Chapter 10: Another shopping trip

Me and Jenny walked back into the room — or rather, I waddled — and Scott looked up from the TV.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jenny said, brushing him off. "I'll fill you in later."

I sat down carefully, and the difference hit me immediately. If I thought wearing a pull-up was noticeable, this was worse — way worse. Every shift of my weight reminded me what I had on and how tightly it hugged me. I kept my eyes on the TV, pretending everything was normal, pretending I wasn't falling apart.

Jenny stepped out to make a phone call. She was gone for a long time.

By the time she came back, the nurses were getting Katie ready for discharge. They fitted her for crutches, explained how to use them, and then we packed up. I walked behind everyone, trying to hide my awkward steps and the outline under my shorts. Thankfully, everyone was focused on Katie.

In the parking lot, Jenny told Scott, "You take the van with the kids. I'll take the SUV — me and Jake still have errands."

I didn't know if I should feel relieved or terrified.

Jonny insisted on going with her, so she let him. She even helped me into the SUV, even though I didn't need the help. My face burned.

We drove back toward town, and some small relief hit me when she pulled into Target. Okay. Cool. Normal stuff. Room décor. Maybe today wouldn't be a total disaster.

Inside, she buckled Jonny into the cart seat, then looked at me.

"Hold onto the side of the cart. Don't let go."

Her tone was different now. Not mean — just firm. Final.

We walked to the bedding aisle, and she let me pick out the Spider-Man stuff I wanted. For a moment, I felt almost okay again. Almost happy.

We checked out, and I was excited to go home, set up my room, decompress.

But instead of heading home, we pulled into a store I'd never seen before.

And when we walked in, my stomach dropped.

Everywhere — baby supplies. But big. Too big to be for actual babies. Big onesies. Big shortalls. Big cribs. Big car seats. Everything oversized.

A young employee greeted us. "Hi! What can I help you with today? Are we shopping for this little guy?" She ruffled Jonny's hair.

"No," Jenny said. "For this little guy." She patted my head.

The employee hesitated, then smiled politely — like she'd helped kids my size before and knew better than to react.

They started talking options. Talking about me like I wasn't even there.

It was shocking how fast I was downgraded into toddler mode.

Even Jonny frowned, confused. "Mommy... dat too big for me," he said, pointing at a giant onesie. "An' I don' wear dipees 'cept beddy time."

"These aren't for you, sweetie," Jenny said gently.

He looked at me, puzzled. "Jakie too big for dose... right?"

He wasn't teasing — he was genuinely trying to understand. That made it worse.

We walked the aisles, every step on my crinkly padding echoing in my ears. Jenny told the employee:

"He's been having bladder and bathroom problems the last couple days, and I'm at my wits' end."

"I understand," the woman said. "Is he peeing or is he pooping?"

My entire body tensed. A total stranger was casually discussing my accidents like it was nothing.

"Both, actually," Jenny said. "We had him in pull-ups, but that just isn't going to work out, so we—"

Her voice faded as panic punched me in the stomach. The employee was already placing a giant box of Pampers Size 6 into the cart.

Not nighttime use.

All day.

"Uh... Jenny?" I said quickly. "We already have two full bags of pull-ups."

"Yes," she said calmly, "which I'll save for when you graduate back to them. But right now you need more protection."

My head dropped. I felt sick. This had to be a nightmare.

They kept going — baby powder, diaper cream, wipes — and then came the clothes.

Onesies. Footie pajamas. Bigger pants to fit over diapers.

No way. She wasn't seriously planning to—

"Why Jakie need all dat?" Jonny whispered, confused and almost worried.

"Because he's having some trouble," Jenny said gently. "And we're helping him."

Jonny processed that silently, then held onto the cart and stayed quiet.

We turned into another aisle — big car seats and big high chairs with leg straps like baby ones, just sized up.

How could this store even exist? Then I remembered: kids with disabilities. That made sense.

But Jenny didn't hesitate.

She asked two employees to grab a car seat and a high chair, and they carried the boxes away to ring them up. My heart stopped.

She wasn't serious.

She couldn't be.

At checkout, the employee asked, "Would you like to add a pacifier or sippy cups? We have options for bigger kids."

I waited for Jenny to laugh.

She didn't.

She thought about it. Really thought about it.

"Jenny," I whispered, panicked. "Seriously?"

"They help some kids calm down," she said. "You've had a rough day."

A "rough day." Sure. Let's call it that.

Jenny paid, thanked the employee, and then had the nerve to look at me.

"What do you say to the nice lady?"

I swallowed my pride so hard it hurt. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, kiddo," the woman said, smiling.

Outside, everything boiled over.

"Why did you buy all that stuff?!" I shouted as soon as we reached the car.

"Because you need it," Jenny said.

"For what?! Why a CAR SEAT? Why a pacifier?! Why any of this?!"

"The onesie makes changes easier. The pacifier helps you stay calm. The car seat keeps you safe."

"That's not— none of that—" I stammered. "I'm telling Amanda!"

"Go ahead," Jenny said sharply. "She and I already talked. At the hospital."

My legs nearly gave out.

That was it. My last hope — gone.

I didn't fight anymore. I just walked — or waddled — to the car.

The workers had finished loading everything. Jenny opened the door, and the new car seat was already installed.

She thanked them and they left. Then she lifted me — lifted me — into the seat. I tried one last protest.

"Why do I have to sit in this?"

"It's safer for you," she said simply.

I sank into silence. Completely defeated.

She guided my arms into the straps, buckled my chest, then reached under me for the bottom buckle — which I hadn't even noticed I was sitting on because of the padding. She clicked it into place and tightened everything until I couldn't move.

Jonny watched, wide-eyed. Curious. Confused. Not judging — just trying to understand.

Jenny buckled him in next, and we drove home.