“Don’t ever do it.”
Her voice is a whisper over the phone. I assume that people are in the room with her because she sounds afraid of being overheard and there is holiday music in the background.
“Don’t do what?” I’m confused since all I asked was how she and the baby are doing now they are finally home after all the complications.
“Have a baby. Don’t do it. It’s a trick. One huge fucking conspiracy.”
“I’m telling you, it’s a fucking trick. All of your friends with kids encourage you to do it, tell you how great and rewarding it is. But it’s not true. They just want you to jump into that miserable, sinking ship so that you can drown with them.”
How am I supposed to respond to that?
“You’re just exhausted after all that you went through and have post-baby blues. I know that you must be missing your mother too and it’s also almost Christmas so you’re stressed out…”
“All I want for Christmas is my fucking life back! This has to be a conspiracy because they all know awful it really is before you do it and push you to do it. They only tell you the fucking truth after its too late,” she continues to whisper as if I didn’t even say a word.
Hormones, exhaustion, the burden of new mommy-hood responsibilities and the holiday season are taking a huge toll on her. She needs to vent to someone outside her family, someone who isn’t going to judge her for feeling unmommy-like.
But strangely enough, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard that theory from a few women in my entourage.
Is she right? Is there some kind of conspiracy going on?
As I remember all the lonely days of finding the courage to give myself the strict regimen of injections, I slide my hand across my secretly growing belly and am no longer sure I want to put that theory to the test all by myself.
©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.
Originally posted on February 4, 2016, adapted in December 2017
This fiction inspired by this article.