The Push

by Ashley Audrain

What I couldn’t tell her was that I felt I’d aged a century since I’d given birth to Violet. That she seemed to stretch every hour we spent together. That the months had crawled by so slowly I’d often splash cold water on my face during the day to see if I was just dreaming – if that’s why time never made any sense to me.

You used to care about me as a person – my happiness, the things that made me thrive. Now I was a service provider. You didn’t see me as a woman. I was just the mother of your child.

You’d said early on, before Violet was even born, that you didn’t like the idea of day care. Your mother had raised her children at home until they were five and went to school. You wanted the same for your own.

Rich to say when you're not going to be the one raising them

‘Wait to decide once she’s sleeping better,’ you’d reasoned. ‘You’re just tired right now. I know it’s hard, but this will pass.’ You had the nerve to say this as you dressed for work, your face bright, your hair freshly cut. I had listened to you sing in the shower that morning. I was miserable.

I desperately wanted more time to myself. I wanted a break from her. These seemed like reasonable requests to me, but you made me feel like I still had to prove myself to you.

‘You’re both very lucky to have him.’ And what about him? Isn’t he lucky to have me, too?

I was mush. But the only thing that mattered was that I could physically keep us all going. My body was our motor. I forgave everything about the unrecognizable woman in the mirror.

A mother’s heart breaks a million ways in her lifetime.

A long, exasperated pause before an answer that should be easy to give. Closing the bathroom door when you had always kept it open. Bringing home one coffee instead of two. Not asking what the other is going to order in a restaurant. Rolling over to face the window when you hear the other person begin to wake up. Walking just that much farther ahead. These slips in behavior are deliberate and noticeable. They eat away at what once was. This turn plays out slowly, and it almost doesn’t seem to mean anything at all;