Man Made-First Part Sample-Looking for feedback

“Belly up to the bar little mama, that baby aint gonna feed himself!” Nurse Shelly shouted while shoving its face into my already significantly engorged right mammary gland. I was Eighteen in shock and wanted to go home.
How can she really expect me to care for this creature by feeding it my nipples!? I thought to myself. It fed for almost Fifteen minutes, it knew exactly what to do, ME not so much.
“Good job Stevie, now its time to burp your precious baby. Dont forget to support the head, dont want his neck to crack!” She warned me.
Shelly looked as if she had a few kids and this wasn’t her first rodeo. Her, out of all the nurses, was surprisingly my favourite. She wasn’t one to sugar coat anything and her tips and tricks actually worked. Shelly worked the night shift and seemed to enjoy it. I believed in my mind that she was divorced with four kids who were all off to college so loneliness helped her genuinely enjoy the company of her patients. I was probably wrong but the thought was comforting. Her appearance was a restful grandma who had all the patience in the world. She had dark black hair that looked uncomfortably pulled back into a pony tail that made her eyes appear thinner and longer. She always wore playful, bright scrubs that made me feel like I was in a pediatric unit, this was unexpectedly comforting. Her presence made you feel like she had all the answers so I tried my hardest to learn what she attempted to teach me. Shelly going home after her shift, always triggered anxiety for me. I was petrified I was going to do something wrong without her there to assure me im doing it sufficiently. The other nurses were younger, prettier and looked as if they didn’t make bad life choices like me. I tried to fake that I knew what I was doing when Shelly would leave. My teenage brain at the time told me they were laughing about how horrid I looked and how stupid I was. It was bad enough they had to sponge bath my ravaged body after my C-section, my pride was non existent so I held on to what I could. Growing up in a small town, everyone knew everyone so I gave them as little as possible to gossip about.
Falling pregnant at Seventeen was never my life goal, far from it actually. The first time I had sex I was Fourteen and I thought sex was much different than what it was. I fell madly in love with my first real boyfriend, Adam. He used to hold my hand in the hallways at school and write me love letters that made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. Little did I know I was rebound from his first love who he cheated on me with a significant amount of times. Nevertheless, I dove head first and emerged myself into toxic love that was always written off as “puppy love”. Adam knew he had me and was quick to remind me how easily he could sleep with other girls. Every other girl became competition and I learned very easily how to bully anyone who posed as a threat to my relationship. Adam continuously cheated on me and I was to head over heels to do anything about it. He could have done anything to me and as long as I didn’t lose him, I stayed put. He was handsome and he played that card better than any texas poker player around. Rumour was he used steroids because his body at Fifteen matched that of a successful body builder. Excelling at every sport he played didnt help his ego either and fuelled his desire to be noticed. Adam’s home life wasn’t ideal, he never knew his biological Dad and his step Dad was not the nicest at times. He craved attention from other girls just like I craved attention from him. I felt like I hit the jackpot when he noticed me for the first time. I had just finished gym and went into the hallway to slurp a sip of water from the community germ infested water fountain when I looked up to see Adam waiting behind me for a drink.
“Save some for the rest of us” he joked.
“Pfffft. Ya OK” I said insecurely. My insecurities made me such a bitch. Instead of utilizing his joke to flirt, I froze and was rude, this was my go to at that age.
“It’s a joke, Steeeeevie. I always see you around, why dont you ever say Hi?”
“I dont know you so why would I say hi to a stranger?” My anxiety replied.
“Names Adam. There, now you know me.”
I smiled and ran to my next class being careful not to let him know I was interested. Lying to Adam came easy, I knew exactly who he was. The last year of my life was spent watching him and his ex girlfriend hand in hand around school. My adolescent mind was jealous-I wanted to feel loved and love like that. I had no clue what I was getting myself into; I was nieve and impetuous. The next 3 years of my life with Adam were spent crying on bathroom floors, calling his phone relentlessly until he answered and fighting for his attention. I sculpted myself into what I thought Adam wanted and stopped living for myself and started living for him. Adam was my first taste of love and it molded me into the doormat lover I later became. I was as shocked as he was when I suddenly left him at the tender age of Sixteen for a more mature Twenty-Four year old that casually noticed me.
“Its been 3 hours Stevie, time to feed him” I heard as a familiar face woke me. it was my Mom, she was my saving grace as a teen mom and I have never needed her more. She was close to my age when she had my older sister but she didnt have a Mothers love to support her like I did. She recognized the hard road I was choosing and did everything she knew to do to try and stop it but as a teen in love, it fell on deaf ears. She could have easily turned to me and said “I told you so Stevie” but instead without judging, she supported me so I could support her new grandson. A new respect for my over looked Mom came to light and for the first time ever, I understood her.
My life has officially been put on a strict Three hour schedule. Every Three hours I have to feed this crying creature that for some reason I am emotionally attached to. Every Three hours no matter what, I have to be ready to do what is needed to help this baby survive. Ive never had responsibility like this, overwhelming is an understatement. Its been Twenty-Four hours since I was abducted by aliens and had a baby cut out of me. Everything hurts and I’m terrified to look down at the remanents of what used to be my body. I dont trust myself, I’m not ready. I have always been the clumsy one, the careless one, the one that you DON’T let hold your new born baby out of fear I would hold it wrong or worse- drop it.
For Nine months I worried about the pain of the labour, the fear of pain eclipsed my brain so much that the thought of after labour was non existent. I really believed that labour itself was the hard part, I was so wrong. I now hold the title MOM. A tiny little human is depending on me to LIVE, the mere thought is debilitating. I really believed it would all come natural, that there would be fireworks and rainbows… teenagers are so dumb. My once convenient life welcomed a seven pound three ounce intruder that now dictates my sleep, my mood, my hygiene, my relationships with other people, my freedom, my appearance and well… everything. What they dont tell you about being a new mother is that panic sets in after the drugs they give you kick out. You now, if youre lucky, love this unknown off spring that demands your undivided attention. Your body is left in ruins ;torn open and then ripped apart just to have a baby placed on your chest as a souvenir you get to take home and care of for the rest of your life.
“I dont care what you name him as long as he has my last name” Tom said as calm as a mill pond. He was ready to be a Dad.
“Okay, Welcome to the world Oliver Brandt.”

I’m not sure what is worst, staying in the hospital for Nine days after giving birth for the first time or being sent home alone after being in the hospital for Nine days with a new baby for the first time. It felt criminal trusting me to take care of this baby by myself. Everything in me wanted to beg Shelly the nurse to come home with me but I had to wear a brave face not only for me but for everyone around me. It was time to grow up and I had to show them all I could play the part.
The first night home with Oliver was complete hell. Oliver slept through the first night but I didn’t sleep a wink. My anxieties and panic hit an all time high and even suicidal thoughts lingered. I was ashamed of my feelings and told no one, not even Tom. Instead, I retreated to a dark room in our basement with a bed and screamed into a pillow until I saw the sun rise. Thankfully, Tom set an alarm on his phone and got up with Oliver every Three hours to bring him to me to feed; he was such a good Dad. Thanks to Toms Mother, Sandy, all of our meals were made and waiting for us when we got home. Sandy was a real life Martha Stewart, her cooking couldnt be matched. She was cleaner than Mr. Clean himself. She, like Tom, took over a lot of Olivers care at first while I just “existed”.
The first morning after Oliver was home, I decided it was time to shower. I had not officially looked at myself in the mirror since having the C-section and knew I had to face the music of what my body looked like. I will never forget facing the long mirror in our room while undressing. I tried to let my hair down and throw on lip gloss to “dress up” my body a little before taking my clothes off. I really believed I was going to see my insides on the outside and prepared for the worst. My first reaction was shock, it looked as if the new body I was in now ate the old body I was in prior. Long red streaks plagued my body, it was worse than I imagined. My nipples looked colossal, there was not a place there wasnt a collection of fat pushing against connective tissue beneath my skin. I turned my back to the mirror to see flaps of skin and fat assembled on top of eachother hanging like draped curtains from my shoulder blades. My once perky buttocks was riddled with cottage cheese dimples that could be seen with any tight pant. My skin wrinkled like I was held captive in a hot tub for Seventy two hours. I portrayed someone who had been mauled by a bear that chewed me up and then threw me in a river to die. I was happy for the soaked dressing that covered my horrendous scar, out of sight out of mind I remembered thinking. In that moment, I was convinced I would never love myself again and would never be desirable to any man ever again. This was a major turning point in my postpartum depression, If only I knew then what I know now. Being a teenager who had always prided herself on being skinny, this was absolute devastation for me. I quickly showered and re dressed, hiding the massacre I once called my body.
“Babe, everything all right?” Tom asked, standing outside the locked door.
“IM FINE! CAN YOU NOT?” I shouted. The thought of him coming in and seeing me naked was debilitating.
“Whats wrong? Are you sure you are okay?” He insisted.
Tom retreated, unimpressed by my attitude. I just wanted to be left alone, I was ashamed and wanted to fix this before opening up to Tom again. This was one of the first arguments we had as a couple.
I lied to Tom about my age when we first met and as he liked to say “tricked him” into believing I was older. I was still dating Adam when I met Tom at a mature house party. Adam was crushed when I effortlessly left him for Tom. He spent most of his nights begging for me back; I almost enjoyed the revenge, it looked good on him for once. It didnt matter anyway, I was now head over heels for Tom and nothing Adam could do or say would change that. Tom was older, established and intriguing to me. He was tall with light blond hair and fair skin. He wasn’t overly handsome which made me feel secure; I didn’t feel he would cheat on me as easily as Adam did. Tom was reserved and kept to himself for the most part, he liked to stay in and give me more attention than I was used to in the beginning. He was also cheated on in his past and I felt that connected us.
Saying my parents were upset would be an understatement when I moved in with Tom in a matter of months. I was Sixteen and in REAL love this time, puppy love was a thing of the past. I got a job at a local train station and began making what I thought was reasonable money. He on the other hand, made triple what I did working at a local factory that was ran by the Brandts. He never kept track of that though, he really made me feel like whats his was mine and vice versa. When I became pregnant we werent surprised, we might have been careless but we were in love and excited. Tom was working the day I found out, I remember shaking as I called him to tell him the news. I could have waited for him to get home but I was anxious to know his reaction.
“So…” I said Excitingly.
“Yeah?” He was never a man of many words.
“Im Pregnant, do you want to keep it or no?” I asked.
“Yeah, lets keep it.”
And that was that. We began painting Olivers room and found out as soon as we could the gender. When we found out Oliver was a boy I imagined him looking just like Tom and having Toms mannerisms. I was excited to have a little Tom running around calling me Mommy. I had no idea what being a parent entailed but I thought no matter what, love would fix it all. I really felt like my life was perfect, I didnt think it got any better than this.
After a few weeks of Oliver being home, Sandy started taking him over night on the weekends, this gave me the freedom to be a teenager again on the weekends- something I felt I was robbed of. I started going to bars with old friends who werent Moms and tried to push this feeling of depression as far down as possible. I started to use going out and drinking as a crutch and became selfish. I hired a personal trainer and was determined to lose this weight as fast as possible. I used to tell Tom I was doing this for him even though he always reassured me he loved me regardless of my size or appearance. The more I started to focus on my appearance, the less I focused on Oliver and Tom. I began to live a double life on the weekends, drinking, going out with my friends and getting noticed by guys with fresh eyes. The more weight I lost, the more obsessed I became with hiding that whale of a body I saw that day in the mirror. I was tormented with my body image and did everything to run away from being that undesirable Mom. It was only a matter of time before I started cheating on Tom. Young, reckless and partying always leads to bad choices but at the time I just wanted to feel like me again and having fun helped that. It started out as innocent flirting with anyone who would look my way to full scale sex with guys I barely knew. I would lie to Tom about who I was with, where I was going, anything I needed to say to get my next fix of attention from other men. I used to tell myself its only sex and that I wouldnt get emotionally attached to anyone because that would be the ultimate betrayal. I would have my fun on the weekends and play Mom on the weekdays until my party time started to leak into the weekdays. Tom, who stayed home and catered to Olivers every need was slowly starting to become boring. That once intriguing Twenty-Four year old was now an uneventful, monotonous old man in my crude eyes and a far cry from when we first met. I convinced myself this lifestyle was sustainable… that was until I met Ash.

***The book will be approximately 30 chapters when finished. Open to thoughts and constructive criticism :slight_smile: ***

Thank you for the feedback, I appreciate it immensely :slight_smile:
I did want it to sound as if it was my personal diary, it is all based on my life so the in-between segments are my thoughts at the time.
Definitely going to cut out some detail and identify my main character more as well as major conflict :slight_smile:

Again, I very much appreciate the feedback.

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Love this! I have actually decided to make this Chapter 2 and am working on Chapter 1 :slight_smile: