Chapter 17 Gwen
Gwen
In the wee hours of the morning the day after the visit with Leigh, Gwen was up breastfeeding June while googling the best sex lube.
She couldn’t focus, though, because her breasts were killing her.
There were lumps in both—a first-time occurrence since she’d embarked on this experience of being a milk factory.
She pressed on the lumps, figuring she had clogged ducts.
It sounded like a plumbing mishap because it was, essentially.
The milk was not moving through the channels properly; there was a backup.
She switched her Google search from sex lubes to clogged ducts.
One had only to investigate a new mother’s Google search history to understand all she was up against.
Her research confirmed what she already knew—the best cure was for the baby to breastfeed, pulling the trapped milk through the ducts with the magical sucking reflex.
A few posts said to get on all fours and have the baby latch so gravity could do its thing.
Gwen slid a finger into June’s mouth to get her to release the nipple.
She wasn’t done feeding, so she was understandably annoyed with this interruption.
As June whined, Gwen got on all fours and then did her best to hold June against her breast with one hand.
How did women do this? This seemed like it would only work with a toddler that could stand on her own and lift her head to the nipple, like a calf to a mama cow.
She considered calling Jeff to come help.
He could prop up June underneath her. But she knew he would think this was crazy, and she didn’t want the burden of his judgment.
She gave up and rested back into the usual position, holding June like a football across her chest as she resumed feeding.
Somehow, despite the discomfort, Gwen fell asleep.
She wasn’t sure what woke her—the sun peeking through the curtains or the chills running through her body. Was she sick?
Jeff opened the door to the room, already dressed in his best suit, his travel mug of coffee in one hand.
“Good morn—” he said, before realizing something wasn’t right. “Are you okay?”
He sat on the bed next to her. She felt clammy, her whole body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
“I think I’ve got some kind of bug,” she said.
“Oh no, sweetie.”
She put the underside of her wrist to her forehead. It seemed hot, but she wasn’t sure how a forehead was supposed to feel.
“Do I seem hot to you?” she asked him.
He touched her forehead and said, “A little. Let me get you some Tylenol.”
She heard him open the cupboard in the hallway where they kept all their medicines. She knew exactly where the Tylenol was, but he didn’t. She could only take so much of hearing him rummaging around.
“It’s on the right, by the Pepto-Bismol,” she said.
“Aha!”
She stared at the two white pills in his palm.
She knew over-the-counter pain medications were considered safe to take while breastfeeding, but was anyone really sure?
There were so few studies on pregnant and breastfeeding women—no pharmaceutical company wanting to risk being blamed for damaging a baby.
“Babe,” Jeff said. “Take them.”
He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he had no patience for it.
She exhaled and took the pills. She was sure Angeni Luna would judge her for it.
“Should I stay home today?” Jeff asked.
It was nice of him to ask, but she knew this was a big day for him. He had to be in court, and Judge Barkley was presiding, and Judge Barkley did not take kindly to last-minute schedule changes.
“No, no,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She wasn’t sure at all. She hadn’t felt this sick in years. But it was probably just the flu. Her immune system was shot from lack of sleep. Viruses probably had a field day with new moms, feasting upon their vulnerability, capitalizing on their fatigue.
“I’m sure. We’ll just take it easy today,” she said. “Right, June?”
June, of course, did not give a shit if her mother was ill, but it was nice to pretend that she did, to entertain the idea of their relationship having some reciprocity.
It occurred to Gwen that it would probably never be that way, that this was what motherhood was, that this was what she’d signed up for.
She caught Jeff looking at the clock. She knew he had to go. Judge Barkley also did not take kindly to tardiness.
“Will you call if you need me?” he asked.
She definitely would not call him out of court.
“I will,” she lied.
He kissed her on the forehead.
“Wait,” he said.
He went back into the hallway and returned with the bottle of Tylenol.
“In case you need more,” he said, shaking it like a rattle before setting it on the nightstand with a satisfied tap. She had no plans to take more of this possibly damaging medication, but she thanked him anyway.
“We’ll see you when you’re home,” she said.
He kissed June and said, “Be nice to Mama,” and then he was gone.
Gwen stared at the clock, wondering how she was going to get through an entire day with an infant while feeling like she’d been hit by a truck.
She set June in the bassinet and went to find the “baby care kit” that someone had given her at her shower.
She knew it included a thermometer because she remembered telling Jeff that if they ever had to take their baby’s temperature rectally, he would be in charge.
They had laughed the way parents-to-be laugh when they have no idea what’s coming.
She unzipped the kit and found the thermometer, stuck it in her mouth.
She felt dizzy standing up, so she crouched down on the floor, easing herself into child’s pose, resting her forehead against the cool hardwood.
When it seemed like a couple of minutes had passed, she removed the thermometer from her mouth and willed her eyes to focus on the number.
104.
Did it really say 104?
She couldn’t remember ever having a fever so high. Was it possible she’d gotten something from Leigh and Belle? Could a virus transmit that quickly? She crawled on her hands and knees back to the bed, reached up for her phone.
Hey. Sorry to text so early, but are you sick? I’ve got some kind of virus going on
The three dots of an incoming response appeared right away.
Leigh: Girl, I don’t even know what normal hours are anymore. Ugh, being sick with a baby is the worst. Shouldn’t be allowed. We are ok over here. What are your symptoms?
Gwen: I’ve got a 104 fever, aches, etc
Leigh: Shit. That’s high. Do your boobs hurt?
Gwen: Ya they’re killing me
Leigh: Shit. You might have mastitis
Of course, Gwen knew what mastitis was. But like most people when it comes to bad things, she didn’t think it could happen to her.
Gwen: What do I do? Warm compresses? Cold? I can’t remember
Leigh: I think you gotta call your doc. Fever is too high
Gwen scrolled through her contact list until she found Dr. Blake. She made her way past various prompts before getting the emergency answering service. When she told them what was going on, they sounded alarmed by the 104 fever and said they would put the doctor through.
“Ms. Fisher?” Dr. Blake said.
“Yes?”
“If your fever is a hundred and four, you need to go to the ER.”
“What? Really?”
“Do you have someone to drive you?”
Jeff was likely in traffic, halfway to the court. She texted Leigh.
Gwen: Doctor says I should go to the ER. I know this is a lot to ask, but can you take me?
Leigh: Of course. Send me your address
She texted the address and told Dr. Blake she would be going to the ER. He said he would check in with the staff there in an hour.
She knew she should pack a bag for this unexpected outing, but she couldn’t think straight.
When had she taken the Tylenol? Had it kicked in yet?
She felt suddenly cold, her teeth chattering.
She pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around herself.
Her only solace was that Leigh would be there soon enough.
It seemed like just a minute later when Gwen opened her eyes and saw a woman dressed in white coming toward her. The figure was blurry, ethereal—an angel? No, not an angel. But Angeni Luna.
“Angeni?” Gwen whispered.
“It’s me,” the voice said. “I’m going to help you up, okay? Nathan’s with Belle, so I’ve got June in Belle’s car seat.”
Nathan. Belle. The names were familiar. This woman wasn’t Angeni Luna. This was Leigh.
“June?” Gwen managed. Had she passed out? How long? How had she not noticed her own baby being whisked away? She looked around to confirm that, yes, her baby was not in the vicinity.
“She’s in the car already,” Leigh said. “I’ve got the passenger door open. You just gotta get to the car, okay?”
But getting to the car seemed like an outrageous trek, on par with summitting Everest.
Gwen instructed her legs to move, but they no longer felt like they were under her jurisdiction. They were just these things attached to a body that felt increasingly unlike her own. But if her body wasn’t her body, then how did she exist? Was this what it was to die?
“One step at a time,” Leigh said.
They were in the hallway, making their way toward the front door, which was halfway open, letting in daylight from the outside. Gwen was, quite literally, going toward the light.
“You’re going to be okay,” Leigh said, as if reading Gwen’s morbid thoughts.
Somehow, they got to the car, and Leigh buckled her into the passenger seat. Gwen had forgotten about June until she heard her cry in the back seat.
“Fuck,” Leigh said. “Do you have any bottles in the fridge? Freezer bags?”
Gwen wasn’t sure who Leigh was talking to. Was she talking to her?
“Gwen, is June hungry? Do you have milk?”
“What?” Gwen said.
“Never mind, we have to go. We’ll figure it out at the hospital,” Leigh said.