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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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By PamperedPrince · Posted
Chapter 19: My First Birthday (Again) A warm ray of sunlight touched my eyes again. How long has it been? How long has it been since I just gave up? Days. Weeks. Months. And since I was just a baby again, there was no telling just how much time had passed by. But I was happy. I had to be. I…I was used to it. Used to being coddled every single day by my mother. Used to getting my diaper changed every morning. Used to being breastfed and rocked in my mother’s lap. Used to my naps and my regularly scheduled tummy time. Used to trying to push myself up until I could sit. Used to trying to crawl. Used to being told bedtime stories. Used to being given baths with my twin sister. Yes. Abby was my twin sister. My mother said so. Now would my mother ever lie to me? Used to being held in my mother’s arms. Used to being fed warm milk from a baby bottle. Used to playing with my toys. The fun colorful shapes that I tried to force through the different holes. Someday I’ll figure out the right holes but it was all very exciting to me now. Used to trying to grab the couch and balance myself enough to stand. Used to making short and stubby steps around the vast living room with the help of the furniture. They were my steps and I was very proud of them. Used to putting all my teething toys in my mouth. Used to grabbing various things that I saw to see if they could go in my mouth. My mother had had to take these things away from me for some reason. Used to being pushed in the stroller with my twin sister on warm days when my mother took us to the park. Used to riding in the shopping cart when my mother needed new groceries. Used to bath time with my sister. I was used to it. All of it. This was my new life. A tragic life that I slowly accepted as my own. But fortunately, I wasn’t alone. My sister Abby shared that life with me. As small as my body was, I almost forgot that I was really just sixteen years old. Wait. Was I still sixteen? That didn’t matter anymore. I was a baby now. Gabby was a baby with me. We were trapped. Both of us. THUAK! My head hit the railing of the crib that I was still sitting in. I could see my sister in the crib beside me. But then I felt the pain from hitting the railing. And as much as I tried to fight the tears, the sensation was just too great for me to take. “WAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” I cried, now used to hearing my helpless infantile wail. The door creaked open and my mother picked me up. “What’s wrong, my Gab Gab?” My mother chirped in her syrupy sweet voice. “Oh dear! That’s quite the bump! Did you hit your head again? That’s not a very good birthday gift at all, hun.” I gasped. Birthday? It’s my birthday? “12 months, my Gabbycadabry. You and Abbycadabry. My twin girls are a year-old today.” One year. It has been one year since it happened. One year since I drank the milk. One year since I became a newborn again. But…I somehow thought of my old memories of when I used to be a teenager. My homework. My genealogy assignment. What did the teachers say? Did my mother just cover it all up like she did with everything else? “Both of you girls are probably very very hungry.” My mother said with a smile. “But Gabby, here. There is no need to cry, hun. Here’s your pacie. There you go.” I was still crying. I was so used to it that I didn’t even realize how red my face was. Crying was a normal part of life for me now. “Pee yew, Gabby! It looks like my little Gabby needs a new diaper!” And so it continued. Continued like it always has. I cast a curious glance at my mother to notice something different about her. Is it me, or does my mother look like a teenager now? Maybe at least 18 or 19. Did she try to make herself younger again? Perhaps she used a little bit too much of the youth formula by mistake. Yeah. I could see it. The hormone ridden face of my younger mother. How could she pass for a doctor at Harvard now? That is not my problem, but my mother’s. My only problem is the messy diaper that she has to change before I cry again. My mother changed my diaper and put a fresh one on me. She put me back into my pajamas and sat me in my playpen while she changed my twin sister. Yeah. I have entirely given up on saying that Gabby is not my twin, considering how many times my mother said that we were twins. True or not, it’s my mother’s word now. After my sister was changed, my mother sat us both in a rocking chair. We sat on her lap, while each of us latched onto one of her breasts. Yes. I was now even used to the taste of my mother’s breast milk. It was sweet like it always has been. What I love the most is how my mother doesn’t discipline me or my sister anymore. We are just babies so we don’t know anything about rules yet. All we get at this age is her love and her care. And I appreciated this more than any of the painful spankings that I got as a teenager. If it has really been a year, then it has been a year since I have been in the west wing of the Rivers Estate. At this point, the east wing now looked more lived in with my mother taking care of me and my sister there. Our highchairs were set up in the kitchen in that wing, along with everything else that my mother used to take care of me and my sister. After my mother finished nursing me and Abby, she got us out of our footed sleepers and dressed us both in matching pink and frilly dresses. For me and Abby, everything matched. After all, we were twins, so everything had to match. And despite it being a lie, everyone in public believed it. And with a year of it myself, I started to believe it. I pulled myself up again, lining my stubby legs up against the seat of the couch. The folds of my frilly pink dress covered part of my legs, as I struggled to maintain my balance. But then my legs gave way. They both wobbled as I began to crash to the floor. Abby, however, was beginning to steady herself and even began making a few tiny strides towards my mother. “My little Abby is learning to walk!” My mother cooed. “12 months and she is starting to walk!” That’s when I realized the chilling reality of my twin sister. She really was my older sister, and this was probably her fourth time that she has learned how to walk. Feeling jealous, I use the couch again to steady my legs but quickly lost my balance after letting go. This is pathetic. 12 months old. One year old and I can’t even walk! Maybe if my mother didn’t coddle me so much, I would’ve been walking a couple of months ago! Frustrated, I watched my sister Abby walk all the way into my mother’s arms. “Good job, Abs!” My mother said with a smile. She then cast a compassionate stare at me. “Don’t worry, Gabby. You’ll learn to walk very soon. Maybe not on your birthday, but maybe in another week or two. Aw, you’re so close! So close. Yes. But then another thought crept into my mind. So close. I was so close to escaping with my sister a year ago. So close to leaving the Rivers Estate for good. So close to reporting my mother to the police. So close. But sadly, that was my old life. My new life is enjoying the comfort that my mother gives to me and my sister. No consequences. No punishments. Just love. And best of all, I got to share that with my twin sister. The lie was working too well. That night, my mother fed me and Abby colorful carrots with pasta and mashed potatoes. Two raspberry vanilla smash cakes sat on the trays of both of our highchairs. Each of the two cakes had one unlit candle, which my mother obviously didn’t light since she didn’t want either of us to burn our fingers on the candle, even if she were to blow it out. My mother hugged both me and Abby as she began to sing: Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you Happy birthday dear Abigail and Gabrielle Happy birthday to you! “And many morrrrrrrrrrrreeeeee!” My mother sang, holding the last sustained note for a few seconds. “Okay, my girls. Help yourself to that cake!” And that’s what I did. I dug both my hands into the raspberry vanilla smash cake and shoved the pieces into my mouth, giving my mother the biggest smile after I did. Abby too showed a similar smile to mine. Both our faces were completely covered in the smash cake but we were both babies and we didn’t care. The pieces were falling down our faces as we smeared the frosting all over our cheeks, with a couple of the raspberries splattering on our chins. “You both like it?” My mother chirped. “Good. Let’s get you all ready for bed.” My mother got us both ready for bed. She gave me and Abby a bath and got us both into nighttime diapers and matching faded pink footed sleepers. But it wasn’t bedtime yet. Instead, my mother had a small pile of presents for both me and Abby. It was more toys. More dresses. More onesie rompers. More pacifiers. More bibs. One present was a nice blanket that was big enough to cover me and my sister. All the clothes that both me and Abby got matched since we were twins. After the gifts were opened, my mother began to tell us a bedtime story, while she stuck a new pacifier in my mouth and in Abby’s. After that, I felt like I was about to fall asleep. But I was on my mother’s lap again. Abby was beside me. Both of my mother’s breasts were fully exposed. One for me and one for my sister. The nighttime nursing began, and I drank my fill of my mother’s breast milk. Like all other days and nights, I was used to it. Used to the formerly new routine that now felt normal. It was all normal. My old life was gone. My teenage life felt like a former memory that felt almost false and dream-like. This was my life now. I…was a baby now. My sister was a baby again. I was just about fast asleep when my mother placed me in my crib. Of all the things that I had to figure out, one thing was certain. I was going to walk again. I wasn’t about to be outdone by my twin. Sooner or later, I was going to walk if it was the last thing that I did. It seems that way. Hopefully, the girls will encounter them sooner or later. I'm not going to say when but they will appear later on. -
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I don't want to lose all control; but I would choice diapers over a bag. If I had no way to get diapers and I worked I would give the bag a try. I WOULD NOT LIKE IT.
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