I tried to be considerate of Nora’s postpartum challenges, so I brought her rural parents in to help. But she couldn’t stand them, saying they mistreated her and wanted them gone immediately. After sending them back, Nora went back to work, earning just enough to barely offset a babysitter’s costs. Despite that, she constantly suspected me of fooling around with the babysitter. Finally, I’d had enough and filed for divorce. But it wasn’t until I ended up in her shoes that I realized just how wrong I’d been. A baby’s wail filled my ears, and I felt like I was trapped in a furnace. Groggily, I opened my eyes and instinctively called out, “Nora, what’s going on? Could you come take care of the baby?” The sound of my own voice shocked me. Why did I sound exactly like my wife—no, my ex-wife? Just yesterday, we’d had a massive argument and finalized the divorce. We’d met in college and married not long after graduation. For a while, everything was great. But things changed after Nora gave birth; she grew more and more extreme in her reactions. Wanting to help, I’d brought her parents up from Littleton to lend a hand, but she found fault with them every day. She told me they were abusive, constantly demanding that I send them away. Eventually, I did just that. Then she returned to work, only to earn what was barely enough to pay for the babysitter’s fees. And yet she still constantly accused me of getting involved with the sitter. Thinking about how I’d no longer have to deal with her angry face, I happily reserved a private room at Blue Ridge Grill & Tavern and called my friends over to celebrate the “newly liberated me.” Now, though, as I looked down at my arms, my breath hitched in shock. Smooth, pale skin stared back at me—Nora’s skin. Then I looked over at the tiny baby beside me, smaller than my forearm. A strange thought took hold: somehow, I hadn’t just ended up in Nora’s body—I’d traveled back to when Chloe was just born. And if I’m in her body, could Nora be in mine? With a jolt, I found Nora’s phone, unlocked it, and dialed my own number. In seconds, it picked up. “Nora?” I asked tentatively. “Alex?” came her equally cautious reply. Yep. We’d switched bodies. While I was freaking out, Nora seemed unfazed—even a bit excited. “Who knows how long we’ll be stuck like this? Besides, I’m still on maternity leave, so this is a great time for you to stay home and bond with Chloe. Don’t worry about work; I’ve got you covered. You and Chloe will be in good hands,” she said brightly. The casual “Honey” stopped me cold. She hadn’t called me that, sweetly or otherwise, since Chloe was a year old. Yesterday, she’d left claw marks on my face. “How long’s it been since you worked, anyway? Are you sure you’ll manage?” She scoffed. “Please. It’s been a year. If I hadn’t stepped out to take care of Chloe, I’d probably be your boss by now.” And with that, she hung up with characteristic flair. Good thing she didn’t remember the future; I’d hate to see what kind of revenge she’d come up with. With a resigned sigh, I wiped the sticky sweat off my face, picked up my crying daughter, and headed to the bathroom to bathe her. I found Dad on the couch, munching on watermelon and watching the game, the fan blasting away while he looked as comfortable as could be. “Hey, Dad, could you check the AC in my room? It isn’t coming on.” He glanced at me casually. “Your mom unplugged it; said you keep it running all day, and the electric bill’s sky-high.” Great. My mom may have come from the country, but she wasn’t stingy with family, even if she did pinch pennies with herself. Annoyed, I didn’t press it. Chloe was sweaty and uncomfortable, so I rushed her to the bathroom for a quick rinse. Nora, being the health-conscious type, had stayed slim through her pregnancy. Compared to other women who gained baby weight, she’d barely changed. For a moment, I was happy about that. But as I tried to feed Chloe, who cried endlessly, that joy quickly soured. Was she so focused on her looks that she couldn’t wait until Chloe was weaned to diet? Pulling on my shorts, I stepped out of the bathroom with Chloe in my arms, still fuming. I glanced toward Dad, only to feel a chill as I realized I’d forgotten to dress properly. Embarrassed, I ran back to the bathroom and awkwardly slipped into one of Nora’s nightgowns. I felt completely ridiculous. My own dad had just seen more of Nora than he ever should have. Just as I tried to walk past as casually as possible, he spoke up. “Don’t worry, Nora,” he said with a sly grin. “Didn’t see a thing.” If he’d really meant it, he could’ve just kept quiet. And why was he smiling like that? Was it the sleep deprivation, or was there something unsettling about that grin? I shrugged it off, chalking it up to Nora’s exhaustion and my strained nerves. I fumbled through feeding Chloe, mixing formula, changing diapers, until she finally settled down. Then I let out a breath of relief. Mom would be back soon from shopping, and then I could hand Chloe over and get a break.
“Nora! Are you planning to waltz out here anytime soon, or are you really expecting us to cater to you like some kind of queen?” Mom’s shrill voice jolted me awake. My eyes flew open as relief washed over me. “Mom, just in time! Chloe—” I hadn’t even finished before she let me have it. “Oh, so it’s fine for you to hide out in the AC all morning, huh? Do you think Alex’s paycheck grows on trees, just so you can waste it? It’s about time he divorced you!” I was too stunned to respond. Nora used to tell me that my mom was only polite to her face and criticized her behind closed doors, but I thought she was exaggerating to drive Mom away. Now, hearing it firsthand, my chest tightened. “Mom, how could you say that? Chloe’s a baby; she can’t be sitting in a room that’s so hot!” Mom snapped off the AC and glared at me. “Hot? Please. She’s just a little girl, not some precious gem.” I wiped the spit from my face, feeling shaken. Mom had always played the doting grandmother in front of me, spoiling Chloe, calling her “my little angel.” I had no idea it was all for show. Reluctantly, I followed her to the dining table. Chicken soup steamed from a big bowl. Normally, the aroma would make me hungry, but now it churned my stomach. Trying to keep up my strength for breastfeeding, I held back the nausea and reached for a bowl, only for Mom to smack my hand away. “Show some respect, will you? Alex works himself to the bone, and you’re trying to snatch his meal? You should be grateful he keeps a roof over your head!” Apparently, the big bowl of soup was for “Alex,” while Nora’s dainty portion was in a smaller bowl. It almost made sense, but I still felt the sting. Holding back frustration, I searched for a piece of chicken in the pot, only to find the tail, neck, and head staring back at me. Finally, I couldn’t take it and pushed my bowl away. “Forget it. I’m done.” She couldn’t understand that I was the one she was actually hurting. Angry, I stormed off to my room and ordered a big takeout meal from Frankie’s Pizza as an act of defiance. When it arrived, I texted Nora, half-laughing to myself. “Did you get a taste of my mom’s famous chicken soup?” “Yeah, not bad. You should eat too; can’t have Chloe going hungry.” “It’s too fishy; I couldn’t eat it.” “Doesn’t matter. American formula’s full of who-knows-what, and imported stuff is too expensive. Besides, breast milk’s free and healthier.” I had no words. It sounded just like something I would’ve told her in the past when she’d complain. I thought she was being fussy. After all, don’t all mothers get through this stuff? And Mom treated her like a daughter—at least, that’s what I believed. This role reversal made me realize what Nora had endured. A heavy, suffocating weight settled in my chest. When the pizza arrived, I was eating at the table when suddenly, Mom yanked my hair back, spilling hot soup onto my lap, and slapped me hard across the face. “What’s gotten into you, wasting money on delivery when I’ve made a perfectly good meal? How ungrateful can you get?” My scalp, legs, and cheek were stinging with pain, and my mind was spinning. This was the same “loving” mother who’d always backed me up. Fighting back tears, I choked out, “Mom, it’s me, Alex. Your son.” She scoffed and muttered something about me being delusional as she stormed out, leaving the mess behind.
Hours passed in misery until Nora finally got home. Mom may have refused to help with Chloe, but surely Nora wouldn’t. Eager to pass her over, I held Chloe out to Nora, only for Mom to intercept. “I’ll take the baby. Alex has worked hard all day, while you’ve done nothing. Why don’t you give him a massage instead?” Rubbing my temples, I muttered, “Caring for Chloe’s a lot harder than you think. I’d appreciate a back rub too.” Mom’s face crumpled into a tearful expression. “I cook, I clean, I do it all, and now you’re complaining?” For a second, I wavered. Mom had cried like this in front of me before, and I’d always thought it was Nora being ungrateful. What had I let happen here? Seeing Nora’s look of amusement as she flopped onto the couch, I heard her say, “Nora, what’s with the attitude toward Mom? She came all this way to help. Go apologize.” Her words struck me like a hammer. She’d remembered every time I’d said that to her. I sighed and gave in, massaging Mom’s shoulders obediently. That night, as the family settled in, Nora worked on her laptop in the living room. Trying to be helpful, I leaned over. “Long day? Need help with anything?” Her gaze shifted from the screen to me, her eyes sparkling with newfound determination. “It was tough this morning, but I hit my stride by afternoon. I didn’t take time off for pregnancy, so I’m still on top of my game.” Watching her confidence, I felt a bit ashamed. Nora had always been ambitious; I’d been lucky to marry her. But seeing her work so hard made me wonder—had I been supporting her at all? “I’ll be back to work once I’m fully recovered. Then we can hire someone to help with Chloe.” Nora raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Isn’t your mom her grandmother? She should be happy to care for her.” I chuckled wryly. “I know, honey. I know better now.” If it weren’t for this bizarre experience, I’d still be in denial, convinced Mom was a saint. Chloe woke up crying every couple of hours, and each time, I forced myself awake to feed her. Exhausted, I stumbled into the living room where Nora was sleeping, holding Chloe with dark circles under my eyes. “I’m going nuts, Nora. I can’t handle this. Please take her, and I’ll go to work.” No sooner had I made the request than Mom burst out, grasping Nora’s hand with a tearful expression. “My poor son! Working so hard and all he gets is a thankless wife,” she said, her voice filled with dramatic pity. I used to believe Mom’s words with misty eyes, thinking she was my wise, empathetic mother. Now, I wanted nothing more than to tell her to stop. But she was my mother. I kept my silence. Nora pulled her hand free, gave me a sympathetic look, and, with all the wisdom of her newfound experience, said, “Honey, remember: being a mom makes you strong.” Only now did I fully grasp just how strong she’d been all along.
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