Unexpectedly Yours

One of the things about having a baby is that they tend to do things in their own way.  Or, better yet, they will humble you.  "Waaah! Waaah!"  She's already wailing hard.  I stare at her from the bed, completely exhausted. God. I'm about to go mad right now. She doesn't care.  In fact, she cries even louder, kicking her tiny legs like she's personally offended by my existence.  I sigh and walk over to her. "Okay, okay. I'm coming."  The moment I pick her up, she goes quiet. I freeze.  "Seriously?"  She looks up at me with those innocent little eyes, and I roll mine.  "So you know exactly what you're doing?" She gives me a tiny smile. I stare at her.  "Amelia, I just need five minutes to take my bath and get ready for work," I tell her.  But apparently, that is too much to ask. She's been giving me this clingy attitude since morning.  I look at the time and sigh.  Another day.  Another day to stay strong, stay happy and make money.  Tired. Weak. Sick.  But do I have a choice?  Absolutely not.  After thirty minutes of patting my three-month-old baby, trying to calm her down, bathing, dressing up and rushing around the house, I am finally ready.  Finally.  I grab my bag and take one last look at Amelia.  "Please behave yourself today."  She stares back at me.  I narrow my eyes.  "Don't give me that look."  I step out of the house, already feeling exhausted before the day has even started. And honestly?  The way Amelia had been looking at me all morning...  I knew this day was going to be something else.   I push Amelia's stroller down the street, one hand on the handle and the other holding my tote bag against my side.  The morning sun is already getting hotter, and I immediately regret not leaving the house five minutes earlier.  Amelia is unusually quiet now.  I glance down at her.  She's lying comfortably in her stroller, staring up at me like she hasn't spent the last thirty minutes screaming her lungs out.  I shake my head.  "Don't think I've forgotten what you did this morning."  She blaaabs.  I laugh quietly.  "Exactly. Pretend you don't know anything." I continue walking.  Luckily, my workplace isn't far from home. About fifteen minutes on foot if I walk normally, maybe ten if I'm in a hurry.  And with Amelia, I'm almost always in a hurry.  I work at a restaurant called The Place.  It's not one of those fancy restaurants where people walk in wearing suits and dresses just to take pictures of their food. It's a simple, busy restaurant.  The kind of place where people come in during lunch breaks, families stop by after work, and regular customers don't even need to open the menu because they already know what they want.  We sell rice, chicken, pasta, fries, grilled meat, soups, sandwiches, pastries and different kinds of drinks.  I work mostly during the day.  My usual shift starts in the morning and ends in the afternoon, although once in a while, I have an evening shift during the week.  It isn't exactly my dream job.  But it pays.  And right now, that's enough for me.  I look down at Amelia again.  "Right, baby?"  She moves one of her tiny hands.  I smile.  "Exactly. Mummy needs money."  I don't know if she understands me.  She probably doesn't.  But sometimes talking to her makes everything feel a little easier.  I push the stroller through the familiar street, greeting two people I know along the way.  "Good morning."  "Morning."  "Susan!"  I smile.  "Good morning."  The woman looks into the stroller.  "She's getting big."  "Too big," I say dramatically. "She's already stressing me."  The woman laughs.  "That's babies for you."  I smile and keep walking.  By the time I get to the restaurant, I can already hear the familiar sounds coming from inside.  Plates clinking.  People talking.  Someone laughing loudly.  The blender running behind the counter.  The smell of fried chicken hits me before I even get through the door.  I take a deep breath.  Here we go.  Another day.  I push Amelia inside.  One of the waiters looks up immediately.  "Amelia is here!"  I roll my eyes.  "Forget about greeting me. Greet your actual colleague."  He laughs.  "She's more important than you."  "Excuse me?"  "She doesn't complain about customers."  I look at him.  "Give her time."  He laughs again.  I park Amelia's stroller in the small corner we usually keep it.  It's not an official nursery or anything like that.  It's just a little space at the back of the restaurant where Amelia can stay safely while I'm working.  When I first started bringing her to work, I was terrified that my CEO would tell me I couldn't.  I needed the job too much to risk losing it. But he surprised me.  His name is Kelvin.  He's the restaurant owner and one of the few people here who knows exactly what my situation is.  When I gave birth to Amelia and I told him I'm resuming back , he stared at the baby, then stared at me.  I thought I was in trouble.  Instead, he simply said, "Where do you expect her to stay?"  I had no answer.  So he sighed and helped me arrange a safe little space for her and will take her to his office when he's around.  Since then, Amelia has practically become part of the staff.  I hear footsteps behind me.  "You're late."  I turn around.  Kelvin is standing there with his arms folded.  I look at the clock.  "I'm three minutes late."  "Three minutes is still late."  I put my hand on my chest.  "Good morning to you too."  He shakes his head, but I catch the small smile on his face.  Then he looks into the stroller.  "Good morning, troublemaker."  Amelia stares at him.  Kelvin bends down.  "Look at her. Innocent."  I laugh.  "Don't let her fool you."  "She can't be that bad."  "You weren't here this morning."  He straightens up.  "What happened?"  "She cried for thirty minutes because I wanted to take a bath."  Kelvin looks at Amelia.  Then at me.  "She's three months old."  "So?"  "So you can't expect her to understand that you need to take a bath."  I stare at him.  "Whose side are you on?"  "Her side."  "Of course."  He laughs.  Then he reaches into the stroller and gently lifts Amelia.  She doesn't cry,she just keep smiling and blabbing.  Of course.  I stare at them.  "You see?"  Kelvin looks at me.  "What?"  "She only behaves for you."  "Maybe because I don't complain about her."  I roll my eyes.  "You're enjoying this too much."  He adjusts Amelia comfortably against his chest.  "Go and change. I'll stay with her."  I hesitate.  "You're sure?"  He gives me a look.  "Go."  "Okay."  I pick up my bag.  "Amelia, behave yourself."  Kelvin looks at her.  "She'll behave."  I point at him.  "You better not spoil her."  "Too late."  I laugh and walk toward the staff room.  Amelia had him wrapped around her finger.  By the time I change into my work clothes, I already feel a little more awake.  I tie my hair back, check myself quickly in the mirror and take a deep breath.  This is my life now.  Work.  Baby.  Bills.  Sleep when I can.  Repeat.  Sometimes I wonder how I manage to keep doing it.  Then I remember that I don't really have another choice.  I walk back into the restaurant.  The place is already getting busy.  A few customers are seated at the tables near the windows.  Two people are standing at the counter waiting for takeaway orders.  One of the kitchen staff is calling out an order.  "Table six! Two fried rice and chicken!"  "Coming!"  I pick up my notepad.  Work mode.  "Good morning," I say to the first table.  "Good morning."  "Are you ready to order?"  The woman looks at the menu.  "Give us a minute."  "No problem."  I smile and move to the next table.  This is what most of my mornings look like.  Taking orders.  Serving food.  Checking on customers.  Cleaning tables when necessary.  Running back and forth.  Smiling even when I'm tired.  Sometimes I wonder if customers think the smile comes naturally.  It doesn't.  Not always.  But I've learned something since becoming a mother.  You don't have to feel okay to keep going.  Sometimes you just keep going because someone is depending on you.  I glance toward the door of his office opened.  Kelvin is sitting on a chair with Amelia in his arms.  He is gently bouncing her while checking something on his phone.  I smile.  He's actually good with babies.  Who would've guessed?  A customer calls me.  "Excuse me?"  I quickly turn around.  "Yes?"  "Can I get some water?"  "Sure."  I grab a bottle and take it to the table.  Then another customer calls.  Then another.  Before I know it, some hours has passed.  I barely have time to breathe.  During one of the quieter moments, I walk toward Kelvin office.  "How is she?"  He looks down at Amelia.  "Sleeping."  I lean closer.  She is fast asleep.  Her tiny mouth is slightly open.  I smile.  "She's so peaceful when she's sleeping."  Kelvin chuckles.  "You should tell her that when she's awake."  "I do."  "And?"  "She doesn't listen."  He laughs.  I gently touch Amelia's cheek.  For a few seconds, I forget about everything else.  The bills.  The tiredness.  The endless work.  I just look at my daughter.  Three months old.  Three months of being her mother.  Three months of trying to figure things out as I go.  Three months of learning that motherhood is beautiful, exhausting, frightening and confusing all at the same time.  Kelvin watches me quietly.  "You okay?"  I nod.  "Yeah."  "You sure?"  I smile.  "I'm fine."  He doesn't argue.  He just hands Amelia back to me.  "She'll probably wake up soon."  I take her carefully.  "Thank you."  "No problem."  I hold her against my chest for a moment.  And just like that, I heard it.  A tiny whimper.  I close my eyes.  "Oh no."  Kelvin laughs.  "She heard you."  "I knew it."  The whimper becomes a cry.  I look at him.  "She's hungry."  He nods.  "Go ahead."  I take Amelia to the small private area we use whenever she needs to feed.  That is one thing I don't joke about.  No matter how busy work gets, if Amelia needs to breastfeed, I have to stop.  She's still my baby before she's anything else.  A few minutes later, when she's settled again, I return to work.  And the day continues.  Nothing extraordinary happens.  No big surprise.  No dramatic moment.  Just me.  My daughter.  My job.  And another ordinary day of trying to make life work.  At least, that's what I thought it was.