My Brook, the sweetest little girl any mother could ask for, was born on the eleventh of February. I was eighteen when she was conceived, her father was a man I'd met at a party while I was attending college. He was someone I’d never seen before, and haven’t seen since. I couldn’t even tell you his name. It was a drunken night of unprotected euphoria that gave me my first and only child, and for that very reason, after she was born, I suffered severe post-partum depression. Every one of my friends told me to get an abortion in the beginning, but the more I thought about the life inside me, the more convinced I was that I just couldn’t do it.
My mother was a big help though. She let me move back home and offered no complaint what-so-ever about my pitiful state while she did most of the work with Brook. I think the truth was that she was just glad to have a full home again. Dad passed away from a heart attack two years before I moved out, and I think she’d been very lonely. I slept on the couch in the living room for the most part, while Brook slept in a crib in my old room. College was put on hold because I didn’t think there was much point in going to school if I was going to be too exhausted from taking care of a baby. For two months that couch was pretty much my nest, and I hardly ever moved, even when I heard Brook through the baby monitor on the night stand next to me. I would just wait for mom to go check on her.
It wasn’t until one day in April that I finally broke out of my crippling and lethargic state of mind. I was lying on my side in the living room, while the TV played its scheduled commercial advertising. There was a sudden rustling sound that came through the baby monitor, heralding Brook’s awakening from her nap. For a moment, I lay unmoving, expecting to hear commotion from mom’s room when she heard Brook through her own monitor. That’s not something I’m proud of either, but it is the truth.
I’m not sure how to properly explain my state of mind during that time in my life. It was a sickness of the head, and I was too deep into my own pool of self-pity to seek help for it. There was an ever-present sinking feeling of regret for not having an abortion, and then subsequent guilt for allowing myself to have that thought. Mom never even once suggested that I should go to therapy or express that I was a burden to her in any way. I think she always believed that I would just one day snap out of it. As it turned out, she was right.
That day, I laid there, listening to Brook coo in her crib and waiting to hear Mom leave her room, something changed in me. I remember thinking, what in the hell are you doing, your daughter needs you. From that simple thought, I drew strength. As I stood from the couch and made my way down the hall into Brook’s room, I knew everything was going to be fine. I wasn’t a bad person just because I’d needed Mom’s help with my baby. School didn’t have to be an unattainable dream just because I got pregnant, single mothers do it all the time.
I entered Brook’s room, walked over to her crib, and looked down at her. The table top fountain on the dresser next to the crib burbled as I smiled down at my daughter. She had her feet up, grabbing at the loose ends of her footie pajamas, but she stopped when she saw me. There was a long moment of silence as we stared at each other. Brook stared up at me with unblinking eyes and an open mouth, as if she was sizing me up. It’s absurd, but it was as if she was wondering herself if I had finally broken free from my depressing spell. Finally, she smiled up at me and giggled. I laughed too, and picked her up, swaying her back and forth as if we were dancing. That’s when I knew, everything would be fine.
From then on things changed for the better, and I felt like my normal self again. I got back to school and completed my bachelors in Chemistry. Mom let us live with her until I found a job and was able to build up enough savings to move out on my own. Brook grew up so fast, and before I knew it, eight years came and went. She was the sweetest little girl a mother could ever ask for, I never once had to discipline her for any reason. Though I did have to be careful to keep an eye on her. Exploration was her favorite hobby, she was always so curious, her blue eyes always so full of wonder. So, I had to make sure I was always watchful, and I was. I was always so careful, but then, there was that day on the lake.
