Off The Record
People Forced My Crying Baby And Me Out Of A Pharmacy—What Happened Next Changed My Life Forever
I never imagined that meeting the love of my life would result from a humiliating incident in a busy pharmacy. I felt like the worst mother in the world when others ordered me to leave because my kid was wailing uncontrollably. Then, however, something occurred that I did not anticipate.
I prayed that Emma’s bottle would last until our name was called while I rocked her in the corner of the CVS waiting room. We had spent over an hour there.
The pharmacist kept claiming they were still processing the new prescription that her pediatrician, Dr. Morales, had given for her reflux. It was raining heavily outside.
Holding her made my arms hurt, yet I dared not let her go. She would burst into tears again the instant I did.
On days like this, my thoughts occasionally stray to the beginning. Two and a half years ago, Emma’s father and I met at a friend’s BBQ. People were immediately drawn to him because of his effortless smile and self-assurance. I believed I had finally discovered the man I had been dreaming of my entire life when I spoke to him for the first time.
Together, we discussed the future and made travel plans. He would chuckle and express his eagerness to start a family in the future. I believed everything he said because it sounded so real.
However, his expression altered when I revealed that I was expecting. I felt as though I was watching a door crash just in front of me. Something chilly and remote took the place of the warmth. He claimed that there was a lot to take in and that he needed time to reflect. I knew that. I gave him room.
He disconnected his phone the following morning. A week later, his apartment was deserted but for a brief “I’m sorry” letter on the counter. “I’m not prepared to have children.”
That was it. No farewell, no explanation, and no forwarding address. I was pregnant, alone, and trying to figure out how I was going to handle this on my own.
It’s just Emma and me now. Since then, I’ve been raising her by myself.
With small fists swinging in the air, she began fussing once more.
“Shh, sweetheart, Mommy’s got you,” I said, trying not to see the crowd of people watching us. She looked away as I gently bounced her and offered the bottle once more.
Behind the desk, a woman in a white coat let out a loud sigh. Her name was Martha, and she had a really irritated look on her face.
“Ma’am, could you please step aside?” Sharply, she said. “You’re blocking the pickup lane.”
I instantly said, “I’m sorry,” and moved the stroller a few inches to the left. “She just needs a minute to settle down.”
Martha whispered, “Well, some of us are trying to work here,” loud enough for everyone to hear.
A shrill, entitled voice interrupted me from behind.
“Lady, some of us have serious issues. Perhaps you shouldn’t take your child to a pharmacy like it’s daycare.”
A woman in her 40s was glaring at me when I turned around. I would find out later that her name was Janet, but for now she was simply another stranger criticizing me.
My throat constricted. I wanted to clarify that I was powerless to leave Emma at home because no one else was available to watch her.
As a single mother, I wanted to let them know that I was trying my hardest and that sometimes you have to take your infant everywhere, even if it’s inconvenient for other people.
Suddenly, from somewhere along the line, there was laughter. Shame and embarrassment blazed hot in my face. Emma’s tiny lip quivered, and I could see she was going to weep again.
The woman who had been whining, Janet, then moved in closer. Her voice was harsher up close, and her perfume was overpowering.
“You know what?” With a loud voice, she stated, “You should go outside.” “I CAN’T BEAR THAT BABY CRYING ANYMORE.”
There was a murmur of agreement. “Yeah, seriously,” responded one man, nodding. Take her somewhere, like the vehicle.
In the middle of that pharmacy, my heart broke. My eyes ached with tears, but I fought the need to cry. I wouldn’t allow these individuals to enjoy watching me go totally crazy.
With trembling hands, I began gathering Emma’s belongings in preparation for my humiliating departure. Then, all of a sudden, an odd event occurred. Emma broke down in tears in the middle of her sob and gazed at something behind Janet with wide, inquisitive eyes.
I followed her eyes, wondering what she might have been looking at.
I almost dropped the bottle when I turned.
We were being approached directly by a man wearing a unicorn onesie. Not a full-on mascot suit, but one of those hooded, fluffy kigurumis with a mane and horn. Even Emma stopped sobbing because the scene was so utterly ridiculous and so unexpected in the middle of a gloomy Monday afternoon at CVS. Her little eyes widened, and she gave me the sweetest, tiniest laugh of the day.
Janet scowled, obviously startled by the disruption. “What on earth are you doing?”
The guy didn’t think twice. He approached us directly, standing between Janet and me, and asked in the most solemn manner he could muster, “Why are you harassing my wife?”
My mouth fell open.
Janet’s face became red. “I was unaware that she was seeing someone. I just had the thought—”
He asked, “You thought what?” “That harassing a pregnant woman was acceptable? Would you like to go outside and give an explanation?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I just—” Janet stumbled.
She backed up a few paces, picked up her prescription bag from the counter, and bolted from the shop.
All of a sudden, the pharmacy was silent.
Standing there, I stared at this stranger dressed like a unicorn who had just protected me as if we had been married for years. Emma continued to giggle as she reached for the furry hood with her tiny hands.
“Uh… who are you?” I was able to inquire at last.
I could sense true sincerity in his eyes as he smiled beneath the unicorn hood. “My name is Tom. I reside on Maple Street, a few blocks away.” I noticed what was going on through the window when I was buying coffee next door in the parking lot. He pointed to his attire. “I figured maybe a baby would like a friendly unicorn more than angry adults yelling at her mom.”
“So, you just… put on a unicorn onesie?” I inquired, still taking in the bizarre circumstances.
He shrugged, appearing a little ashamed. “After a sleepover last weekend, my nephew left it in my car. Children enjoy cute things, don’t they? I reasoned that perhaps if I could make her smile, those individuals would retreat. He turned to face the now completely enthralled Emma. Seems like it worked.”
It was the first time I had laughed all day. It was a sincere laugh that came from deep within, not a courteous one. Emma’s tiny hands were opening and closing as she attempted to grasp the fluffy unicorn horn, but she couldn’t stop grinning at him.
Leaning slightly closer so that only I could hear, Tom said softly, “I’m sorry about the whole’my wife’ thing.” “I didn’t want a single mother to be bullied by them. Those folks were completely inappropriate. I hope the cover story doesn’t bother your hubby.”
I glanced down at Emma while biting my lip.
“No husband,” I muttered. “Just her and I are together. Since her birth, things have been that way.”
In an instant, his face softened and warmed even more. Simply put, “Then you two are doing amazing,” he added. “Really. That requires a lot of strength.”
I couldn’t have imagined how much those words, said by a stranger wearing a unicorn onesie, meant to me.
The pharmacist finally called my name after a few minutes. Martha, obviously wishing to forget the entire incident, gave me Emma’s medication with hardly a glance. Tom was still waiting by the door as I turned to go, grabbing Emma’s diaper bag and attempting to hold everything in my arms.
He said, “Need a ride home?” “You have a lot on your plate, and it’s pouring outside. The unicorn won’t bite, I swear.”
That evening, he helped carry the diaper bag up three flights of stairs to my apartment and drove us home while still sporting that goofy onesie. Emma gazed at him the whole time as if he were the most enchanted thing she had ever seen in her brief existence.
I turned to thank him when we got to my door, but he was now making goofy expressions at Emma, which made her laugh once more.
I said, “Thank you,” with a little crack in my voice. “Back there, you have no idea how much that meant to me. I was on the verge of a total meltdown.”
Tom responded, “Hey, we all have rough days,” as he removed the unicorn hood. He had the sweetest smile, and his hair was a little untidy. “Anyone who judges a mom for having a fussy baby has clearly never spent a day actually taking care of a kid.”
That evening, I discovered that Tom worked from home as a graphic designer. He had three nephews that he loved dearly, but he had never been married and had no children. He made the tastiest scrambled eggs, loved bad science fiction films, and thought life was too short to take things too seriously.
The following day, he texted me to inquire about Emma’s reaction to her new medication.
After that, I didn’t think I’d hear from him again, but a week later, he dropped by with a plush unicorn for Emma. It had a rainbow mane and a glittering purple horn, nearly as large as she was.
“Thought she might want a friend,” he added, handing it over with a nearly timid expression.
Emma’s expression brightened like the dawn of Christmas.
After one visit, there were two, three, and eventually he was visiting multiple times a week. He would assist me in repairing items around my flat that I was unable to reach or was not familiar with.
When I was too tired to think about cooking, he prepared dinner. He would occasionally just sit and chat with me while I was feeding Emma. He would question me about my day and pay close attention to my response.
I never felt like a helpless victim because of him. He never pretended that being with us was a chore or a favor. He simply seemed to adore spending time with us, and I gradually began to recognize that I was falling for him.
Emma loved him. Every time he entered the room, she would beam. Her tiny arms were spread, reaching for Tom with total trust as she took her first steps.
Two years later, as we exchanged vows at city hall, the same man who had entered CVS in a unicorn suit stood beside me, anxiously adjusting his tie.
Our flower girl was Emma, who is now two years old and can speak in complete words. Still completely enamored with all things unicorn, she carried a basket of rose petals and donned a white frock with unicorns embroidered on it.
Tom immediately responded “yes” when the officiant asked if he would marry me. I was crying so hard that I could not speak when he asked whether I would marry Tom.
A few months after our wedding, he adopted Emma. Emma referred to him as Daddy for the first time on the day the judge made a decision.
In the courtroom, Tom and I both started crying.
Now, Tom still puts on that goofy kigurumi and dances around our living room until Emma laughs again when she’s feeling ill or having a rough day. It serves as a reminder of how we all met and has become a family ritual.
Therefore, perhaps refrain from passing judgment if you ever witness a weary mother struggling in a CVS or any other store. Instead, perhaps say something kind. Perhaps you should keep your mouth shut and keep in mind that everyone is engaged in fights you have no idea about.
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