Chapter 7: Failed Attempt

Alice

Thursday, December 7, 2023

Forks, Washington

I take a deep breath, my hands curling and uncurling around the handle of Evie's stroller. She's asleep for once, and I don't know if I have it in me to wake her.

It's an excuse, I know it, and as I stand outside the rec center, I can't help the fissure of guilt I have for blaming my daughter on my sudden unwillingness to try new things.

Just try it, I tell myself. Rose said it helped her. It's just a Mommy-and-Me group. Just try it.

I swallow hard, thinking about my sister-in-law, who by all appearances has had a fair easier transition into motherhood. Sometimes I want to reach out to her, to ask her how she managed it all, but the shame of my own inadequacy keeps me silent.

I don't want anyone to know I'm failing.

A woman bustles toward me from the parking lot, and I look up at her. She's got twins, one strapped to her chest, the other onto her back. All three of them look happy and content, and I can't help but stare at her in baffled amazement.

"Hi," she calls as she gets closer to me. Does she even have a diaper bag? How is she doing this? "You must be new. I'm Lauren," she says, holding out her hand. "This is Jane and Alec," she says, motioning to her children.

I swallow hard. "Alice," I tell her. When her eyes drop to my stroller, I hastily add, "and Evie."

Lauren smiles a bright smile. "Well, welcome. It's good you got here early. Sometimes people bring cookies but they're gone almost as soon as they're set out," she laughs, pulling open the door. She waits for me to enter, and I hesitate before pushing Evie's stroller inside. It's mildly warmer in here, and as Lauren enters, she pulls off her beanie. Her hair doesn't even have hat hair. How is she doing it?

"It's right over here," she says, pointing me toward the second door on the left. I follow her, watching in amazement as her children stay quiet. Even the baby on her back seems content to watch the back of his mother's head.

There is a collection of strollers outside the room, and I park, hesitating once again before bending to pull Evie out. She grunts in my arms, but thankfully stays sleeping as I scoop her up. I turn to Lauren who is holding the door open for me.

"Thanks," I mutter quickly, rushing through the door so she doesn't have to continue waiting on me.

"How old is she?" she asks as we enter the dance studio.

"Five months," I tell her, glancing at her twins.

"Great age," she says with a little nod. "The twins just turned seven months," she tells me. "They are starting to figure out who strangers are," she laughs and shakes her head. "Alec doesn't trust anyone now."

She has a nice laugh, warm and round, but the sound of her joy and amusement makes me feel small and insecure.

She leads us to a small group of people, all of whom have babies in their arms.

"Hey, all," Lauren says with a wave. "This is Alice and Evie," she says, motioning toward me. "That's Chelsea and her son Trevor, Maria and her daughter Carmen, and that's Erik with his son Noah," she says, pointing out the other parents.

Everyone offers me a friendly smile, but my responding smile is thin.

Everyone here is showered and dressed in clean clothes. Their children all have smiles and are even in coordinating outfits.

I look down at the massive stain of soup and spit-up that is covering my jacket and can't help but feel myself shrink a little.

"Let's get settled," Lauren says, and everyone moves to colorful mats on the floor. I sit on one, flinching when Evie makes a little sound of protest in my arms. "This class is a little light on attendees," Lauren explains to me. "Most people come to our morning group. We only started this 'after-work' group a few weeks ago," she explains.

I nod as everyone else sets their babies out on the mats. Almost immediately the children are crawling or scooting around, making little sounds of delight. I watch as Lauren unclips little Jane from the front carrier before she easily swings the back around and pulls off her son. She's so capable.

"So, Alice," Erik says, grabbing my attention. "Is this your first child?"

I flinch. They can all tell I'm new at this. They can all see how I'm a failure.

"Yes," I whisper, trying to bite back my tears.

"How has it been going?" Chelsea asks.

I blink hard, uncomfortable under the sudden pressure of this conversation.

"Great," I lie. "Pregnancy was a breeze and everything is great." Even to my own ears, my voice sounds flat.

"I honestly will never complain about pregnancy again, not after your story, Lauren," Maria says.

My eyes cut to who seems to be the group's leader as she laughs. "Bed ridden most of the pregnancy, only for the twins to come early anyway," Lauren sighs. "Still, I wouldn't have changed it for anything."

I look at her children, who are about the size of my daughter, and try to imagine two of everything.

The thought nearly sends me into a panic attack.

"Do you have a partner, Alice?" Maria asks, drawing my attention back to her.

I swallow hard. "Yes, my husband," I say, feeling a little confused as to why she'd ask.

"That's good," Erik hums. "Having two to take care of the baby is always easier."

I blink. "I can't even fathom doing it on my own."

"It's not easy," Lauren agrees, and I look at her. "But that's why this group exists, so that we can get more support."

Lauren is an only parent? With two children?

My incompetiency is growing by leaps and bounds, and I try desperately not to cry.

I'm silent the rest of the meeting, unable to bring myself to answer any more questions or participate in conversation. They are all so successful at parenting. What was I thinking, exposing myself and risking people finding out how bad I am at it?

Thankfully, before the meeting is even over, Evie wakes up and begins screaming. I excuse myself from the room, scooping up my screeching daughter. I head straight outside, barely remembering to grab her stroller. I climb into the back seat with Evie and blink back my tears.

As I settle her in to nurse, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I frown and pull it out, glancing at the screen.

It's a text from Rose, and I feel my stomach drop.

Rose: I can't wait to hear how the mommy-and-me class went!

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the phone before I text back a response.

Alice: It didn't work out.

I toss my phone into the front seat so she won't be able to get ahold of me and press my head against the back seat.

Outside, darkness is starting to fall and the bright cheery Christmas lights blink to life in the windows of the rec center. I stare at them as I try to convince myself not to burst into tears. Once upon a time, the sight of Christmas lights lit me up, and brought me so much joy, I was overflowing with it.

It's hard to imagine anything in my life ever making me happy like that again.

Let's send Alice some Christmas Magic, everyone!