Page 11 of Fresh Canvas
A gilded frame weighed like a boulder in my hands. The beautiful couple inside taunted me, laughing as they shoved wedding cake into the other’s mouth. Cradling my head in my hands, I tried to remember why I’d ever fallen in love with Ryan in the first place.
Even in the beginning, I could never figure out what someone as charismatic as Ryan had seen in me. At the time, I had decided to count myself lucky, then tried not to think too hard about it over the years.
Another photo held Ryan’s charming grin behind my beaming, pregnant self. Despite our fertility struggle we would endure afterward, our surprise miracle had come less than a year into our newlywed bliss.
Happiness and tiny kicks had filled my growing stomach atthe prospect of becoming a mom. Plans blossomed, doctor’s appointments were made, and baby things from Mom arrived almost daily. My parents even offered to relocate closer to Chicago to help.
“Absolutely not.” The echo of Ryan’s scoff haunted me. I recalled the desperation in my voice as I settled my burgeoning belly beside him on the couch.
“Ryan, I’ve never done this before. I’m going to need support! My family?—”
“Is overbearing. There’s no way I could stomach them living so close.”
“Gosh, Ry. It’s not like they’ll be sleeping in our bed!” I said. “I’m feeling overwhelmed and I’m going to need help.”
“Babe.” His hand brushed mine. “You’re being unreasonable. Of course you’ll have help. You have me. You don’t need your mom to babysit you and our baby.”
“Ry, I’mliterallygoing to need her to babysit once I go back to work.”
His eyes grew before assuming a hard edge. “Surely you’re not planning to ditch our newborn while you go stare at art?”
“Well…” I hated when Ryan routinely minimized my career. Twisting the throw blanket beside me into small whirlpools, I said, “Of course not right at first. But when he gets a little bit older I’d?—”
“You’d what? Leave him with someone else? Let someone else see his first steps? Babe, I thought you wanted this.”
“I do! I mean, I’d never…” I deflated like a balloon, the roller coaster of pregnancy hormones clouding my judgment. “I don’t know. Everything feels like it’s changing so fast and I’m scared… Uh, Ry?”
Ryan looked up from typing on his phone. “Yeah? Oh, sorry. I get it, babe. Don’t worry. You’ll make a great stay-at-home mom.” He kissed my cheek and rushed off to solve a legal issue without another word.
As I approached the last few months of pregnancy, early contractions threatened me with preterm delivery. I had neverfelt so terrified in my life. Strict bed rest became reality as my dreams of becoming an art curator drifted further away.
My boss, Barbara Gaines, would need an assistant who could keep up with her fast pace. The idea of leaving the museum was gut-wrenching, but there was no way to keep working without endangering my unborn child. But Icouldgo back to work after the baby was born. Couldn’t I?
The more Ryan protested that idea, the more embarrassed I became for having it in the first place. Selfishness had no part in being a “good mom”—and I was willing to do anything to become one.
After making that heartbreaking call to Barbara, a piece of me crumbled. Dissolved. Ryan held me in his arms as I cried myself to sleep.
He murmured that it was for the best. That giving up my career was the right thing to do. That sacrifice was a necessary part of becoming a mother. His attempts at comfort—hands stroking my hair and back, the quiet whispers in the dark—made no difference. Nothing could fill the tiny, cracked fissure in my chest.
By morning, my years of burning midnight oil had extinguished into smoking wisps. But I eventually told Ryan that he was right. A good mother wouldn’twantto leave her baby, no matter how important or self-fulfilling the museum was to me.
He brought me roses later that day.
Things got worse after Anthony was born. Instead of experiencing the joys of motherhood I’d seen in magazines, I experienced a third degree tear and hemorrhoids. My nether regions had never been so thankful for lumpy ice packs and witch hazel.
While the early days were brutal, mothering eventually became easier. After all, Anthony filled my life with purpose and love. On the other hand, fatherhood couldn’t have come less naturally to Ryan, who avoided as many tasks as he could.
I dropped the photo onto the bedspread and clenched my jaw. Ryan had the audacity to claim he deserved joint physical custody of Anthony.
“Over my dead body.” I smirked. “Or his.” Either would do.
“Are you serious right now?” Ryan’s blue eyes darkened at me over the Harrison & Coates conference room table, though his lips twisted in a scoff. “Just because I didn’t change a few diapers when he was little, I don’t deserve joint custody now?” His harsh laugh made me stiffen in the already uncomfortable chair.
“It’s not just the diapers, Ryan, and you know it. You’ve always been too busy for Anthony, except when it’s convenient for you. Taking him to a few Green Bay Packers games doesn’t count.” I tried to steady the quiver in my voice. I hated that I didn’t feel stronger under his glare. Hated that it had me shrinking and shaking in front of him.
Ryan’s responding smirk read me like an open book. “As I seem to recall,youwere the one that wanted to leave him after he was born, not me.”
My cheeks heated with both flush and fury.
