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Chapter 3
Motherhood had not come easy for Bridget. Even when she had first taken the home pregnancy test she had been wary of the results. I'm just not the mothering type, Bridget had said when people questioned her enthusiasm, or lack thereof. When Bridget had found out that she was pregnant she was just beginning to recover from an ankle injury that had kept her off the soccer field for three months. She had worked with a physical therapist the entire time off and had been ready to rejoin the sporting community when she had been stopped once more. There had been complications in the first few months and Bridget could no longer run. A few weeks later it was decided that she shouldn't do anything stressful or take any trips. One week later Bridget had been confined to bed rest. Bridget hadn't even seen the baby yet and had already started to loathe the kid.
As the pregnancy progressed Bridget did everything expected. She went to her doctor's appointments, listened to the baby's heartbeat, saw the sonograms. The entire time she expected something, anything, to awaken some hidden maternal feelings inside of her, but none came. The doctor had said that this was normal and that when the child was born the motherly feelings would come naturally. So Bridget waited. She waited until she went into labor, she waited until she held her daughter in her arms for the first time, she waited until they took the child home. She had hated herself for it, but she felt nothing towards the baby. The kid cried, pooped, ate. She was always in need of something. She couldn't even sleep through the night. The baby was just too demanding.
"I'll be back in an hour or so, just stay awake," Eric said, emphasizing the last two words. He knew Bridget's sudden habit of falling asleep whenever and wherever she felt like. Bridget was sitting up in bed, watching him rush through his morning activities, doing nothing to help him. Eric's tone was light but Bridget knew how serious he was. He knew how Bridget felt about the baby and so far he had done everything in his power to help her with the responsibility but there were just some things he couldn't get out of. This meeting is one of those times, he had explained to Bridget earlier although he knew she had only been half listening. She had nodded silently, staring at him through the curtain of hair that had fallen across her face. With one last cautionary glance towards his wife Eric kissed her stiffly on the forehead and took off. Bridget sat there for a minute, puzzling over the kiss. Had she stiffened up too? Was touching Eric that painful now? When had that change happened? Bridget could only guess.
Ten minutes after Eric left the baby woke up. Bridget let her cry for a few minutes before forcing herself out of bed. She'll just keep sobbing, Bridget had told herself in an effort to speed herself up. Bridget approached the nursery apprehensively and walked towards the crib. Bridget leaned over the cradle, slowly tracing the name carved into the side; Julie Marly Richman. Bridget laughed inwardly, remembering how she had thought it would be the perfect name. Julie, for Julie Foudy the soccer player that Bridget nearly idolized. She had been the first Stanford associate to play in the 2004 Olympic Games and Bridget had watched every second of her performance. Marly, of course, was after Bridget's mother. She had thought that by naming her daughter after these greats it would somehow help to endear the child towards her. Bridget had been wrong though. Staring at the child Bridget felt nothing but contempt. She was a physical reminder of everything that Bridget had lost; soccer, her mother, and ultimately, Eric. It was no secret that they were having trouble. She barely surfaced from the bed enough to keep herself fed, much less maintain a marriage.
"Calm down," Bridget said, scooping up the baby in her arms. Julie shrieked loudly, refusing to be calmed. Bridget went through all the motions, changing her, feeding her, rocking her, and felt nothing. She thought for a fleeting second about dropping the baby off at Lena's. That at least would make all the noise stop. Lena would take her, that was for sure, but would she be angry? For the first time in months Bridget thought about Lena. She never gives up, Bridget thought with a mixture of annoyance and pride. She'll keep harping on me until I go back to normal. That statement alone spawned a whole new train of thought. What is normal anymore? This is who I've been for over a year. That has to constitute as normal by now. Is this really who I am though? Who is Bridget Richman? Who am I? The thoughts spiraled through Bridget's head as if caught on fast forward. She blinked, suddenly realizing where she was and suddenly becoming very aware of the squirming child in her arms. Slowly, Bridget lowered herself into the rocking chair by the crib, a gift from her father. Then, sighing with exhaustion, Bridget began to cry, right along with her daughter. It was the first thing that they had done together since Julie had been born.