4"Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them
pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing has happened."
- Sir Winston Churchill
I always heard about how having a baby was the most wonderful thing a woman could do. Like it was every woman's purpose in life to have children.
It wasn't like that for me.
I suffered through my pregnancy. Almost lost the baby twice.
Now. I almost wish I had.
The last year of my life has been nothing but diapers and Pablum; crying and three AM feedings.
Was that supposed to be wonderful and life affirming?
It wasn't.
It felt good when I finally gave birth to my son, Darren. But that was because I didn't have to be pregnant anymore.
No more back pains, cravings or sleeping only on my side. I wouldn't have to wear the ugly maternity clothes for one more second. I wouldn't have to pretend to not notice the old ladies that stared at me on the street. See them whisper to their friends.
"Look at that girl. Too young to be pregnant."
"Didn't her parents teach her anything?"
"She must be a whore."
I could imagine them telling their other friends about me. Wondering how I could be so stupid.
I hoped it would get better once I had the baby.
But it didn't get better. It got worse.
The old ladies still stared at me. Shook their heads and frowned when I pushed my old hand-me-down stroller past them.
They ate in the nice restaurants out on the patio. Spent thirty dollars on eggs and toast for breakfast.
I had a mushy, brown banana for breakfast. It was all that I had most of the time. Well, that and fifty jars of baby food. Sometimes I was even tempted to eat those. The ladies would whisper and glance at me as I tried to hurry past them through the fancy part of L.A.
I took Darren to my grandmother's house on Sundays. It was the only day I had to myself. She lived in an expensive apartment in the nice part of Los Angeles. It was a far cry from where I lived.
She agreed to take care of Darren one day a week but she wouldn't help me out with money or a place to live.
I had to work as a telemarketer during the day and stay home with Darren at night.
I managed to sneak him into work most days. I couldn't afford a decent daycare.
I had my own office at work. Well, it was really more of a cubicle. But my boss never bothered me so I could keep Darren under the desk in his car seat.
He slept mostly which guaranteed he would be up all night. But I had to do it. What choice did I have?
"Hi Grandma," I said on Sunday, lifting the old stroller up and over the step leading to her apartment.
"Hello dear. There is something I have to tell you," Grandma said frowning.
I looked at her expectantly. I was afraid of what she was about to say.
"I won't be able to take Darren anymore. I'm moving to Florida."
And so my only day of freedom became a distant memory.
I began to have less energy every day. I was like a zombie taking care of my son.
I wished I hadn't run away from home two years ago when I was fifteen. I wanted to be an actress.
I was so naïve. I trusted someone; he told me he'd make my famous. Instead, he made me pregnant.
I was lucky to have Grandma for Darren's first year. But now, I had no one.
I went out one Saturday very early in the morning. It had to be five AM.
L.A was at it's quietest at this time yet still more alive than my hometown in Ohio had ever been.
I carried Darren down the street. He was deadweight in my arms. I looked down at him. He was cute but I didn't feel any real attachment to him.
Maybe there was something wrong with me.
I went down an alley and stopped in front of a dumpster.
The thing was, I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't take care of a baby. I could hardly take care of myself.
I was going to leave him in the dumpster but I couldn't bring myself to be that heartless. I took him to a shelter and left him, asleep on a cot. I stacked pillows around him so he wouldn't roll off.
I left L.A that night; got on a bus back to Ohio.
I hoped my parents would accept me back into their lives.
I knew the truth about life now. I hoped I wouldn't make any of the
same mistakes again. I hoped I could make a fresh start.
I remembered a rhyme my mother used to tell me at bedtime when I was
younger.
"Down in the valley, where the green grass grows."
L.A was like the valley for me. I thought it would be paradise. I thought I'd get everything I ever wanted.
How far I was from the truth.
Now I know the grass isn't always greener on the other side.
It's usually just the opposite.