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I suppose I’m glad I don’t remember all the details, I’m sure that if I did, I’d be really screwed up between the memories of birth and breastfeeding and the ones that would surely be how I died. As it is, it’s an awful lot like trying to remember a drunk night out the next morning, I recall being an adult, living my very average life then there’s a few hazy memories of what I assume was my last day as my previous self and then, boom, great big blank space and it was like I woke up as a baby being convinced by some lady to ‘try the airplane, honey, it’s yummy’.
I suppose there were worse potential afterlives that could have existed, human reincarnation beats the pants off some of those other options…
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OK here are some of the things I have concluded after what I believe has been roughly a month of me being aware of this new life:
1. Lady who was feeding me was in fact my new mother. She seems nice, but given that I am her offspring it would be a really shitty hand to have her be anything less.
2. My name is Emma, or at least I hope it’s just Emma and not Emma-honey as that’s what I usually get called by Mum, though people be calling their kids strange things which include mathematical figures so I haven’t ruled out having a terrible hyphenated name just yet.
3. Based on new mum’s accent I’m apparently an American this time around (should I be saying mom? Nah too much to think about all things considered), which is strange to think about, but at least no crisis of having to work out a foreign language while being trapped in an infant body (can’t image the added stress if I had to wrap my head around Mandarin or Greek or something on top of reincarnation).
4. No new dad in sight for this whole month, so either he’s got some long-distance job like long haul trucker, or he’s a deadbeat. Judging by the lack of my new mum’s mentioning of him leads me to believe he’s not going to be coming home any time soon.
5. Being aware of adult capabilities does not give me the ability to do them.
That last point is perhaps the worst. The only interesting part is that you really learn about how much is nature and how much is nurture in this situation, let me explain. From what I can tell I’m not yet a year old, context clues from gushing other adults has me guessing I’m about 6 maybe 7 months old, but no concrete dates yet. Given my young age I have some very physical limitations, while I can hold my own head up, barring some very limited crawling I can’t really move around easily, regardless of my multiple decades’ worth of walking memories. I can recall speech and even understand everything being said around me, however try as I might I can’t for the life of me speak back yet.
But besides the physical limitations stifling my abilities my reactions to life are also restricted. My adult mind says ‘stay awake all day, sleep all night’ but my baby body goes ‘nah, existence is tiring so I need a nap now, but also don’t know how to fall asleep so must cry instead’, and later ‘no sleeping through the night, hungry time now cry again’.
Or my adult mind will say ‘The pea flavoured baby mush is almost bitter, I much prefer the carrot and sweet potato one, but Mum is obviously doing her best’ while my baby body says ‘Spit it out and scream, screw Mum for feeding me this, make yourself feel better by throwing the spoon on the ground’.
All in all, being a baby is very exhausting and the only true entertainment I’ve been getting is debating the best terrible first word to say, so far, a swear word that I couldn’t possibly know is the leading contender, I’ll leave you to ponder which curse word it could be, ha.
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I have abandoned the swear word idea.
Mum has taken me out a few times and we apparently live in a small town. An American small town. A Midwest American small town who collectively have apparently decided my Mum is a slut for having me with some random man who swept into and out of town.
New grandparents seem nice enough, though they do pester Mum about Dad every visit. It’s ‘Katie-dear have you had an update on baby’s dad’ or ‘Kate-love how are you coping, has you-know-who even tried to see her yet’. So, I learnt that Mum’s name is Kate and my name is absolutely just Emma and Mum has just adopted her parent’s tendency for cutesy nicknames.
Information I’ve learnt about Dad according to Mum’s responses to the interrogations:
1. Dad’s name is John, no last name known yet, though as I don’t even know my last name so far other than Mum gave me hers, so I’m not too worried.
2. He wasn’t a one-night stand. He was passing through and his car broke down (some sweet muscle car from Pa’s opinions on the matter). He and Mum had a 3-week long fling and he left his number – a real working one as Mum has called it twice since he left.
3. He knows I exist, has called several times to check in, and even sends money in the form of cash mailed semi regularly. He hasn’t visited yet though as he has a job which involves travelling a lot. Adult me wonders if we are the secret family he doesn’t tell his wife about, (will tell you all the tea once I know more details).
It seems that Mum is a nurse and has only managed to get maternity leave due to how small our town is, though it’s not paid. Coming from Australia in my last life, this is a truly horrifying thought and the first time I’ve truly thought about the struggles I’m probably going to end up having growing up in the US. I wonder if Mum will consider moving to Canada for the health care, as a nurse she’s got to know the costs long term?
Any way given all the crap Mum has gone through (and will go through) I’ve decided to use my last life’s knowledge to give her a genius child once I can. And my genius life starts with a full sentence for my first word(s). I’m even going to do it in front of others so that everyone will believe her and I’m definitely going to make sure that Granny is there. While Pa seems to be content with checking Mum is ok with dad being distant, Granny is the one directing the interrogations and passive aggressive comments Mum’s way, even while supporting her about how bad certain town gossips are.
So, I’ve settled on ‘I love you Mum’, because if people can get their dogs to say it, surely, I can swing it as a first words. Due to the lack of both my baby body and privacy I have been practicing each syllable separately and out of order so as not to have Mum overhear and have my surprise spoilt.
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I’m officially in my ninth month now, though maybe only 3 of those have I been aware of. I know this as Mum, Granny and Pa took me to the doctor recently and it was mentioned that it is the 9 month check in. I also learn my last name is Milligan as the check in desk calls us as the Milligan family with for baby Milligan’s check up.
The doctor prodded, weighed and measured me, then Mum was basically quizzed on my development. If I wasn’t a literal baby this would all be very invasive.
I’m happy to report I timed my first words impeccably. The doctor works at the same medical centre Mum works for, and the nurse assisting clearly is a massive gossip based on how eager she is to keep returning to the room to ‘support her new mum friend’. With Granny and Pa in attendance too it seems like the optimal crowd to wow with my fully formed sentence. I have every syllable perfected; I just need to string them together at the right time.
That time comes when the doc starts querying about my speech progress. When Mum reports no first word yet only baby babble, the doc consols her saying ‘they learn in their own time, some babies take longer and we shouldn’t start panicking until over a year old’, the nurse ‘friend’ is nodding along but even I can see the smirk on her face and even Granny seems to bristle at this reaction. So naturally this is my big moment, I start babbling and then make grabby hands at Mum’s face to draw proper attention and then “I wuv eww mah-muah”.
Not as flawless as I wanted, but I was close enough by the stunned silence and enthusiastic responses, chew on that small town gossips!
I think I’ll focus on walking now, if I can swing it before the end of the month I’ll be early according to the doctor.
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The year is 1988…
I don’t know how I feel about this, it’s certainly shifted a few concepts I had regarding my reincarnation. I’ve gone from thinking I was probably reborn a little after (if not immediately after) I died in my old life, to now questioning if I’m even in the same universe reality.
My old life I was born in 1989, and I was at least 30 when I died so it was the late 2010s when I died, though I can’t tell you the exact year any more as every day that goes by those memories are getting fainter and fainter (I’ve had that freak out already and am scrambling to memorize what I can if only to keep the child genius plans I have viable). Hence if it’s January 31st 1988 as per the live Super Bowl coverage that is currently playing while Pa is bouncing me on his knee, then either I’ve time travelled for my reincarnation or this is a different universe that runs slower than my last that I’ve been born into.
Mum returned to work shortly after the 9 month doctor visit, and as a nurse is regularly scheduled for Sunday shifts. Being a single mum, Kate Milligan drops me off with her parents whenever she has to work. On weekends and evenings Pa watches me though he works on the week days and I’m left as the ornament for my Granny as she dresses me in baby church clothes and drags me to her social club functions and rubbing my adorable full sentence talking, 10 months old and already walking self in their faces.
I’m beyond glad that it’s a Sunday that my existential crisis is happening on as Pa is watching me today and I don’t have to school my face as best I can for my hard-working single Mum, and I’m free to freak out internally unlike around the flocks of church ladies Granny parades me in front of. Pa is content to bounce me on his lap facing the TV and baby talk the rules of American football and how we are a Badgers family but we’re supporting the Redskins just for today as we don’t like the Broncos.
Spoiler if you ever plan on watching re-runs of the 1988 Super Bowl – Washington Redskins dominated. As I have no clue who won in my old life (as I was not born yet and not into US sports as an Australian) I can’t use this to work out if this is another universe or just the past yet, but I’ll keep an eye out from here on out.
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Dad showed up for the first time today, as birthday presents go, I’ve had worse.
I have the same birth day, even if the year is different now, March 8th – International Women’s Day. In my first life I was born a few days early, my old mum said that I wanted to be a strong woman so I timed it so I’d be reminded every birthday of the best women could be, maybe the timing for my second life means that I’ll need that strength again.
Anyway, Mum and the grandparents are having a small birthday party for me at a nearby park when He shows up. It’s mostly relatives and a few mothers from Mum’s mothers group, but considering I’m the out of wedlock child of a single mum in a small town, it’s a pretty good turnout.
Baby body is making it hard to focus on much as the bright colours, sparkling wrapping paper and very sweet cake are very overwhelming, but I do notice a man by himself on edge of the picnic area. Against all the pastels and neon 80s outfits of the party guests, his dark colour palette and dark brown leather jacket look out of place. Mum notices him too and hands me off to Granny as she discretely walks over to him for a hurried conversation. I do my best to watch but I get distracted by a spoon of cake being chew-chew-trained into my mouth by Pa, and when I remember to look up again Mum has returned looking happier than even before.
The next day he came to visit us properly. I was given a cabbage patch doll with bright yellow-blonde hair, wrapped in pink paper. He held me for a little bit and Mum talked at him about some mundane current event type topics, but I was distracted by the feeling that I knew my Dad from somewhere, maybe he was famous?
After a while Mum said Dad should have some time alone with me and he took me for a walk in the park near Mum’s house. I’ve decided I like Dad, he doesn’t speak to me in baby talk like everyone else does, rather he talks like I’m another adult person and after half a year of nothing but baby talk it’s very refreshing!
He apologizes for not being around and tells me I deserve a much better dad. He says he has a dangerous job and moves constantly so he can’t promise to be in my life much (maybe he’s military? Though I still can’t shake the feeling that his face is familiar like an actor or something), but he swears that he will do as much as he can to look after me and Mum as he does care for her and is pretty sure he loves me already. He doesn’t say anything else personal after that, just pointing at objects and talking to me about them (look a dog, do you like animals? There’s a tree and a bench; shall we sit for a little in the shade Emma?) but at least there’s no baby voice from him.
All in all, he’s only here for a few hours, then he drives off again, I don’t see him drive off but he and Mum go outside and I hear the deep throb of an engine, then Mum returns slightly rumpled and mussed – she got a goodbye kiss at least.
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It’s been over a year now since Dad visited, my second birthday has come and gone and this past year has been my first year of pre-school, and now it’s almost Halloween. I have high hopes for Halloween, as an Australian in my last life we didn’t really have Halloween but so many US movies and TV shows hyped them up, so a childhood where spooky season is a thing – hell yeah! Though the last year we didn’t do anything as a 1-year-old isn’t going to enjoy masks and is too young for candy, but 2-year-old me is already displaying 3-year-old milestones (full coherent sentences, walking and running, make-believe aka tea parties with my dolls, and more) so Mum is planning on taking me to her mother’s group’s Halloween play date. Granny made me an adorable costume, a ladybug dress with a spotty cape for wings and an antennae headband, and my damn kid instincts have me demanding to wear it every day.
Our Halloween plans are rousted when Dad show up. He takes me and Mum out for a lovely family dinner instead of the party, though I still get to wear my ladybug outfit to the restaurant.
Dad doesn’t seem to like Halloween much (though does give me my much-deserved compliments on my cute outfit). He also remarks about how advanced I am as well, and unlike most the comments seem more genuine, similar to how Jamie’s mum from the mother’s group talks about them. Jamie’s mum is Mum’s best friend and he has 3 older sisters so Jamie’s mum shares a lot of info with Mum about what to expect and how I’m ahead of all her brood when they were my age. I wonder if Dad has other kids too due to his comments, but he would surely mention that right?
Dad stays 2 nights at our place and leaves after a phone call on Thursday evening. Mum is ok but Granny is miffed that he didn’t stay for dinner. I distract them all by asking to wear my ladybug outfit to bed – I am denied but am given a bath with a new ladybug bath toy so my child side is content, my adult side is still convinced I recognize Dad from somewhere, I’m thinking actor maybe.