Elisabeth "Liz" Harrison (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
losing_my_religion) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2015-05-12 12:41 am
losing_my_religion) wrote in muserevival2015-05-12 12:41 am
Entry tags:
091.7 Misc./Random - Word Porn
metanoia (n) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life
When Liz stood at the door of her parents' house for the first time since Blake had been born, there was the overwhelming feeling of worry. She knew her parents knew that she had a baby. They'd secretly been hoping that she and Lewis had gotten married on the hush and it was their baby, especially since they'd learned that he was in New York now. But Blake was far from that. He was every bit the result of a one night stand, the night that Liz lost her virginity, far older than most people were when they got to that point. He was the result of a pregnancy she hadn't known about until days before Blake was born. She had barely put on any weight at all, and she didn't look pregnant. And then all of a sudden, here was this tiny boy who she and Cameron were responsible for, and she still wasn't sure she knew what she was doing.
Liz stood at the door far longer than she should've, holding Blake close against her chest after taking him out of his carrier, because she wanted nothing more than to protect him from the possibility that this might be a less than pleasant encounter. But if there was a chance that her parents had learned something from Lewis' folks, she had to at least try. Blake was quiet... sleeping from the long car ride, a blessing Liz had quickly learned to be thankful for, and she waited for a moment, whispering quiet words of reassurance to the baby, when the only person in true need of reassurance was herself.
She pressed the button for the doorbell, and when her mother opened the door, she gave her a warm, if nervous, smile. "Hi, Mom," she said softly. "I... I'm sorry to show up unannounced like this, but... I wanted you to meet your grandson. This is Blake Lewis Preston. Blake, this is your grandma."
In the first moments, it seemed as if everything would be just fine, her mother lighting up at the sight of the baby and inviting her in. Liz dared to hope, if only for those moments, that maybe this would all be okay. That she and Blake would be accepted back with open arms. But the moments of hope would quickly be squashed once they started talking. There was a part of Liz, even as a grownup, that longed for the approval of her mother... that longed to be seen as a good mom in the eyes of the woman who'd raised her. Blake was her whole world despite the fact she'd never seen him coming or planned for him, and raising him the best way possible was all she really wanted out of life. She'd already done exactly what she wanted to in her career, so keeping the bakery in business and keeping Blake safe and cared for were her biggest priorities.
Everything seemed okay, her mom even going so far as to assure Liz that Blake himself was not a sin, (though not without the disclaimer that he'd been created by a sin), and that he was still loved, no matter how he came to be. It was a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Liz was taking what she could get at this point, and the more her mother cooed over Blake, even asking to hold him, the more Liz was being lulled into the belief that maybe this was workable. Baby steps, but workable. And the more she wanted to pick her mom's brain for mommy knowledge, as so many other daughters did after the birth of their own children.
"Mom," she said softly, Blake nursed back in her arms after her mother had gotten up to make them both a cup of tea. "I... Do you ever stop worrying that you're not doing it right?" she asked, needing to hear her mom telling her that it was okay... That she was a great mom, and all moms worried. "I mean, I spend every waking moment worrying if his crib is right, if I'm buying the right diapers, the right formula..."
Her mom stopped her right there with a laugh, as if Liz had just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard, and Liz tilted her head to one side in confusion. "What's so funny?"
"The right formula? Elisabeth, there is no right formula for a baby. You know that. Breast is best. Why would you feed him formula?" The judgement was right there, written all over her mother's face, and Liz could feel her heart sinking. It was as if just that one thing alone in her mother's eyes made her a horrible mother, and she didn't know how to deal with that feeling.
Tears stung her eyes as she clutched Blake close to her chest. She would do anything to protect him and keep him safe... anything at all. "Why would I feed him formula? Because I listened to you, and tried breastfeeding. I wanted him to have the best. What mom doesn't want that for her baby? But it wasn't enough for him. He wasn't growing like he was supposed to, and he needed something else." She felt like she was choking on her words, but she had to say them.
"That's why you see a lactation specialist. It's bad enough that you couldn't do anything else as the Lord intended... Conceived him out of wedlock with some atheist from England, had a c-section, which deprives him of antibodies he could only get from natural birth, you haven't even talked to the pastor about having him baptized yet, and now you're depriving him of even more immune building by feeding him formula? You know better, Elisabeth." Every word stung, filled with the scorn of a disapproving mother, and Liz felt sure she was going to fall apart any minute.
But she didn't. She held it together, carefully holding her son against her chest, and gave her mother the bitchiest glare she could manage. "My son was conceived by two adults who became loving parents the moment they first saw him. He was delivered by C-section because he was in distress and if he hadn't been, he would've died. He will never be baptized because he doesn't need Jesus in his business... My son won't grow up like Lewis and I did. He won't be afraid to tell me about his life because he thinks I'll judge him. He will know that whoever he is, whether he grows up to be the biggest, burliest, straightest guy on the face of the earth, or the most flamboyant gay queen to ever prance in a Pride parade in fairy wings and hot pants, his parents are going to love him until they draw their last breaths. And yes. I'm feeding him formula. Breast is best. I know that. I know that there are antibodies in my milk that can't be replicated in formula. But I also know that if I keep him off formula, he'll waste away and die, and fuck you for thinking that doing things the right way, even if it kills my son, is the way the Lord intended. Fuck you for thinking my baby is less beautiful and wanted than any of your other grandkids because Cameron and I aren't married. Fuck you. Just... Fuck you. Don't ever ask me to see him again, unless you're coming prepared to apologize for being such a self-righteous bitch. I'll be raising him the way I see fit with his father, who loves him, and his flaming homo uncles who are more family to him than anyone genetically related to his mom. Fuck you. Fuck Dad. Fuck Pastor Joe. Fuck all of you, because Blake deserves better."
She didn't look at her mother again, not caring to see the stunned shock on her face as Liz gathered her son's diaper bag over one shoulder and her keys in her hand to storm out the front door, slamming it behind her.
liz harrison || original character
When Liz stood at the door of her parents' house for the first time since Blake had been born, there was the overwhelming feeling of worry. She knew her parents knew that she had a baby. They'd secretly been hoping that she and Lewis had gotten married on the hush and it was their baby, especially since they'd learned that he was in New York now. But Blake was far from that. He was every bit the result of a one night stand, the night that Liz lost her virginity, far older than most people were when they got to that point. He was the result of a pregnancy she hadn't known about until days before Blake was born. She had barely put on any weight at all, and she didn't look pregnant. And then all of a sudden, here was this tiny boy who she and Cameron were responsible for, and she still wasn't sure she knew what she was doing.
Liz stood at the door far longer than she should've, holding Blake close against her chest after taking him out of his carrier, because she wanted nothing more than to protect him from the possibility that this might be a less than pleasant encounter. But if there was a chance that her parents had learned something from Lewis' folks, she had to at least try. Blake was quiet... sleeping from the long car ride, a blessing Liz had quickly learned to be thankful for, and she waited for a moment, whispering quiet words of reassurance to the baby, when the only person in true need of reassurance was herself.
She pressed the button for the doorbell, and when her mother opened the door, she gave her a warm, if nervous, smile. "Hi, Mom," she said softly. "I... I'm sorry to show up unannounced like this, but... I wanted you to meet your grandson. This is Blake Lewis Preston. Blake, this is your grandma."
In the first moments, it seemed as if everything would be just fine, her mother lighting up at the sight of the baby and inviting her in. Liz dared to hope, if only for those moments, that maybe this would all be okay. That she and Blake would be accepted back with open arms. But the moments of hope would quickly be squashed once they started talking. There was a part of Liz, even as a grownup, that longed for the approval of her mother... that longed to be seen as a good mom in the eyes of the woman who'd raised her. Blake was her whole world despite the fact she'd never seen him coming or planned for him, and raising him the best way possible was all she really wanted out of life. She'd already done exactly what she wanted to in her career, so keeping the bakery in business and keeping Blake safe and cared for were her biggest priorities.
Everything seemed okay, her mom even going so far as to assure Liz that Blake himself was not a sin, (though not without the disclaimer that he'd been created by a sin), and that he was still loved, no matter how he came to be. It was a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Liz was taking what she could get at this point, and the more her mother cooed over Blake, even asking to hold him, the more Liz was being lulled into the belief that maybe this was workable. Baby steps, but workable. And the more she wanted to pick her mom's brain for mommy knowledge, as so many other daughters did after the birth of their own children.
"Mom," she said softly, Blake nursed back in her arms after her mother had gotten up to make them both a cup of tea. "I... Do you ever stop worrying that you're not doing it right?" she asked, needing to hear her mom telling her that it was okay... That she was a great mom, and all moms worried. "I mean, I spend every waking moment worrying if his crib is right, if I'm buying the right diapers, the right formula..."
Her mom stopped her right there with a laugh, as if Liz had just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard, and Liz tilted her head to one side in confusion. "What's so funny?"
"The right formula? Elisabeth, there is no right formula for a baby. You know that. Breast is best. Why would you feed him formula?" The judgement was right there, written all over her mother's face, and Liz could feel her heart sinking. It was as if just that one thing alone in her mother's eyes made her a horrible mother, and she didn't know how to deal with that feeling.
Tears stung her eyes as she clutched Blake close to her chest. She would do anything to protect him and keep him safe... anything at all. "Why would I feed him formula? Because I listened to you, and tried breastfeeding. I wanted him to have the best. What mom doesn't want that for her baby? But it wasn't enough for him. He wasn't growing like he was supposed to, and he needed something else." She felt like she was choking on her words, but she had to say them.
"That's why you see a lactation specialist. It's bad enough that you couldn't do anything else as the Lord intended... Conceived him out of wedlock with some atheist from England, had a c-section, which deprives him of antibodies he could only get from natural birth, you haven't even talked to the pastor about having him baptized yet, and now you're depriving him of even more immune building by feeding him formula? You know better, Elisabeth." Every word stung, filled with the scorn of a disapproving mother, and Liz felt sure she was going to fall apart any minute.
But she didn't. She held it together, carefully holding her son against her chest, and gave her mother the bitchiest glare she could manage. "My son was conceived by two adults who became loving parents the moment they first saw him. He was delivered by C-section because he was in distress and if he hadn't been, he would've died. He will never be baptized because he doesn't need Jesus in his business... My son won't grow up like Lewis and I did. He won't be afraid to tell me about his life because he thinks I'll judge him. He will know that whoever he is, whether he grows up to be the biggest, burliest, straightest guy on the face of the earth, or the most flamboyant gay queen to ever prance in a Pride parade in fairy wings and hot pants, his parents are going to love him until they draw their last breaths. And yes. I'm feeding him formula. Breast is best. I know that. I know that there are antibodies in my milk that can't be replicated in formula. But I also know that if I keep him off formula, he'll waste away and die, and fuck you for thinking that doing things the right way, even if it kills my son, is the way the Lord intended. Fuck you for thinking my baby is less beautiful and wanted than any of your other grandkids because Cameron and I aren't married. Fuck you. Just... Fuck you. Don't ever ask me to see him again, unless you're coming prepared to apologize for being such a self-righteous bitch. I'll be raising him the way I see fit with his father, who loves him, and his flaming homo uncles who are more family to him than anyone genetically related to his mom. Fuck you. Fuck Dad. Fuck Pastor Joe. Fuck all of you, because Blake deserves better."
She didn't look at her mother again, not caring to see the stunned shock on her face as Liz gathered her son's diaper bag over one shoulder and her keys in her hand to storm out the front door, slamming it behind her.
liz harrison || original character