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I bit my lip.
“As much as I do think you have better opportunities over there, and the distance is good… considering that asshole ex of yours,” my mother ranted.
Although my mother might’ve fucked up a great deal in my childhood, she’d been there for me when I left Emmet. She’d been fucking furious. Ready to kill him, until I talked her down. She’d given me all the money she had saved—which wasn’t much—to help pay for a lawyer. She’d stepped up.
But it wasn’t enough. Not then, at least.
“Anyway,” she said, “I like that you’re over there, but you do have to be careful. The things they add to their food are illegal here. You make sure you wash all your fruit, and don’t drink tap water. Have you looked into adding live mushroom resin in your diet?” she asked. “I’ll send you some. It’s great. It contains so many minerals—”
“Mum, I’m pregnant,” I blurted, knowing she wasn’t even going to stop to take a breath.
“And I’m married,” I added, thinking it would be best to say it all at once.
Dead air on the other side of the phone.
I’d managed to render my mother speechless.
For a second.
“Holy shit!” she yelled. “How far along are you?”
“Eight months,” I said, wincing.
Another pause. I couldn’t say it was from her being hurt for sure, but I could imagine. And I felt guilty for that.
My mother was not someone to be kept down for long, though.
“Have you got a doula?” she demanded. “Are you doing a home birth? And if you’re not doing a lotus birth, then at least delay cord clamping.”
“Holy shit, Mum, I don’t have half of what you’re talking about,” I replied.
“Oh well, it’s okay, I’ll be able to figure it all out,” she said distractedly.
I froze. “What?”
I swore I heard a click on the other side of the phone. A click that sounded like a computer mouse.
“Well, I can’t come over immediately because I have a moon circle meeting that I’m hosting, but that’s okay. It’s your first baby, so you’ll go late.” She paused. “Well, darling, of course it’s not your first baby,” she corrected. “Your others weren’t ready for this world, but they are precious nonetheless, and they were here.”
My heart clenched.
Another time my mother was there for me.
When I’d lost the third baby. When I was so trapped, alone and broken—and I’d had a bottle of wine—that I had nowhere to turn to that I’d called my mum, even though I didn’t have any experience of her showing up for me.
But she did. Show up for me then.
Another piece of her I’d buried away in order to fit my narrative.
“Wait, you’re coming here?” I clarified.
“Of course, I’m fucking coming there,” she said. “It’s my first grandchild. And my daughter will need me. I’m a certified lactation coach. Breast is best, darling, and I’ll show you just how to position the nipple—”
“Enough about my nipples, Mum,” I demanded, looking down at the nipples in question. Although I probably could use the help. The fuckers had already started leaking. “You’re cominghere?” I repeated.
“Yes,” she said. “I know I should’ve come earlier. I wanted to come earlier, especially since you’ve settled in that wonderful-sounding town.” I had told her about Jupiter on one of our rare calls. “But I knew you needed your space,” she continued. “Knew you needed to heal. And as much as I missed you, it was my karma to miss you for how I failed you.”
“Mum,” I said on a sigh. “As much as I appreciate you owning up to your actions, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
