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I turn around and swear. How did this happen? We’ve been getting along fine for months. I take a few deep breaths and then turn back around. “Maggie, we can’t do this. We can’t be at each other’s throats. He doesn’t deserve this.”
She looks down at Ian and lets out a frustrated groan. “Fine.”
We stand for a moment without speaking and then she says, “He’ll need to eat as soon as he wakes up. We should probably head back.”
She nudges her head toward the trail, and we walk in silence until she sighs loudly.
“What?” I ask, looking at her out of the corner of my eye.
“We should talk about custody since you’re moving out.”
We should. I can’t imagine this going well, but we should.
“What are you thinking?” I’m going to let her take the lead on this.
She bites her lip and looks over at me.
“What?” I say.
“Well, I’d really prefer not to start a formal custody agreement while he’s breastfeeding.”
I laugh loudly. “Okay. Are you planning to breastfeed him until he’s eighteen, then?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. I’m not sure how long I’m planning to breastfeed him, but that’s a lot of work for me to pump when he’s not with me especially right now when he’s eating around the clock.”
I actually understand what she’s saying. I’m not trying to make her life difficult.
“I know I have no legal ground to stand on, but I think it is best if he’s with me right now.”
I don’t disagree, but where does that leave me?
“Okay, fine. We’ll figure it out once he’s older. I guess I’m just not needed right now.”
She shoots me a look.
I continue “Am I allowed to hang out with him from time to time, so he doesn’t forget who I am?”
She just throws her hands up. This conversation is going nowhere. Maybe we should not discuss it more without lawyers.
“This isn’t forever. We can find a permanent arrangement after he’s not exclusively breastfed,” she says.
“Maybe.” I mutter.
We’ve made it back to the main building and are standing out front. I’m about to lose it right now. We’re both looking in different directions, trying to figure out what comes next when Ian starts to stir.
“Oh god,” I look down and then laugh.
“What?”
“I’m suddenly very wet.”
“Oh, no. Poop or pee?”
I look down at the carrier and then say, “It’s poop.”
She motions me to follow her back to her room. When we get inside, she unbuckles the carrier and takes Ian.
“Oh my god,” she says, looking at the back of the sleeper. “How? Ian, how did you manage this?”
