Lying in bed next to Tina, our baby asleep nearby in her cradle, my mind begins its uncertain drift – in and out of a satisfied state. It’s been a wholly new experience having Tina back, after so much uncertainty. After controlling my rage to not wrap my belt around Helena’s neck in revenge for all the damage she’s done. Well, nearly did…before Tina regained her senses, finished her payback fling, and came home.
It’s also not lost on me that I’m relating with total strangers on the Internet, instead of with any of my friends. Or someone else involved in all of this – Tina springs to mind, but not yet, I can’t talk to her about what feels obsessive to me.
So, who in our circle of friends could, first of all keep a fucking confidence, or relate to any of my questions about being a new parent?
Alice has gone off the rails. Her obsession with Dana is all consuming. Tina feels really badly about it, and so do I. If we weren’t juggling with Angelica’s uncertain schedule of sleeping, feeding and pooping, followed by a fourth ball in the air, her blistering screams sometimes just for the hell of it, I know we’d either be admitting Alice into a psyche ward, or taking a long walk down the beach with her to size up the need for it.
Other’s neuroses aside, my quest for today is to understand this: When the primal bond between baby and mother is imprinting Tina as the sole provider of mother’s milk, what is left for me? Where do I fit in?
I stare out the window and wonder. Could I’ve predicted these lesbian Daddy blues?
More clouds roll in off the ocean and I feel lost.
If it’s being their provider, I never open my power suit closet any more. By now, I’ve probably forgotten how to walk in heels and not crash into a busboy. I do, however; recognize the part of me who’s half-heartedly sending out her CV for job prospects every morning, but mostly, I stare at the professional listings letting my tea grow cold.
And without guilt, I like the new me, who has no desire to work, or wrestle with people’s egos, who mistakenly believe they know more than me. No. Fuck them. I’d rather spend my early mornings painting watercolors of Tina and the baby while they sleep, and my afternoons fantasizing about having sex some day, one day, any day again.
My eyes drift down from the clouds and I hope the secret blog I started will have answers today. My cravings for the milkiness of Tina’s breasts, a very new scent in my house, has me tuned to it like a hungry dog.
I slip out of bed and stealthily make my way to my computer in the dining room.
Twenty minutes later –
I hear the shower cutting off and I switch my browser to NPR. On a low volume, Fresh Air with Terry Gross plays through the speakers, as Tina comes down the hallway and breezes past me on her way to the kitchen.
The refrigerator opens and closes.
“Bette, I’m going out shopping to buy grapes. What else do we need?”
”There’s a list around here somewhere.” I slap at my hips, but for the eighth day in a row I’m still in pajamas, no pockets.
”Here it is. Okay, got it,” I say, as her head appears around the corner of the dining room. “I found it under a notebook.”
”Bye!” she says, taking the list. “The baby’s fed and she’ll need changing soon.”
“I got this.” I answer, as Tina scoops up her keys and leaves.
Immediately, I reconnect to my blog, ostensibly about breast feeding, but I’m actually seeking more.
I see a post from DaisyMae33 and I clap my hands together. Maybe today I’ll get some answers!
”This is my first pregnancy, and I really didn’t know what to expect. My hometown is far away from where I live so, I’m pretty much doing this alone with my boyfriend. Do any other new mothers have this going on? My boyfriend has lost his mind over sucking my breast milk.”
I stop reading and my mouth drops open.
Jesus, I’m not alone…
”At first, when I got home from the hospital he was really good about keeping away from me, but then, one night after I’d gotten some rest, he was on me like a thunder for my milk.”
I repeat her description aloud in what I guess is her rural accent, “on me like a thunder.”
Nodding my head, I read on.
”It’s something I’ve never dreamed of mixing with sex. It’d felt strange at first, cause it was meant for the baby, but he loves it so.
“Last night he came home, after talking to his older sister about her having babies, and said, if I wanted to I could keep lactating after the baby was weened. I know he’s getting serious about this new thing between us, and honestly, I’m thinking about it. Any of you other new mothers being asked about this?”
I lean back in my chair. Would Tina ever, ever, ever in a million years…?
The next post is from BabyRuth123:
”This is our first child, and I’m not the daddy exactly. My girlfriend gave birth to a beautiful baby girl last month, and every body if you need to, just get over it ’cause we’re lesbians.
“Where we live there aren’t any women, who are so openly gay they wanna hang a big sign over their heads by having a baby, but we finally just didn’t give a hoot anymore, and we live out of town on my ranch, anyway.
“The baby’s schedule’s finally settling down, but my girlfriend’s hormones are still running the show! Anybody got any thoughts on how long this new mother phase lasts? I’m starting to feel a little sex crazy out here.”
I write my post using my handle, MilkyWay33, and describe my own breast milk dilemma with Tina.
”My partner had a C-section, not by design but by emergency. Her scar is healing, but she’s still sore and the baby never sleeps through the night. So, what we do share is not much sleeping, but no lovemaking either.”
I lean back in my chair wondering: why it feels so good to confess my problems to total strangers?
I continue, ”A few night ago she came to bed with her breasts still full of milk. Maybe she’d forgotten to pump after feeding the baby, or maybe she was just too tired – I don’t know how it happened – but it did. Now, every time night falls and the baby’s had her last feeding, I want her milk again.
“Helpful advice from new mothers and their partners welcome.”
I never have days like this.
I hit ‘Send’.
One hour later –
Angelica is in her baby carrier in the bathroom with me. My plan is to shower and take a much needed reevaluating look at myself in the mirror. Should I get job? Or should I borrow money until I can support us on my newly discovered fixation of painting mother and child watercolors? I suppose that’s a plan,…if I’m feeling delusional.
No sooner do my pajamas hit the tile floor, and the much needed shower spray hits my skin, the baby begins to fuss and cry. I ignore it, as the smells of me having been away from soap and water too long begin to wash away.
After a minute or two I peek from behind the shower door to see Angelica red-faced and really pissed off at me. I hurriedly wash my hair, while the baby continues her incessant yowling.
On the sensitive subject of baby crying Tina and I are back and forth about how long to let it go on, but this fit is really escalating into a hurricane of a wail.
I abandon my efforts at showering.
“Okay, okay, listen here, you’re fine.” I try talking Angelica down, when I’m faced with two monumental decisions.
Drawstrings on my pants today? Or elastic to hold them up?
I toss the towel back toward the bathroom door, and go with blue Nike drawstrings.
Tucked between the bed pillows, the baby continues to wail. If she weren’t so obviously safe, so over-the-moon cared for, and a thousand pictures of her taken everyday by three, I’d worry about her, but I think she’s just letting off steam.
“Baby, baby, baby, what’s the trouble here? Not enough colors in the rainbow for you today? ” I tickle her tiny foot, but that only proves to be more infuriating.
Wow! This child can scream, when suddenly, the bedroom door flies opens and Tina, wet patches spreading across the her blouse, charges in.
“What?” I shrug, sure of my innocence. “I didn’t do anything at all to get her twisted off like this.” To prove my point I pick the baby up and rock her. “See we’re good. I was just putting some clean clothes on.”
Angelica still cries in my arms, but her volcanic bellowing has subsided.
Exasperated, Tina looks at her soaking wet blouse. “Bette, just give her to me. I’ll take her and feed her. I mean…look at me!”
“I know we’re a handful. You’ve got it hard.” I laugh sympathetically and hand Angelica over to Tina. “How was the outside world anyway?”
“They put a new wood-fired pizza oven at the market, and the smog’s not too bad today.” She walks out of the room calling over her shoulder, “Will you put the groceries away, while I feed the baby? I didn’t buy much at all. Grapes, a few things, you’ll see.”
Instinctively, my nose follows the whiffs of her breast milk down the hallway. and my hungry horny dog is back.
A few hours later –
I sneak back to see if anyone’s answered my blog confession.
“To tell the truth y’all, it does get better. Hang in there Mommas! It may sound simple but, as soon as you can, go find somethings you used to do regular, and then go do them two days in a row. I swear it’ll make you feel yourself again. I know it’s just a little thing, but don’t dismiss it.”
The next post is from RodeoRider77:
“Good, another gay mom! Glad 2 CU BabyRuth. My baby’s and mine sex life really did flip flop around there for a while. I finally had to take a firm hand about it with her one day and remind her that it was time, so let’s go. And it was trouble only a few times after that.
“If this seems like your style, then I’d say, quit wasting time reading my post about it and get on with your business.”
I switch back to NPR.org on my browser page and look at the time.
Not enough information to gauge how I might pull this off, or if it’s even possible. Four o’clock could mean any number of things.
Quickly, I rinse the bunch of grapes and put them in a bowl. Next, I make two lemonades, spiking mine with vodka and wonder…a flower on the tray, maybe?
No, too much. Just the grapes and twenty uninterrupted fucking minutes.
I walk out to the pool where Tina’s sitting on the steps doing baby dips into the salt water with Angelia. I sip my spiked lemonade. “Delicious!” I say, handing her a plastic tumbler.
“Come join us. You want to take her? She loves this!” Tina sips her lemonade, while Angelica comes to bounce in the shallow water with me.
“I thought it might be nice for us to have a drink and visit a little.”
“’bout what?” Tina fishes a lemon seed out of her drink.
“Hm. Oh. About. . . did you see that hummingbird just now? Early for this time of year.”
“I didn’t,” Tina says, and we look around our garden for hummingbirds that were never there.
“Tee, look at me for a second.” I crook the baby in my arms sideways and she wiggles to swim away. I lean over and kiss Tina’s lips once, twice and I wait an inch from her mouth. She kisses me back softly.
I draw her into a deeper kiss, lovelier even still, when a rapping comes from Shane’s side of the fence.
“Hey, are you guys cool with me dropping off a gift for the baby?” Shane’s voice carries into our garden.
Tina looks at me for my answer.
“I was enjoying this…between us…what’d you want to do?” I ask the ‘Question of the Hour’.
“I hate to turn her away,” Tina says, hesitantly.
Hearing no answer from our side, Shane calls, “Look, I’ll just come back…whenever.”
I shout over the fence to her, “Shane, how about you watch Angelica for half an hour? Could you do that for me?”
The gate creaks open and Shane walks through with an armload of crazily wrapped packages.
Tina says, “Bette! Look at these handmade papers!” Then to Shane, “This is so sweet of you.”
I nod my head in definite agreement while silently mouthing, “T H I R T Y…M I N U T E S,” behind Tina’s head.
Shane plays it cool. “I was just messing around with the airbrush yesterday at the skate shop.” She leans down to Angelica, who sends back a delighted baby-blubber of giggles, and that’s my cue to leave.
I hand the baby off to Shane. “My friend, this means the fucking world to me right now. You have no idea.”
“I have an idea.” She rocks the baby in her arms. “I’m gonna take her home, and not hang out here by your pool.”
Almost at the gate, she turns back and says, “You look good, Bette. Not working suits you.”
“I’ll find you in about…?”
“An hour is fine. Whatever. Hey, you don’t mind if I smoke weed around the baby, do you?”
“Puff away.” I bow to Shane and run inside my house.
Down the hall I hear the shower running. I can do that again! I strip off my clothes in the hallway and throw open the door to the bathroom.
“Good God! What are you doing?” Tina shouts, as I collide with her. “Did something happen? Is the baby all right?” Then she looks curiously at me. “Bette, where are your clothes?”
This brings me up short. Make a move or die time.
I go for it.
Gripping her by the hair at the back of her head, I kiss her with everything I’ve got and send up a flare to all the other frustrated motherfuckers out there, everything’s a negotiation, absolutely everything.
Here’s my point: This next kiss must go well.
I hear a sports announcer’s voice narrating in my head. “This dive is very important. It all rides on this, doesn’t it Cecily?”
Cecily says,”You’re so right, Lance. Her form, how she enters the pool, how many back flips she makes, all determine this diver’s score.”
Lance says, “Let’s show our viewers a graphic of Porter’s double-flip-twist combo.”
Cecily’s voice over continues, “Impressive! But can she do it from such a high diving platform?”
Cecily finishes breathlessly, “Let’s see what the judges say, as she makes her final diving attempt now…for the gold.”
In a series of diagonal backwards steps and sudden turns I lead Tina through doorways and around corners and now, softly down.
I make wind of her clothing. Some fly to the left, more off to the right, everywhere but still on her.
From the bed, she watches my stomach muscles flexing as I pant and wait and lean over her…waiting…waiting…waiting…because I don’t want to forget this look in her eye of remembering me.
My tongue moves down her neck to awaken the milk in her breasts. Sucking, sucking, sucking her nipple, until it weeps a salty-sweet milk flow.
She massages her breast while whispering, “Bette, you have no idea what this feels like with you. You can’t. But I think somehow you do.”
A mist appears between us.
I can’t wait.
“Ohhh…Babe,” Tina cries, as we slide and slide together.
“I love you.”
“Oooo…you feel good.” She lifts me up from her nipple by my chin. “But I promise, I don’t have the stamina, Bette, for one of your long journeys to the edge and back again.”
”But you know, I’m no good at quickies. I’m just not built for it.”
”Yes, you are.” She quickens our pace, thrusting her hips against mine. ”Bette, it’s a known fact. You know exactly how to make me orgasm.”
”Well, when you ask for it so nicely…”
”Ooooo…ohh…” she moans, as her muscles throb up and down my fingers.
”We won’t wait.” I shake my milk haze away and concentrate on making love to her.
“Don’t wait. Don’t wait.”
I lick the milk dripping from her nipples and feel her touch moving round and round on my clitoris.
Arching my back, reaching deep into her with beats against her cervix, ripples of orgasm shake her body.
She cries out, “Oh that hurts, hurts, hurts…with perfect pain.”
Knowing I’ll never stop, no matter what she says, we go over the edge and our orgasm breaks in waves between us.
She moans until our last shutter.
Finally, breaking our kiss, she says, “Bette, we have to find a babysitter.”
Remembering Me Part Two is here: http://wp.me/p4AUvc-2f