Who: Dahlia & Jenny & Ian. When: June of 2005, just a couple days after Chase was born. Where: The hospital. What: Evidently, reading books about babies isn't the same as actually having one. Sometimes you need help. Warning(s): Nothing, unless you're afraid of cute best friends and Dahlia with her sight.
There were two things that Jenny was struggling to get past; the (almost) constant crying and the breast-feeding. Nine months of lugging him around, the fatigue and sore back and aching feet, not being able to finish the tenth grade, even the actual act of giving birth itself had been easier on her than the last forty-eight hours of fumbling uncertainty. Jenny by no means enjoyed ever being uncertain, she was the type of girl who researched ahead of time in order to avoid confusion later. In this respect, being a mother was no different; she had read almost every book the library had to offer her, she had read articles and medical journals online, even asked her own mother about a thousand questions (though her mother's pregnancy and newborn advice was limited; the twins had been almost six months old before Paula and Ron even adopted them).
This time, the only difference was that it didn't matter how much she read ahead, how much she knew. Or thought she knew.
Mothering was, evidently, something one learned physically. Teaching could only be taught by someone who had been there, she was convinced. Because all of the reading didn't comfort her anymore, not now that it was really real, finally happening. There was no book that Jenny knew of about colicky babies that could explain the cold hand of fear that gripped her heart every time Chase let out an ear piercing screech. She had almost fallen out of her own hospital bed the night before, groping blinding at 3am for his bassinet beside her. It didn't matter what the cause was, Jenny's immediate question to herself was always what have I done to him every single time. She was tiny, even when she had been nine months along, and so Chase was tiny. He was six pounds but he looked, to her, like a little doll in his bassinet; a screaming doll with a little tuft of brown hair. Just like his dad, nothing like her own fair blonde. But he had the same big blue eyes as his mother and aunt, according to everyone who saw him.
Breastfeeding was a whole other ballgame, of sorts, for her to tackle. Whenever she did pick him up, careful and gentle and always dutifully supporting his fragile neck, boob seemed to be inevitably what he wanted. Again, just like his dad had been. But Jenny just wasn't getting the hang of it. She personally had never been breastfed as a baby and she and her sister both turned out fine, but she also knew that breastfeeding was supposedly way better for the baby. Maternal discomfort aside. She read all about it, after all. But there were complications.
First of all, it hurt and he never latched on well. Even with added pregnancy weight, Jenny was petite; her breasts weren't even done growing and they weren't much to be looked twice at. How was he going to survive off of those? Secondly, once she was back on her regular epilepsy medication, she wouldn't be able to feed him anyway. She didn't even want to get started on worrying about the epilepsy thing again; was it hereditary, could it be, would it be her fault if he had it? Third and lastly on the subject of feeding, it was a little embarrassing, especially when the nurses tried to help her. They told her that she didn't have to feed him that way, but she wanted to.
She had long since decided that she would be a damn good mother and do what was right, to be a better mother than anyone expected of her. Both because she wanted to, and because she needed to, just go rub it in the face of anyone who had doubted her for the last nine months. Her ex, her teachers, everyone negative. She was a mom now, granted only for two days so far, but still a real official mother. No backing out now.
Jenny was determined to get the hang of it, of herself, of him. There really was no other option. She had been dead-set on keeping the baby from the moment she found out about him, being a mother was always something she wanted to do. Though she had always pictured herself more mature, richer, expected to be much older. To not be a single mother. To have actually finished her education by the time she had children. But sixteen or not, she had wanted her baby and her parents never argued with her about it; it was her decision and they supported her. They weren't a family with lots of money, but they got by, and they assured her that they would get by with another mouth in the house. They were a close family, and Jenny had been blessed with parents who had always had somewhat progressive opinions compared to the rest of Crows Landing and their generation.
They wanted Jenny to do what Jenny wanted, what she felt she could handle, and they would help with the rest. Her dad even seemed kind of excited excited to be a grandpa, after the shock wore off. They were supportive, and so was her sister, Ian and Dahlia too of course, even when others in town were clearly not. People in Crows Landing had not minced words over the last few months on what they thought of Jenny, or what they thought of her parents for actually letting her keep her 'bastard baby' without a father in sight. Just another future welfare case, lots of people said. How was a little boy supposed to grow up without a father? Other people had asked. And with a loose mother to boot..
But by now, Jenny had given up caring one way or the other what people had to say about her. She couldn't take the insults to heart or it'd kill her spirit. It had taken her the majority of her pregnancy to thicken up her skin to the holier-than-thou judgment and rude comments, to let the giggles and pointing roll off her back like water. But she was good at it now, regularly just rolling her eyes at people and walking past, or even staring right back at them them if she was with a friend. Just to let them know that she could hear them talking bullshit about her as of she wasn't in the room. She had her family, and two best friends, and screaming baby or not, she was convinced that she would find her way.
Ian had gotten into quite a few fights over her reputation in the last couple months, punching out any guy who uttered the word 'whore' in her direction. And she knew Dahlia had been telling girls off left, right, and center for her, even some of her own former cheerleading teammates. Between the two of them having her back, and her mother and father willing to help out on the side, Jenny was convinced that she'd get by and gain her footing. Her sister didn't even want her own room at home, now that Jenny would be bringing a baby back; Ella didn't seem to care about sharing her space with both sister and nephew. She knew that she'd owe all of them a hell of a lot of recognition and thanks when she got older, when she'd be able to repay them. Where would she be without them? All of them were her family, Chase's family now, blood or not.
Visiting hours were close to being over that night, by the time that Paula and Ron left the hospital. Once Paula had gotten Jenny to assure her six times that she would be fine on her own overnight. It wasn't like there was no staff, and her father finally convinced her mother to leave. It definitely wasn't her first overnight stay in a hospital, even if it had been a few years now since she'd had to do it. Staying overnight was the least of her worries. The shrieking cry that started up right after her parents left the room, with her father pressing a kiss to her forehead before he left and whispering a 'we're so proud of you' with a smile that went right to his eyes.. that cry was what worried her.
That cry that she still didn't really know how to stop. He had just eaten a bottle of formula whole her sister was holding him earlier, so that couldn't be why he was crying.. maybe he needed to be changed. Or burped. Hadn't her dad burped him? One of the books that she read once had told her that babies had different pitches to their cries or something, to indicate what they wanted exactly. If it was true, Jenny definitely couldn't grasp any patterns or indications from all that screaming just yet. It all sounded the same, scary and intense. Like bloody murder.
Squashing down all of her self-doubt, Jenny was careful but confident as she could be as she leaned over the side of her bed, scooping up the screeching baby from his hospital crib on wheels and cradling him in her arms. "Hey now," she cooed, one arm keeping his neck and head safely in the crook of her elbow as she tried to tickle his chin with the index finger of her free hand. It didn't do much to stop the crying, but it distracted her from noticing anyone watching her from the doorway of her hospital room. "You're freaking mommy out. What's so wrong, little man?"