Psychological Affairs

Chapter Thirty-Four: May 2nd, 1992

May 2nd, 1992

                Another sleepless night in the Johanson household. Parents Vanessa and Joseph were fast asleep in their bed. Joseph worked another long shift at the hospital and Vanessa dove in head first on her cases—even if she was supposed to be on maternity leave.  Infiltrating the once quiet home was the sound of cries coming from their 6-month old daughter, Michael. Both of them groaned in anger. Vanessa, putting a pillow over her head, shouted to her husband:

“Your turn!”

                Joseph pulled the covers over his head to block out the sounds.

“My turn?! I’m not touching her, you do it! You’re her mother!” He said, readjusting his position.

“My turn?!” She said incredulously.

                She took the pillow from over her head and sat up. She turned to her husband and hit him with her pillow making him sit up.

“I’m not touching her. I already had to touch all of her shit today. You do it!” She shouted.

“I just came home. I’m not touching that fucking brat! Why don’t you get Trevor to do it?” His tone became angrier.

“Because Trevor’s fucking five years-old! If you allow her to keep crying, she’s going to wake him up!” She screamed louder.

“If she gets a fucking diaper rash, we won’t get any sleep at all!” She added.

                Joseph clenched his jaw with anger. He wanted to scream so many obscenities to his wife but he would’ve woken up his son. With that said, he angrily got up to face his screaming child. He walked to his daughter’s pink and white nursery and followed the cries until it led to his daughter in her crib. He turned on a lamp that was near him and looked at her. Red faced with tears, her face was scrunched up at him. He took it as if she was giving him an evil look and flashed an equally disgusted face.

He shook his head and began to check her diaper. He opened it only to find out that she pissed on herself. He glared at her and then focused back on the wet diaper. He reached for the baby wipes, ointment, baby powder, and a fresh pair of Pampers. He cautiously opened her diaper and began to wipe her. He looked up at her, making eye contact with his now-quiet daughter. He took the ointment and rubbed it all over her area when she stopped crying. He looked up at her in confusion. He looked down at her area and began rubbing it slowly. She didn’t make a sound. Something—somewhere—some place in his mind, clicked. He added the baby powder and then put on the diaper on her.

He walked over to her side of the crib where her huge eyes followed him around. His fingers brushed her little tummy up and down, sometimes trailing to her undeveloped breasts. This all made baby Michael ticklish and she cooed in response along with flashing a smile full of gums. He smiled at her in response and repeated his actions. She put her arms up as a signal for him to hold her. He picked her up and held her close to his chest. He kissed her, making her coo again. She held onto him tight and gave him a wet open mouthed kiss on his cheek, making him smile. She gave him more affection than his wife did in months. He sat down in the white rocking chair beside her crib and began to rock slowly with her in his arms. He looked down at her and for the first time ever, he actually looked at his daughter—looking as in actually noticing her. He stared into her big eyes and saw something—himself. He didn’t look at their resemblance or the way a father can look at his daughter; but he saw only himself. He smiled wider and kissed her tiny mouth. He sat back and rocked her back to sleep for at least an hour before he headed back to bed.

The next couple of days were very different. Vanessa leaned on the island in the kitchen as she watched her husband feed their daughter. The same man that refused to change her—let alone touch her—was being more affectionate and more caring than he’d been in the six months she’s been alive. Vanessa exchanged glances from baby Michael to Joseph—who was not even paying attention to his –wife—while the baby and she made eye contact. She glared at her child, sipping her coffee. She started to dislike her daughter, resenting her every day that her genes became dominant. She was slowly, but surely feeling that she had to compete with her daughter for her husband’s affections.

                Her husband’s increasing attention for Michael was not only annoying to her, but annoying to their five year-old son Trevor—who was at preschool at the time. The former “golden child,” Trevor went from being his father’s everything to being annoyed, something he was never used to. He, along with his mother, began to become jealous of his baby sister while his father and sister developed a close bond.