“Ohhh that is so cute. Thank you so much” Zee repeated for what seemed the 100^th time with a smile on her face. She held a pink onesie with the Princess Emma embellished with rhinestones, ruffles and a huge bow she had pulled from the layers of tissue. She felt her mouth ache from the constant smile plastered on her face. She forced herself to fade out the appreciative sounds from the well-wishers around her.  She was tired, cranky and exhausted with all this drama. Baby showers were for excited moms-to-be. The ones who rejoiced the prospect of caring for a little one. The ones who counted down weeks and days. Ones who had maternal feelings and instincts. Baby showers were not for the sceptics like her.

She put the onesie down and pushed herself out of the rather comfortable love seat yawning and muttering excuses as she walked towards the restroom. She needed a break – a few minutes away from everything baby and pink. She needed to get away from the panic that flooded her at the thought of becoming a mother – a brand new mother in another 8 hours if everything went according to plan. She desperately hoped mothering skills and ability were not hereditary.

The past 39 weeks or to be exact 7 months and 3 days have been nothing short of bizarre. Her routine, well-planned yet impulsive life had strayed well beyond her life plans. “How on earth did I let things get so out of hand” she wondered as she splashed some water on her face. Her eyes looked puffy with bags under them. Her skin lacked life. She looked listless, bloated and ready to crash. Pregnancy glow was yet another thing that seemed to have skipped her.

The world especially her husband, Dan put her on a pedestal and treated her as if she was fragile. She was no longer the tough girl who could take on the most difficult clients at work or lead treks across wilderness. She was now a nurturer of life. She was expected to slow down and feel maternal. She was supposed to ohh and aww over tiny booties. Discover cuteness in prints of hearts and elephants and sailboats. Be an expert on car seats and safety. Talk about heartburns and kicks. Crave for ice creams and pickles. Pick baby names and registry items.

The world did really believe that she would be a great mother. They expected greatness from Zee the mother just like they did from Zee, the designer. She on the other hand was not sure. Maternal instinct and bonding were not amongst the myriad of emotions that constantly overtook her. Fear, panic, border-line hysteria, angst, desperate hope and a mild hatred were some of the feelings she could distinguish.

“This is not going to work, Dan. I don’t know how to be a mother”, she had cried more than once. Tears that tasted bitter just like her memories. Memories pushed to a corner. Memories of forgotten birthdays and lonely vacations. Try as hard as she might, she could not get away from the past – one murky with shadows of abuse and shades of despair.

“Will I be a good mother?” she asked everyone she met. Her obstetrician, her Lamaze instructor, her friends, co-workers, the stranger at the line in Costco, the administrator at the day care centre she toured a few weeks earlier, the barista who whipped her a cup of cappuccino every morning and Google. The answer was a resounding yes. Mothering was natural and pure. It was just supposed to spring out of a woman the minute she realizes that she has a bun in her oven. Zee was not convinced. She had given up long ago on miraculous springs and saviours. Her doubts ran deeper. Years and years of shattered hopes and dreams had made her wary.

“Knock knock! All is well Zee?” came the voice of her best friend and hostess for the evening, Nina. “Dan just walked in and you will need to leave soon” Nina reminded her. Her stomach churned with trepidation. If there was a way to get away from the nightmare she would. Escape to her old world – a place she can never go back to. She could never be the old Zee again.

She twisted the door open plastering a smile on her face and trying to hide the anxiety. She had to just do it. Walk down, sit on the love seat, open the remaining gifts, gasp, exclaim and whoop in fake excitement and then drive away with a car full of gifts to the hospital. A place of no return.

She will enter the hospital as Zee and return as the mother of Emma. Apprehension filled her as she pushed herself to put one foot in front of another and walk into the comfort of Dan’s arms.

I attempt to write short scenes for the April A to Z challenge. I randomly select words and write something around it. It has not been an easy attempt but I plan to try and challenge myself. Please throw some words at me. B to Z are open. I will dedicate the story to you (if ever I come up with one) and don’t forget to wish me luck. I need them in truckloads

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. Come back tomorrow for more.