“I’m just so proud of all of you. Hugs and kisses, ladies!” Emily said, blowing a kiss to her webcam.
When the chat screen closed, I shut my computer and carried Aubrey into her bedroom. I changed her diaper and put her into a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie. I looked down and realized we were wearing almost exactly the same outfit.
Half an hour later we were walking through the front doors of the community center. I held my breath as I pushed the La Lait meeting doors open. This was it. There was no turning back.
I inhaled deeply and walked through, trying to steady my nerves against the weight of the moment.
“Hi, every...” My voice trailed off as I froze against the sight in front of me.
All twenty moms, including Lola, Kristen and Nina, were standing under an enormous white construction-paper banner that read “Good luck, Ashley!”
Lola threw a handful of confetti in the air. “Surprise!”
Nina pulled a cord, sending a cascade of balloons from a net affixed to the ceiling. Aubrey squealed with delight.
Lola’s booming voice filled the room. “Ashley, we just wanted to send you off to the Motherhood Better Bootcamp knowing that we’re behind you one hundred percent. We love you!”
With that, all of the moms rushed forward and surrounded me, hugging me from all sides. I felt a warm bubble of emotion rise from the pit of my stomach and get lodged in my throat. My eyes filled with tears, and as they streamed down my face, I actually, genuinely, wholeheartedly laughed.
“I can’t... I can’t believe this!” I sputtered. Nina wrapped me in a bear hug, the twins strapped to her chest. “No matter what happens in Napa, remember that you’re already a great mom.” A fresh batch of tears ran down my cheeks.
I turned every which way, hugging the women around me. I’d never felt so supported in my entire life. Every mom had different words of encouragement for me, but they all were in the same thread: “You’re amazing just the way you are.” That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.
After ten or so minutes everything settled down and we were sitting and lying on the giant rug surrounded by pillows and toddling, squirming babies. Every few minutes a different mom would pop up and hug me, wishing me well on my trip.
The meeting flew by. I looked at my phone. I’d almost forgotten that I hadn’t done the only thing I’d intended to do. There were only ten minutes left. I wrung my hands together and watched Aubrey crawl her way over to Donovan and tap him gently on the head as if to say, “Hello friend!” They both dissolved into delicious baby giggles.
It wasn’t the right time. I couldn’t. My confession would have to wait until I returned from the bootcamp finale.
Wednesday, March 6, 6 A.M.
The morning hadn’t been an easy one. Since Aubrey was born I’d dreamt of taking even just one night off, but putting her down last night was next to impossible, as I couldn’t stop hugging her. I knew I’d only be gone two and a half days, but if you were to peek in on me, both arms tight around her pajamaed body, rocking her in the glider in the dark room, tears rolling down my cheeks, you would have thought I was leaving for war. Tonight was going to be my first night away from her, ever.
I’d hardly been able to sleep, either. Even though I’d set multiple alarms on my phone and David’s phone, I woke up every half hour.
“You’re going to be great,” David said, cupping my face in his hands as the Town Car driver pushed my suitcase into the trunk. “And don’t forget to relax. Have some fun.”
He kissed my cheek and I turned toward the waiting car. Leave it to Emily Walker to arrange a fancy black car for a pickup. As I slipped inside and glided across the black leather interior, I felt like a movie star. I watched David disappear into the house.
People always complain about travel, but I found navigating through the bustling airport and a particularly grumpy TSA agent easier than grocery shopping with a tired baby. For the first time in forever, I only had myself to worry about. By the time I was seated in 4A, a window seat in first class, I felt like I’d spent the day at a spa.
I’d never flown first class before and was slightly embarrassed to board before everyone else. The main cabin was still empty as I, along with a few business people, made myself comfortable in a large, plush seat in the luxury section of the plane.
“Can I interest you in a beverage? Tea? Coffee? Wine?” the perky brunette flight attendant asked me.
“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” I said, trying to sound as gracious and unspoiled as possible.
“How do you take it?”
It took everything inside me not to say “Cold, and with a baby on my hip.”
“Sugar and cream would be fantastic. Thank you very much.”
A few minutes later, a piping-hot mug of caramel-colored coffee was placed on my tray, alongside a glass plate with a warm blueberry muffin.
“They’re freshly baked,” the flight attendant said, winking at me.
I was speechless. Coffee and a muffin? And I didn’t have to share it with anyone? I was on cloud nine.
The main cabin began filling up as passengers shuffled past first class and into the main section. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious of not only my priority seating but the continental breakfast in front of me. I noticed a few people struggling to make their way through the narrow aisle steal judge-y glances at me, and I wanted to say, “I’m not rich! I usually eat stale cereal off my daughter’s high chair for breakfast in stained yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt!”
The familiar sound of a fussing baby caught my ear and I saw a young woman juggling an infant car seat, diaper bag and carry-on bag, while wearing a baby who could be no more than six months old in a wrap.
A pang of sympathy shot through my chest. The look in her eyes was a familiar one: a mix of defeat, frustration and determination. Our eyes met and I smiled empathetically. I’d been there. The diaper bag strap slid down her arm into the crook of her elbow.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, standing. I slid the strap back to its rightful location. “I have a baby, too. Hang in there.”
She smiled appreciatively at me. “Thank you. It’s been one of those mornings.”
She continued making her way back, stopping in the first row of economy seats, just behind me. I watched in awe as she pushed her carry-on into the overhead compartment and placed her belongings in her seats, all while bouncing her increasingly upset baby in the wrap. As she took care of business, I noticed an older man behind her get fussy over the hold-up in the line. My blood began to boil. What happened to common courtesy? Instead of tapping his foot, he could be helping her!
I stood up in my seat again. “Can I help you with anything?”