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NOOR

“Happy birthday to me,” I sing under my breath, holding Zayn close to my body as I tighten the straps of the baby wrap.

We are going on an adventure together today. As expected, my POTS symptoms are back, though not as terribly as they once were. My migraines are kept at bay for the most part with my medications, my cardiologist and neurologist work closely together, and Dr. Taleigh gave me the implant after Zayn was born to get rid of my period completely.

It’s not perfect, but it’s a fuckton better than it’s ever been.

There’s a collapsible stool in my diaper bag in case I need a break, a fan on a retractable cord attached to a strap to cool me down, and a water bottle in my pouch. Rachelle bought me a car before she left, and I’m currently taking driving lessons to be more mobile. While I love my neighborhood and how central it is to everything I need, I don’t want to be stuck for any reason.

If Zayn and I need to jump into the car and get the fuck out, we can. I’m learning how to drive for safety reasons.

“Let’s go check your seat, sweetheart,” I murmur, tying off the last knot as I stand slowly. I walk over to the hallway mirror and check my twists, finding that Zayn is comfortable as he gives me a gummy smile. “You’re so happy, huh?”

I grab my diaper backpack with our supplies, make sure I have my keys, and slip out of the apartment. The door locks immediately behind me to keep anyone from following me when I get home, and I begin walking toward the elevator. This apartment was picked out for safety as well as comfort.

I love everything about it except that my family isn’t here. They all called me to say happy birthday this morning and Rachelle mentioned I have a surprise coming. I have no idea what this means, but it’s a Tuesday and everyone is working.

Zayn is gaining weight, he sleeps well, and he breastfeeds like a dream. He had a tongue tie when he was born that made things difficult starting out, but Dr. Taleigh noticed it while she was helping me nurse him. I’m so lucky she’s my doctor. I’ve had some horror birth stories come through my internet feed recently, and I shudder to think how different it could have been without her.

She refused to allow the nurses in at all during the first few hours after delivery. I had all the bonding time possible, in peace and got to see my family once I was cleaned up a bit. I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.

I’m heading to a breakfast cafe to pick up a protein shake, and then Zayn and I have a Mommy and Me yoga class. It’s something my therapist suggested and my cardiologist agreed might help. I’ve gone twice before this and I like it.

The pace is slow and leisurely, while keeping the focus on the baby. I get to make silly faces at him, and the last time, he fell right to sleep while listening to the music. San Diego has tons of things to do, and I’m willing to try anything that won’t kill me at least once.

There will be no skydiving from this girl. I’ve had enough flying through the air without a parachute for a lifetime.

The fall breeze is nice as I walk, and I’m wearing pink compression socks underneath my yoga pants today. They’re cheerful and comfortable. I’m hoping they keep the sads away today. I’m nineteen, I’m as healthy as I can expect to be.

There’s nothing I can possibly complain about so I won’t.

The line isn’t long at the cafe, and I hum happily as I sip my drink once I receive it.

“Thank you,” I murmur, smiling at the barista. “This is perfect.”

I had coffee when I woke up with a piece of gluten free toast, but the smoothie will help me keep up with my plans today. It also gives me the caloric intake I need to feed my baby.

“We should do tummy time in the park,” I murmur as we leave the cafe. I have a blanket in my backpack I can use, and it’ll tire him out pretty quickly. At three months old, he sleeps a lot.

I usually paint while he sleeps. Sometimes he’ll nap in the wrap while I work, and others he snores in the play pen.

The fall breeze blows around me as I walk down the street, and I cradle the back of Zayn’s head despite knowing the wrap is supporting him properly. I can’t help it. I check his breathing while he sleeps, breathe in his milky baby scent, and stare at him in awe.

I never thought I’d be a mother, not after my parents’ murder-suicide. I didn’t think I could handle the responsibility, but we’ve been doing pretty well together.

“Good morning, Isla,” the receptionist says as I enter the rec center.

I’m trying to get used to my new name. I hate that it’s necessary, but “Noor” is a very memorable name.

“Good morning,” I reply with a smile. “Do I need to sign in?”

“No, I’ll handle it,” Andy says. “Go get settled and drink some water.”

Everyone here knows standing for long periods of time is my kryptonite. I’ve come to a few of these classes, and they immediately ask if you need any accommodations. No one says I’m being dramatic or gives me odd looks for how young I am. It’s my safe place, and I’m trying to muster up the courage to speak to the coordinator about teaching drawing classes for kids.

I may try after my class if I feel up to it. Emil always tells me I should enjoy life and get more involved. I’m really trying while still managing my POTS. I never want to let someone down because I can’t get out of bed one day.

At least I can snuggle Zayn in bed and nurse him in case I need to take it easier. I simply don’t want to limit our world due to my pain levels. Ugh, I’ve been doing so well, I don’t want to borrow trouble.