on_thecouch || 35.5. Can you handle it?
35.5. Can you handle it? (From Week 30)
[Follows a few days after THIS]
Ali didn’t know what was wrong with her. It was one of those rare times Jamie wasn’t crying and seemed content to lie in the bassinette and be the adorable baby she was, oblivious to the fact that sitting a few paces away curled up in a sobbing ball at the base of the sofa was her piss-weak mother. Ali couldn’t stop crying. Everything felt like it was drowning her and she had nothing to clutch on to for a life preserver. She didn’t even want to touch the baby in case she broke her or made her cry again. She was a horrible mother. It probably didn’t help that she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in days, but she couldn’t shake that horrible feeling that she was never going to be happy again.
She had a cold empty feeling of uselessness in her chest that wouldn’t budge and every time she tried to stop crying, it just felt like it was ten times worse. The worst part was that she couldn’t explain why she was being so stupid. She felt ashamed of herself for being like this and feeling like she couldn’t cope. She felt alone when she knew she wasn’t and she felt like she should just give the baby over to anyone who would be better at taking care of her than she was. An attempted call to Andrew had been fruitless when the guy on the phone at the EMS Headquarters told her he had been out on calls non-stop since the start of his shift. Her brother was in Toronto for an audition on some Canadian television show, so there wasn’t even any point in calling him. But when she was trying to make the calls through her endless stream of tears she felt like a failure. She didn’t deserve to call for help… she should at least know how to care for her daughter.
It was desperate times. She had stopped trusting herself hours ago and with Andrew not there to talk to reassure her, she gripped at the phone, trying to internally convince herself that she would be alright if she just stopped crying and feeling sorry for herself. It was a pointless pep talk, though. With trembling fingers, she dialled in the number for directory assistance and put the phone to her ear and listened to the dull rings that sounded to her ears like they were coming from a faraway distance. Then there was an answer and she had to force herself to speak. “C-Can I have the number for a company called Promantech in Manhattan, please?” she asked tearfully and then nodded to herself. “Yes, please connect me…”
Andrew Connor [paramedically] referenced with permission
Word Count | 448
[Follows a few days after THIS]
Ali didn’t know what was wrong with her. It was one of those rare times Jamie wasn’t crying and seemed content to lie in the bassinette and be the adorable baby she was, oblivious to the fact that sitting a few paces away curled up in a sobbing ball at the base of the sofa was her piss-weak mother. Ali couldn’t stop crying. Everything felt like it was drowning her and she had nothing to clutch on to for a life preserver. She didn’t even want to touch the baby in case she broke her or made her cry again. She was a horrible mother. It probably didn’t help that she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in days, but she couldn’t shake that horrible feeling that she was never going to be happy again.
She had a cold empty feeling of uselessness in her chest that wouldn’t budge and every time she tried to stop crying, it just felt like it was ten times worse. The worst part was that she couldn’t explain why she was being so stupid. She felt ashamed of herself for being like this and feeling like she couldn’t cope. She felt alone when she knew she wasn’t and she felt like she should just give the baby over to anyone who would be better at taking care of her than she was. An attempted call to Andrew had been fruitless when the guy on the phone at the EMS Headquarters told her he had been out on calls non-stop since the start of his shift. Her brother was in Toronto for an audition on some Canadian television show, so there wasn’t even any point in calling him. But when she was trying to make the calls through her endless stream of tears she felt like a failure. She didn’t deserve to call for help… she should at least know how to care for her daughter.
It was desperate times. She had stopped trusting herself hours ago and with Andrew not there to talk to reassure her, she gripped at the phone, trying to internally convince herself that she would be alright if she just stopped crying and feeling sorry for herself. It was a pointless pep talk, though. With trembling fingers, she dialled in the number for directory assistance and put the phone to her ear and listened to the dull rings that sounded to her ears like they were coming from a faraway distance. Then there was an answer and she had to force herself to speak. “C-Can I have the number for a company called Promantech in Manhattan, please?” she asked tearfully and then nodded to herself. “Yes, please connect me…”
Andrew Connor [paramedically] referenced with permission
Word Count | 448