I fixated on Jack’s minuscule creamy dimpled hand clamped firmly around my finger, his eyes closed tight. Unenlightened to his world; secure in my arms. I marvelled at the trust he held in me. I’d indulged so many of my hours, holding him, watching his tummy rise and fall with each reassuring breath as he slept. Hypnotised by his virtuousness. But then I would often fall asleep too, shattered.
You left us alone on our first day home from hospital, returning to discover us curled up asleep on our bed. ‘What are you doing? It’s the middle of the day! Why is there crap all over the kitchen worktops? A dirty nappy on the floor?’ Luckily, I’d been too dog-tired to make myself anything to eat; else that would have been on our bedside table too. I’d tried to reason with you. I was completely exhausted. I couldn’t seem to find the time; hours rolled away from me, despite my chase. ‘Pull yourself together, sooner rather than later. Pathetic excuses’, was your response. But my to-do list grew to ridiculous lengths. I couldn’t remember the half of it anyway. I was torn, dog-tired and anxious. Apparently, I was also ‘pitiable, lazy’ and ‘disorganised’. And worse, making you doubt my child-raising capability.
‘Eve, can I say? You look so very drained. You really ought to have stayed in hospital longer than you did. The nursing staff wanted you to, asked you to, I understand.’ She lowered her head to me; she wasn’t being critical, more concerned, given the long and difficult birth.
I wished I could divulge to Janet, my kind-hearted caller, but I was afraid she’d interpret it the wrong way. Was there a right way? On reflection, I was embarrassed. I too had wanted to remain in hospital, more than even I could understand. I’d originally anticipated I’d be desperate to get home. I felt safe in hospital, everyone was so kind to Jack and me. Allowing us to feel special, important even, with no need to worry or think about anything. The midwives and nurses allowed me to believe I’d achieved something amazing, something to be proud of. I didn’t wish for it to end.
The day you arrived to collect us, the day I’d played out in my imagination numerous times the previous six months, crushed all my hopes. Despite grasping, deep down, it wouldn’t have been any other way. I tensed at your voice approaching, charming its way past the nurses’ station before you pushed open my door. At your insistence, I was isolated in a private room, despite looking forward to the company of other mums. My appeals caused an argument; you stormed out of the house and returned blindly drunk. Despite my being nine months pregnant, us living in the midst of the countryside. You said I was hormonal, so particularly argumentative. I was simply expressing my opinion.
You then insisted I was to return home the day after Jack was born, regardless that he was born in the early hours of the morning; it was only a matter of hours. Against the advice of the clinicians. You refused to listen, arguing I should be at home; you offered assurance we’d be looked after. You appreciated it had been a difficult birth and I was appropriately weak. They didn’t mean weak in the way you understood it; it wasn’t expected to be a criticism.
I still picture you lingering at the foot of the bed, mobile in hand. ‘You two not ready yet?’ You frowned. ‘I did mention this morning I’d be returning at eleven. What have you been doing since then?’
‘You did…’ I pulled my tender body up from my supportive pillow ‘… but I had to wait for the consultant to speak to me, then he woke Jack up, and—’
‘Right, well, come along, then. I’ve only thirty minutes on the ticket,’ you said whilst picking Jack up clumsily from his sleeping state.
‘Careful, Gregg, he’ll be hungry again if you wake him.’
You glared at me, indignant. ‘He’s my child too. Don’t start.’ You began prodding at his tummy, as if to encourage a reaction.
‘I’m not, it’s just… well, you’re the one in such a hurry.’
‘Here we go again. You are always so… in the right, are you not?’ You continued to poke at Jack as if he were some kind of toy you pressed to release a sound. ‘Your mummy is becoming such a bore, isn’t she? You’ll learn, Jack. You’ll soon find out.’
I cursed myself, feeling my eyes well up. ‘Can you pass me my bag, please? It’s behind you.’
‘What for? Why do you need your bag? There’s no time to be fussing with hair and make-up. This morning was your time. We need to get going.’ You smiled to yourself. ‘Do you not think you may need a little more than a hairbrush and lipstick anyway? I take it you’ve not had sight of a mirror as yet?’ I bit hard on my lips to stop the tears from falling. I wanted to tell you how much you had changed; how spiteful and hurtful you had become. But I didn’t. You already knew, didn’t you?
I stood tentatively to gather my belongings from around you, each slight movement hurting. I imagined the discomfort akin to having been in a car accident. Battered and bruised. Although I had no lacerations. Then it dawned on me, despite your promises, reassurances to the clinicians, you were in your work suit.
‘Have you been into work already this morning?’
‘Not as yet. I will be, as soon as I’ve dropped you two off. Why?’
‘Do you have to? I really wanted to have you at home with us today. I thought it would be nice, with it being our first day,’ I pleaded; I’m still not sure why I did this. Was I still hopeful things could revert to how they used to be? Nonetheless, the idea of suddenly being all alone for the day frightened me.
‘No can do, I’m afraid. Far too much on. You need to learn to be on your own at some point. No time like the present.’ You shook your head impatiently. ‘I’m simply not able to drop everything on a whim. As you are aware, I’m working on the McKenzie case. It’s essential I go in.’ You clap your hands, making me wince. ‘Come on, let’s get to it.’ You reached for Jack’s pristine, all-singing-and-dancing car seat, slotting him in as if packing a parcel. My stomach smarted as I picked up my overnight bag. As a new family, we left my safe haven. I stopped briefly to thank the staff at the nurses’ station; they wished us good luck. Moments later we walked out into vulnerable skies to the car, in silence. Their wishes were never going to be enough.
The whole experience felt so far removed from who I am, the person rapidly becoming hidden deep inside me. I told myself not to be such a dreamer, such a romantic, but still I couldn’t fight the feeling of it all being so wrong, such a waste. The joy of this beautiful baby being smothered by the sterile atmosphere. Where had I gone wrong? Had I just become a whinger? Was I depressed?
‘You okay, Eve? You drifted off into your own world then.’ Janet squeezed my hand, eyes smiling at me.
I nodded. ‘I’m fine, just a little tired. Nothing some rest won’t fix.’ Who was I trying to kid?
She glanced at her watch, ‘I need to get going. Would you believe it’s gone six already? Will your husband be home soon? I think you’re going to need some TLC tonight.’
‘Yes, of course, you should. Thanks for coming, then staying for so long too. It’s very kind of you. I hope I haven’t made you too late.’
She must have mentioned about the TLC because it would be the normal thing for a partner to do. All the other new mums must have this kind of support. Was this what happened behind other closed doors? And those who didn’t have a partner at all, were they better off too? Because then at least people knew they were alone. I lived a lie.
As Janet stood pulling on her coat, she unwittingly dealt another blow. ‘Do you have any other visitors, Eve? You know, people who can help you, family or friends?’