Stuck Like Glue

Jocelyn was sick. Our pediatrician said it was nothing to worry about, just a common cold, but try telling that to a miserable infant. She was sick and she wasn’t happy. She’d been crying and screaming for hours on end, wordlessly begging me to fix her. I did the best I could to comfort her, rocking her and singing to her. Nothing worked for more than a few brief moments. I was starting to forget what silence sounded like. She didn’t want to be put down, she was quietest when I was holding her and cuddling her. I just wanted my little girl to feel alright again.

Jack wasn’t home. He’d gone out for formula and Jocey’s prescription, a medicine that her doctor said should help her sleep. He had left over an hour ago, and he hadn’t called or texted me in that entire time. With Jack gone and Jocey sick, I just wanted to curl up and cry. I felt so useless, but Jocey needed to be held and Jack was nowhere around to help.

I lay her down on the changing pad, her cries increasing as I leaned away to grab one of her blankets. I remembered vaguely how to swaddle her, from one of the many books we’d read during the adoption process. I hadn’t done it recently, not since the week we brought her home. I tucked her blanket underneath her and tickled her bare feet. She hated socks, and somehow conveniently managed to shuck them off whenever I wasn’t looking.

Her cry stopped momentarily as she giggled, kicking her feet at me to keep me tickling. I leaned over and blew a raspberry on her tummy where her shirt had ridden up. She grabbed onto the strands of my hair and held me close. I was glad to hear her laugh, the first laugh I’d gotten in a week since she first started getting sick. She continued to giggle, like the healthy little girl I knew, until she began to sneeze again and her cries started back up with a vengeance.

“Oh, you poor baby,” I murmured, pulling back and watching as she cried and sneezed and coughed, kicking her legs hard towards me. “I’m sorry. You know I would make you better if I could. In a heartbeat. Daddy would too, if he’d ever come home.”

I went about swaddling her, trying to remember the steps and finally, close to five minutes later, had her wrapped up snugly, her big eyes staring up at me in surprise. I lifted her up and held her against me. She sneezed again, snot dribbling down between her nose and mouth. Her eyes screwed up and her mouth opened, and she let out an ungodly wail.

“Oh, Jocelyn,” I sighed, grabbing a few baby wipes from the changing table and sinking into the rocking chair. I wiped her nose, and around her mouth, tossing the soiled wipes towards the diaper genie when I was done. I rocked back and forth gently, closing my eyes for a moment before I started to sing.

“I could go off the deep end,
I could kill all my best friends,
I could follow those stylish trends,
And God knows I could make amends.
But I've got an angry heart,
Filled with cancers and poppy tarts.
If this is how you folks make art,
It's fucking depressing.”

Her mouth shut and her screams settled to quiet whimpers as I continued.

“And it's sad to know that we are not alone.
And it's sad to know there's no honest way out.

I'm afraid to leave the house.
I'm as timid as a mouse.
I'm afraid if I go out,
I'll outwear my welcome.
I'm not a courageous man.
I don't have any big, lasting plans.
I'm too cowardly to take a stand.
I want to keep my nose clean.

And it's sad to know that we're not alone in this.
And it's sad to know there's no honest way out.

In this life we lead, we could conquer everything,
If we could just get the braves to get out of bed in the morning.”

Fast asleep in my arms, she looked so peaceful, so happy. I closed my eyes again, leaning back in the rocking chair and evening out my breathing. I felt myself nodding off, and even without Jack here and my fear that he was hurt or in trouble running rampant, I let sleep take hold of me.

That is, until our front door slammed shut so loudly that it jolted Jocelyn awake and her screams started all over again. I shushed her and stood up, furious with Jack for being so damn stupid. I kissed Jocey on the forehead and lay her down in her crib, ignoring her screams as I walked out of the room, taking the monitor with me and shutting the door. I marched downstairs and found Jack in our kitchen, putting the new cans of formula into the cupboard. I crossed my arms and stared angrily at him until he looked up.

“Hey Lex, uhhh, whatcha staring at me like that for?”

“Hmmm, let’s see. Maybe it’s because you left me alone with the baby when she was sick. Or maybe because you went out for formula and her prescription over an hour ago. Maybe it’s because I just got her to sleep finally and you come in and SLAM the door! We’re not twenty years old anymore, Jack! You can’t just do shit like that! We have a kid to take care of and right now, she needs her medicine, and she needs to sleep, and she needs her father now to just disappear because he can’t handle her crying!”

Jack’s mouth opened and closed, like he was gasping for air, while he tried to come up with a response. I snatched the medicine off the counter and marched straight back up the stairs with it, leaving my floored husband behind. Jocey quieted as I entered the room, setting her medicine on the dresser and reading the directions. I used the handy medicine dropper Jack had also picked up on his little adventure to measure out the proper dose and went about lifting my baby out of the crib. She squirmed as I settled myself back into the chair, balancing her against me with one arm while I checked the spoon again.

“Okay, Joce, this isn’t going to be very pleasant for either one of us, but it’ll help you feel better. Okay, beautiful?” I said, rocking very gently in the chair and wiggled the eye dropper into Jocey’s mouth. I squeezed the end and watched as her eyes grew wide. “You gotta swallow it, baby. You’re not gonna get any better if you don’t. Come on, be a good girl for Poppa.”

She didn’t spit it out, instead swallowing the medicine and glaring up at me.

“I know, it’s yucky, isn’t it? That’s okay, we’ll get you some nummy formula to cover that yucky taste and then it’ll be bed time. For both of us. And Daddy can sleep on the couch, because he’s been a stupid head. Okay?”

I laid her back down on the changing table and removed the blanket from around her. She grinned up at me, thanking me for it. I picked her back up and held her against my chest, her chin resting on my collarbone as she looked up at me.

“You want your baba, do you? Yeah, you didn’t eat very much earlier. Too busy screaming, no time for food, right?”

I carried her downstairs, past Jack who was sitting at the island.

“Jack, will you make Jocey a bottle?”

“Oh, are you done being mad at me?” he snipped, pushing himself up and rounding the counter while I put Jocelyn in her bouncy seat that sat on the island and strapping her in.

“You don’t have the right to be mad at me, Jack! You’re the one that disappeared, not me. I was at home, alone, without you, with a screaming baby. I had no one to take her when I had had too much. I had no one to tell me that it’ll be alright, that my baby girl would feel better. We are in this together, Jack, but if that’s too much for you, you tell me right now.”

Jack didn’t say anything, just hung his head and set about making up Jocelyn’s bottle. I watched our daughter watch him, eyes somehow both curious and knowing.

“I’m sorry,” he finally replied. He stood beside me and handed Jocey the bottle. She stuck the nipple into her mouth greedily and held the bottle as she ate.

“Yeah, well,” I sighed. “You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

He kissed me on the temple and chuckled.

“Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, jackass. I love you too.”