Another Way, Another Day

Chapter 9

(Silverstone Household, Morning of June 18th, 1994)

Amanda’s mother slowly opened her eyes as the morning sun danced across her face.  As her vision came into focus, she realized that she had fallen asleep on the rocking chair in Amanda’s nursery.  She looked down at the bundle of blankets in her arms, realizing she was no longer holding her daughter.  Her heartrate quickened as she looked around her, wondering where she was.  Then, she looked up at Amanda’s crib and saw her laying inside, her chest rhythmically rising and falling as she slept.  She then had a vague recollection of placing her daughter in the crib while she was half-asleep.  She rose from the rocking chair, then walked over to the crib.  She peered over the railing and saw her little girl, who was by now two years old.  This was Amanda’s final stop on her trip backwards.  From this day on, Amanda would begin to grow up again. 

She spent a few minutes staring down at her daughter, her heart melted by how innocent and peaceful she looked.  She wanted to let her sleep, but then noticed that her diaper was very wet.  It was also loose, as Amanda had gotten slightly smaller in her sleep.  She placed her fingers on her chest and gently rubbed it.

“Amandaaaaa…..time to wake uppppppp…..” she sang in a half-whisper. 

Amanda slowly opened her eyes, looking around the room and then at her mother.  A smile broke out across her face when she recognized the figure standing over her crib. 

“Momma……..Hi Momma……” she said in a sweetly groggy voice.

Rachel reached down into the crib, picking her daughter up and holding her close to her chest.  She kissed her cheek and walked her around the nursery as her sleepiness wore off.

“Diapuh wet mommah” she said, looking down at her Pamper and touching the front, which had gone from a light pink to a dull yellow.

“Mommy knows, honey.  She’s going to change your diaper right now and then feed you your breakfast, ok?” she said, taking Amanda to the changing table and sitting her on top of it.  She removed the little girl’s t-shirt, then laid her on her back.  She began to change Amanda’s wet diaper, wiping her clean and then powdering her and taping her into a fresh one that fit her new size. 

Unlike the first time she’d been diapered, Amanda watched everything her mother did.  The embarrassment and shame she had felt during her first changing was now replaced by curiosity and even slight enjoyment at the attention her mother was giving her.  Feeling her mother clean her and caress her skin made her feel loved and cared for as her mother smiled and cooed at her throughout the changing.

Now that Amanda was in a clean diaper, her mother decided it was time to dress her.  She helped her daughter into a light pink diaper cover, then put her hair in pigtails.  She then slid on an eggshell white t-shirt with pink bands on the collar and sleeves.  The t-shirt rode above Amanda’s diaper, hovering slightly above her bellybutton.  After admiring how adorable her daughter looked, she picked her up and carried her downstairs.

Amanda sat on the floor as her mother laid out a blanket with her toys and turned the TV on to Saturday morning cartoons.  Amanda sat on the floor, clutching Belle as DuckTales came on.  Her mother raised one of the baby gates she had purchased in front of the stairs, then went to the kitchen to begin making Amanda’s breakfast.  When she was finished, she quickly slipped into the garage and then returned with the highchair she had been hiding there. 

She walked to Amanda, picked her up and strapped her into the highchair, placing her breakfast in front of her.  Amanda looked down at the selection before her: oatmeal, chopped strawberries and sippy cup filled with orange juice.  Her stomach grumbled upon seeing the food, making her realize for the first time how hungry she was.  She began to eat with her fingers as her mother sat nearby, monitoring her as she sipped her morning coffee. 

As Amanda scooped another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, she began to feel pressure in her lower abdomen.  She leaned forward in her high chair, then passed gas loudly.  Her mother began to giggle and Amanda did too, amused by the funny noise she had made.  She continued to eat her breakfast, occasionally attempting to close her legs together as she explored what it felt like to be back in diapers.  She noticed how noisy her diapers were compared to her Pull-Ups.  It seemed that every time she moved, they would crinkle loudly.  Amanda soon found herself fidgeting just to hear the sound they made.  There was something reassuring about the noise, something that made her feel secure and safe.

When she was done with her breakfast, her mother wiped her face and lifted her out of the highchair, placing her on the ground.  Amanda toddled back over to her toys, sitting down and playing with Belle and the dollhouse that she had grown to love while her mother sat at the kitchen table and began to eat her breakfast. 

About thirty minutes later, Amanda’s mother noticed her daughter had squatted in front of the TV, her knees bent and her hands resting on the floor.  She realized what her daughter was doing and had in fact expected it: Amanda had always filled her diaper shortly after breakfast the first time she was a toddler. 

Amanda’s face reddened as she did her business.  Wetting was one thing, but pooping in her diaper while her mother watched once again caused feelings of embarrassment and vulnerability to well to the surface of her formerly placid emotional pool.  She felt the urge to cry as a foul, ripe odor began to swirl around her, causing her to immediately want to be changed.  As she finished pooping, she felt the front of her diaper grow warm.  The faint hissing sound indicated that she had started to wet herself.  Amanda stood up and began to walk towards her mother, her diaper sagging slightly between her legs as she continued to wet herself uncontrollably.

Her mother set down the table knife she was using to butter her toast and held her arms out towards her daughter.  Amanda began to suck her thumb, not wanting to admit what she had done but also wanting to be changed.  Her mother pulled her diaper cover down to her ankles, then pulled the rear of her diaper away to check it.  Even though she knew (and smelled) what had just happened, she wanted to condition Amanda to the idea of having her diaper checked.  She also recognized the opportunity to get her used to being changed in places other than her nursery, so she decided to perform the task on the living room floor. 

She walked into the nearby closet, retrieving the diaper bag she had packed a few days prior and led Amanda by the hand back to the living room.  She laid out a changing pad, then placed Amanda onto it.  Amanda felt her mess spread around her bottom as she was laid backwards, causing her to whimper in discomfort.  The feeling was much less pleasant than being in a wet diaper, which caused her to fuss.  Her mother began to coo sweetly at her, reassuring her that everything was ok and that what she had done was nothing to be embarrassed about.  Her soothing voice helped mollify Amanda, who turned her head to watch cartoons as her mother unfastened the tapes of her diaper and began to change her.  Amanda sucked her thumb as her mother began to wipe her soiled bottom, occasionally turning her head to check on her mother’s progress.  After a few minutes, Amanda was in a clean diaper and back to playing with her toys.  Her mother took her soiled diaper to the nearby bathroom and emptied as much of the contents as she could into the toilet, flushing it away.  “Gosh, I forgot how much work changing diapers could be!” she thought as she rolled the diaper up, depositing it in a plastic bag and tossing it into the garbage. 

For the rest of the day, Amanda’s mother allowed her daughter to play and become acclimated to her second babyhood.  She watched her attentively, observing her moods and relearning how to recognize her daughter’s needs by paying attention to her body language.  Throughout the day, she felt a growing heaviness in her breasts that had begun a few days prior.  When she touched them, she noticed they felt slightly swollen.  She knew what it meant.  She had been producing milk.

After feeding Amanda her lunch, she decided to put her down for her afternoon nap.  She took Amanda up to her nursery, then sat in the rocking chair with her, holding her in her arms and telling her the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  As she did so, she noticed her daughter staring at her bosom, her diaper crinkling as she attempted to get closer to her breasts.  She unfastened her blouse and guided Amanda’s head towards her right nipple.  Amanda latched on and her mother soon began to feel the suction of her daughter’s mouth on her tit.

Amanda rhythmically suckled at her mother’s teat, slowly draining her swollen mammary and causing her to feel relief.  When it no longer produced milk, she switched Amanda to her other breast, whispering to her softly and encouraging her to continue to take her fill of the nourishment her body had produced for her.

Being breastfed made Amanda feel a wonderful sense of contentment and security that she found highly pleasing.  Her mother’s warm, sweet milk relaxed and calmed her, causing her to become sleepy as she finished suckling.  When Amanda finally fell asleep, her mother placed her in her crib, turned on her baby monitor and slowly closed the door. 

After Amanda’s nap, she was taken out of her crib, changed and given a new toy to play with while her mother went over the questionnaires that had been delivered to her for her next doctor’s visit.  She noticed that this time, Amanda’s psychiatry session would consist of observing her play with another child her age.  When her mother saw the name of the child Amanda would be playing with, she smiled.  She wondered whether or not to tell her daughter, but ultimately decided not to.  Amanda was getting used to a lot of change at once.  Her mother decided not to overwhelm her and let it be a surprise.

The rest of the day consisted of more playing, more diaper changes and more mother and daughter time.  That night, as Amanda lay in her mother’s arms, she looked up at her and spoke to her. 

“Momma?  No more small?” she asked, looking down at her body and touching her feet. 

Her mother put her hand on top of Amanda’s head, brushing her hair out of her face.  “No, honey.  No more getting smaller.  From now on, Amanda is only going to get bigger” she answered, feeling a sense of relief that she was finally able to give her daughter good news.  Then, a pang of curiosity struck her.

“Honey, can Mommy ask you something?” she asked, hiking her daughter up closer to her.  Amanda nodded her head.

“Do you remember?  Do you remember what things used to be like?” she asked, suddenly feeling as if she may have asked a question that would upset her daughter.  Amanda stared up at her, seemingly deep in thought.  Finally, she answered.

“’Member” she said, pointing to her head.  Then, her eyebrows raised, as if she had just figured something out.

“Wike dweam….” she added, reaching up towards the sky.  Her mother understood what she meant.  Amanda still remembered everything.  She hadn’t lost her memories of her former self or any of the past events that had resulted in her becoming a baby again.  The answer made her somewhat uneasy.  While she didn’t want her daughter’s mind becoming a blank slate, she also didn’t want her to constantly be aware of what she had lost.  It was an uncertainty that had been eating at her since Amanda’s treatment had started.

“Do…….do you wish you could go back?  Back to the way things were?” she asked, unable to keep herself from knowing what her daughter truly felt.  Amanda paused again, then looked away from her and around her nursery.  After a few seconds, she returned her focus to her.

“No back.  Momma here now….” she answered, her eyes growing heavy.  Her mother began to softly stroke her hair, bringing her closer to her.  Amanda buried her face in her mother’s neck as she slowly fell asleep.  When she did, her mother placed her in her crib, turned her nightlight on and then silently exited the nursery.  She walked to her bedroom, put on her pajamas and practically fell into her bed.  Even at twenty-four, raising a toddler was hard work.  Despite her fatigue, she smiled as she thought about how excited she was for what tomorrow would bring.  For the first time in a long, long time, she felt like everything was going to be alright.