the hammock and my husband stands above me, blocking out the last bit of sun. I imagine myself a sex-less lump, my daughter and husband laughing, outsmarting me. I imagine myself the way I used to think of my mother: soft arms, large hips, a lap I could lay my head on. I think of her stroking my hair behind my ears again and again when I cried.
My husband gets into the hammock with me and we swing and look up at the pine trees. He is still a bit wet beside me. He lifts up my shirt so we can see if our baby is kicking.
I curl sideways, away, surrounding my daughter where my husband can't reach. For now she is still mine.
"Come here," my husband says, wrapping his damp self around us.
And I can see clearly where I will be someday, but also where I am stuck. It is our final vacation and I am surrounded: with child, with husband, alone.
©2009 Rachel Sherman and Babble
About the Author
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Rachel Sherman's novel LIVING ROOM is being released by Open City Books in October 2009. www.rachelsherman.net |
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