The Letters of Sylvia Plath Vol 2
Page 81
Our Christmas was the happiest and fullest I have ever known. It is the first one we “made ourselves”, from start to finish. We trimmed the tree and set out our amazing stacks of gifts (from everybody, it seems) on Christmas Eve. Then Christmas day we started the 3 of us off with our daily ration of soup-plates of hot oatmeal (something you & grammy taught me), then led Frieda into the livingroom, which she had not seen in its decorated state. I wish you could have seen her face. She went right up to the tree and touched a silver ball. Then she saw her Baby (the marvelous one you sent) & made the funniest little gesture, put her arm behind her head and said “Oh” and rushed to pick it up. We had, for our gift to her, made a lovely cradle for it. In the wonderful Woman’s Days Aunt Marion sent (you must tell her about our using them, I’ll write too, later) we found the perfect pattern for a wood cradle.* Warren’s package arrived just in time---suspecting their toolishness, Ted opened his early, utterly delighted, & made the cradle. I painted it white and then put hearts & flowers & birds on it in red, green, blue & yellow enamel. Then I made a red cord bedspread. That baby really looked handsome. And the ponytailed baby, & the teensy one in the carriage (which Frieda loves & persists calling a car) completed her delight. She carries them all round with her, has to sit them in her highchair. Her first words on waking are “Babies, babies”. To save myself the endless work of getting all 3 babies into her arms all the time, I thought I’d put one away for a bit till she got used to them, but she looked all round, saying “More babies, more babies” in the most plaintive voice, so I relented & got them all out again.
Then we carefully & slowly unwrapped all our presents. Really, mummy, you outdid yourself! Your pink sweater set is heavenly. (Do you expect a girl?) And the lovely blouse in my favorite colors of blue & green will hearten me immensely as soon as I get out of these shredding maternity clothes---I’ve been wearing the same sweater all winter! I just love the nighties---they came as my other simply fell from my back: I had washed it & worn it every week for over 2 years! I think Frieda’s skirt is about my favorite---the red one. She looks such a treat in it, with her tights. Tights are a godsend. I don’t know how we’d get through the winter without them! Oh, I think you’ll go bankrupt if you get any more grandchildren! And Dotty’s package was full of lovely things. She has wonderful taste---I adore the blouse she got me. And the sweaters for Frieda, just as she had outgrown all but your red one were providential. The Fox book* Ted had to read immediately. He said it was the most beautiful children’s book he had seen---and it means so much to me, being set in New England! His very favorite presents were the Fox book & Warren’s tools, which he hasn’t put down since he got them. He’s been fitting in the staircarpet clips with them today & says they’re marvelous & “very American”---meaning streamlined.
I was so glad to hear about your feast at Dot’s & that you are accepting invitations! I spent the rest of Christmas making my 1st simply beautiful golden-brown turkey with your bread dressing, creamed brussels sprouts & chestnuts, swede (like squash, orange), giblet gravy & apple pies with our last & preciously saved own apples. We all 3 had a fine feast in the midafternoon, with little Frieda spooning up everything. Then a quiet evening by the fire counting all our hundreds of blessings & beaming. I look so forward to our doing this every year. Our house is a perfect “Christmas” house.
xxx
Sivvy
Oh yes! Three cheers for the Ladies’ Home Journal! I’ll love it.
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 29 December 1961
TLS (aerogramme), Indiana University
2nd installment
Dear mother . . .
There’s so much to say I just couldn’t fit it in to my last letter. That was our Christmas. Ted’s mother & father went to dinners at their relatives, too (Olwyn stayed in Paris translating a play for her play agency---we’ve both “written” to each other,* a step, so the gap is bridged as I wanted it to be by this Christmas)---Aunt Hilda’s & then Uncle Walter’s. Ted called them afterwards & they seemed to have had a simply wonderful time. I think all of us descending on them was a great expense and strain, & this time they were treated & feasted. So we’ll go on like this & pay our visits in the summer when there is no competition on the roads & the weather is good & everybody doesn’t just exchange colds. I want to establish a Christmas tradition in my own home now. I hope by next Christmas, when the playroom is livable, we may have a little piano on which I can play carols. I made 3 of Dot’s delicious carrot cakes this year (plan to give one to my midwife when she’s done her job with the baby---she’s a wonderful woman, bakes her own bread). Now I have discovered I have none of the recipes for the Christmas cookies you put on your Christmas plate. I’d like all. Especially the sand tarts you cut in shapes & decorate & the chocolate flat ones you decorate with almonds. Our neighbors have been so sweet. We got cards from our Nancy Axworthy (who brought Frieda a little plastic doll in a shower bath that really squirts water! We gave her a bottle of very excellent port---the holiday drink here: she was giving dinner for 9 & her only daughter had a 21st birthday, much celebrated here) & 4 or 5 of our nearest neighbors. An old couple at the bottom of the lane brought a bouquet for me of giant chrysanthemums, & Rose Key, our nearest neighbor, a woman with 3 daughters in London & a spry lovely retired husband, made up a little box of candy for Frieda which I let Ted devour. Our house is full of nuts, tangerines, pears, figs and dates. Oh, we had a lovely time. Everybody is so warm & friendly to us.
One amusing thing: our redoubtable Nurse-midwife who was obviously measuring us sternly (as artists and outlanders) suddenly capitulated with surprising warmth. Her son* had come home from his very good school in North London & asked if she knew a Ted Hughes. A friend of his, it seems, was a “fan” of Ted’s & had written Ted & the answer came back with a North Tawton postmark. This really Established us in the good lady’s eyes. I’m sure we’re the questionmark of the community: now Ted is “placed” as a rather famous Britisher. My doctor is very nice & good. I’ve started taking sleeping pills for my arms have been a bother---all pins & needles & often so painful I can’t lay them anywhere at all: evidently a normal symptom of some pregnancies & common locally---but these pills really put me to sleep at night, for which I’m most grateful. Otherwise I’m just fine.
All through this I’ve not said anything about Warren’s engagement. How wonderful! I wish he and Maggie would visit us after they’re married. They could stay at the local Inn we dined at if they found our place too noisy with babies, as they well might! Do send a glossy of her Bachrach picture.* I’m sure we’ll love her & hope Warren is as happy as she must be.
What fun for you to have all the very most traditional trappings for one of your 2 children (diamonds, Bachrach &, I imagine, a very formal wedding)---especially the son (should save you the wear and tear!) Wish so much I could attend. Do you think it will be this June? You must give me some notion of what they’d like for a present. Did I tell you, by the way, that Ted’s Uncle Walter gave us £100 as a Christmas present? (He’s evidently been doing this for brother Gerald a long time who has a Jaguar & other cars). Seems we only needed to show we didn’t need it (I’m so glad we never asked him for a loan!) and he is so impressed by our house photographs & purchase that he’ll probably favor us with a visit this spring! Edith sent us a lovely pink double blanket for our bed & two blue ones for the babies. I’ve also bought the handsomest & lightest & warmest pink blanket in the world for our bed (we’re putting the 2 flimsy ones on the guest bed---fine for summer). Santa gave Ted a Jaeger sweater---fawn, cardigan, very posh & handsome to replace his tattered ones, & me a feathery warm rose mohair robe with big collar to solace me in my pre- & post confinement. All very necessary for survival, but very nice. I loved your encouraging letter & article---I’d come to the same lookout myself. We’ve had two days of storybook weather. The merest dust of snow on everything, china-blue skies, rosy hillto
ps. New lambs in the fields. Its the second coldest winter this century the farmers say. Took Frieda for little trots on Dartmoor & our local heights this week. She said “no” for snow. Can finish the Hi-diddle-diddle rhyme on a picture card with “poon” & thinks everything with fuzz is a “doddie”---her favorite animal. You should see her baby her babies---feed them her biscuits, hold up a clock to their ear so they can hear it tick, cover them up. They couldn’t come at a better time---to get her used to the baby idea. She is so loving---I’m sure she gets it from us! Ted is an angel – so thoughtful.
xxx
Sivvy
1962
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 12 January 1962
TLS (aerogramme), Indiana University
Court Green, North Tawton
Devonshire, England
January 12, 1962
Dear mother,
Well, Nicholas-Megan was officially due yesterday, and no sign. So this baby will probably delay a few days like Frieda, and keep us all in suspense. I’ve so enjoyed your long, newsy letters! I’ve felt lazier and lazier and more & more cowlike. The doctor’s sleeping pills are very good---we’ve been sleeping about 10 hours a night, and Frieda just plays quietly however late we get up. I’ve given up all pretence of working in my study these last weeks, I am simply too ponderous! As far as I can tell by these weird English weights (in Stones) I weigh almost 170! With my clothes on, of course, and that accounts for a lot---layer after layer of sweaters & tights. As it is, I go to bed after lunch, for being up on my feet 4 hours is like a day’s work in the fields, and sleep about 2 hours then. Ted helps me with Frieda---lifting her in and out of bed & highchair and dressing her---she’s so funny, like a little worm, & delights in toddling off as I sit with her clothes, too weighty to chase after her. “Bye-bye”, she says gravely, waving & shutting the door of the bathroom closet, or popping behind the curtains of the closet in her bedroom. Then she giggles & peeps out. Her “Baby” & “Ahh-hee” (a white elephant from Olwyn) go everywhere with her, also the darling pony-tailed Baby you sent in the bath---Frieda is always combing her hair with a tiny brush. She insists they be fed, too, & shares her snacks with them. She is so pretty and loving, we just adore her. I hope this next baby is anywhere near as nice. Did Mrs. Magandantz* have any doctor’s explanation as to why one’s arms go all prickly & bloated-feeling? There seems to be no remedy for it. Right now I feel I am typing through a field of sandy needles, and I am always dropping things or running my finger through with pins when trying to sew---very inconvenient, but I persist.
All our rugs have come. The livingroom is lovely now, with my red cord curtains & red cord windowseat, and the all-wool Wilton, basically red, but with the usual border and center medallion and patterned all over with off-white, green and black leaves and flowers, so it should not show wear easily. We need it for company and evenings. Children are taboo. I’m sitting in it now with Ted, very cosy & bright.
Everyone around is so amiable. The shopkeepers inquire after me, & it seems all North Tawton is awaiting the baby! I like the bank manager’s wife (where we went for a cocktail party the Saturday before New Year’s) very much---she is about 50, but seems of-an-age to me, a spry, witty-tongued Irishwoman with a daughter of 15 at prep school. Her husband has had 2 heart-attacks & obviously lives under the shadow of this, but is very perky and pleasant. I have also met the Doctor’s Wife (at the party) & liked her a lot; she is my age, with 2 daughters. I hope she invites me over some time. I expect slowly we shall edge in to the Best Society---very amusing.
Ted & his poet-twin here, Thom Gunn (who actually lives & teaches in Berkeley) are bringing out an anthology by half-a-dozen American poets* for Faber. Faber are also bringing out a paperback edition of their own selected poems. My little shilling anthology of American poets I edited for the Critical Quarterly here has got very good reviews & seems to be selling well. Each day I bake something to hide away for Ted & Frieda when I’m recovering from the new baby. I have a box of sand tarts cut in shapes with cherries & almonds (F. calls them “moon-cookies”), a box of tollhouse cookies & a fruitcake. Tomorrow I’ll try an apple pie with the very last of our apples.
I hope Warren takes all I write you for himself too. I love hearing about Aunt Maggie. We’d so like to see them here. Don’t worry about money, for them! Ted & I had nothing when we got married, & no prospects. And in 5 years all our most far-fetched dreams have come true. We look so forward to your visit this summer! It does my heart good to hear you have knitting in your hands again (and not just from my own greedy motives!) and that you are seeing friends. You must do more & more of this---you owe it to yourself. I hope you will find life here easy & relaxing: I am having the baby in the guestroom, where you’ll be, & we have fixed it up quite comfortably, although the old rug is shabby. We’ve painted the floor & I’ve made curtains. You must bring a bathingsuit, too! I hope we can go to some nice beaches together. Of course Frieda will remember you! Deep down, if not obviously. You’ll have more lovely times together. Do tell me Betsy Powley’s address & I’ll write her. I’ll write Dot* & everybody as soon as the baby comes.
Lots of love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thurs.–Sat. 18–20 January 1962
TLS (aerogramme), Indiana University
January 18, 1962
5 p.m.
Dear mother,
By now I hope you have received the telegram Ted sent this morning with the good news of the arrival of our first son Nicholas Farrar Hughes* (I almost wrote Nicholas-Megan!) last night at 5 minutes to midnight, making another 17th date in our family, after Ted’s August 17th. I am sitting up in bed, feeling fine and refreshed after an afternoon’s nap, Nicholas in a carrycot at my side getting pinker and pinker. He looked very swarthy to me when he arrived, like a wrinkled, cross old boxer, and still is a Farrar type, although Ted suggests his head-shape resembles Daddy’s. Now he has turned quite pink and translucent, though. All during the delivery I felt it would be a boy---my notions that he was a much bigger & heavier baby proved true, and no illusion---he weighed in at 9 pounds 11 ounces, compared to Frieda’s ladylike 7 pounds 4 oz., and I had a lot more work with him than with her. Woke at 4 a.m. the morning of the 17th with niggly contractions that came & went all day while I did as much cooking as I could, till 5 p.m., just after Frieda went to bed, when they started to get very strong. I had a visit from both midwife & doctor during the day---both very kindly and encouraging. Then at 8:30, when the contractions were established at every 5 minutes, Ted called the midwife. She brought a cylinder of gas & air & she sat on one side of the bed & Ted on the other, gossiping pleasantly together all 3, while I breathed in my mask whenever I had a strong contraction & joined in the conversation. I had used up the cylinder & was just beginning to push down when the baby stuck & the membrane didn’t break. Then at 5 to 12, as the doctor was on his way over, this great bluish glistening boy shot out onto the bed in a tidal wave of water that drenched all 4 of us to the skin, howling lustily. It was an amazing sight. I immediately sat up & felt wonderful---no tears, nothing. It is heavenly to be in my own house---I’m in the guest room which is ideal. Beautiful clear dawn & full moon tonight in our huge elm. Everybody in North Tawton turned to stare at Ted when he came into town---Rose Key, our cottage neighbor, brought a little knitted suit & the banker’s wife sent a card & towel. I gave the midwife my traditional carrot cake. She is a wonderful woman. You should see her with Frieda---(we showed Frieda the baby this morning & she was terribly excited)---the midwife has Frieda come in and “help” as she fixes the baby, advising me to share the tasks, even if it takes longer. I didn’t even know Frieda could understand, but she did everything the midwife said---held the safety pins, kissed the baby, helped wrap him up & then sat & held him all by herself! She was just bursting with pride. Having the baby at home is so restful. Nancy came today & did the downstairs & will be glad to come extra time for ironing or washing up. Ted sp
ent the afternoon with the BBC producer* of his new radio play*---or poem for voices, who came down from London to see him about details. Coincidentally, this man’s birthday was yesterday, too. Now everything is quiet and peaceful & Ted is heating the vichysoisse & apple pie I made to tide us over.
Later: Saturday, January 20th. I have today marked as a red letter day because your exams will be over, & all that extra work for your courses. I’m sure I’ve been as concerned for you about this as you’ve been about me & the baby! Hope all went well, & that you have a lovely dinner at Dot’s. Loved the newsclipping of Margaret.* I look so forward to an amiable sister-in-law! She certainly has nothing to fear from me! I only wish I could share in the fun & plans for the wedding. Would you think me crazy to ask you a favor? Could you possibly get me 2 size 34C Maidenform white cotton bras & 2 pairs of white size 6 six briefs (elasticized not open round the leg rim) at Filene’s* & airmail them? Would it be stupidly expensive if you just wrapped them in paper? I have no underwear, everything has just fallen to shreds & no notion of when I’ll feel like driving for a day in Exeter to shop again, & I know just what American things fit me. If this is too extravagant, don’t bother. I’m slightly dazed & have no notion of common sense at the moment. Everyone is very sweet in town & Rose Key will bring us Sunday dinner in a covered dish. Isn’t that thoughtful.