Road To Recovery (A "Living With The Choices We Make" Sequel) ✔️

5 - Motherhood

4 - Motherhood

Rena's POV

Motherhood was much tougher than I had expected and many of the demands took me by total surprise. I stayed at the hospital for five more days and actually began to underestimate the work involved caring for an infant, having plenty of help and support.

Kade hovered almost constantly around me and any time he disappeared, my dad or Pam took his place. Noah was bathed, diapered and dressed without any effort on my part - I was only expected to lie in bed and hold him, nursing him every few hours. His mouth was too small to drink on his own but the nurse showed me how to help him with a plastic shield and after that, we were flying.

My room resembled a flower shop with colorful bouquets and blue balloons. Two of the well wishes shocked me, yet in very different ways - the one from Chantal brought tears to my eyes, the one from the Parks made my stomach clench. It was the first hint that neither Marcus nor Brent's parents had lost interest in my life.

Things changed the minute I got home and I was expected to settle into a new routine. My helpers had responsibilities of their own and returned to their regular day jobs while I was left behind on my own, tied to the apartment by an ankle monitor. Both the visits with Doc and my probation officer were temporarily suspended, but that didn't mean they trusted me enough to roam the streets without any type of supervision or plan. I wasn't even allowed to take a stroll in the park without calling Mr. Rose first - not that I wanted to anyhow since the weather was absolutely dreadful.

Caring for Noah was a battle from the start. Since he was born prematurely, none of the clothes I had gotten for him fit. I was dependent on a couple of outfits my dad got for me who had never had a good sense of fashion. I almost screamed when he brought home three pink onesies, gloating that he saved a bundle since they were on sale.

"No one will see them under the regular clothes and Noah will have outgrown them in a few weeks, so who cares," he said smugly when I confronted him that pink was a color for girls.

I gave up after that, in some ways grateful that he had even bothered at all. It seemed that all I was doing was changing the baby anyhow since he spit up a lot. No outfit lasted more than a few hours before finding its way into the laundry basket. The washing machine and the dryer ran constantly and I went through two bottles of laundry detergent in the first week. My father wasn't happy that I made him buy the expensive kind without dyes and preservatives, but after I told him that Noah could be allergic and get a rash, he caved in for the sake of his grandson.

Yet, all this was nothing compared to my constant exhaustion. Noah was hungry all the time, the nursing and deprivation of sleep slowly taking a toll on my body. Every time I dozed off, he cried - needing either a diaper change or demanding food.

My dad offered to give him the bottle at night so I could get some rest, but breastfeeding was the one thing I tremendously enjoyed and wanted to stick with as long as possible. Having Noah look at me with those big blue eyes while snuggling against my chest pierced my soul every time - the closeness I felt made the whole ordeal totally worth it.

After two weeks, my body finally adjusted and I took catnaps in between, doting on Noah the rest of the time. Through the internet, I learned how to give him little baby massages and exercise with him to strengthen his limbs. We listened to baby Mozart and I read him books out aloud that were recommended to develop his brain.

When Pam came over one evening and observed my efforts to make a genius out of my child, she just snorted. "You know, there is no scientific proof that this actually makes him any smarter."