From Here to Maternity

by Sinéad Moriarty

  ‘Any news on the wedding? He tells me nothing any more,’ she continued, probing me for information. Sean had told me that they were going to have it all booked before he came home for Christmas next week, but I decided to remain vague. I didn’t fancy having to listen to a tirade of ‘Why couldn’t they get married in Ireland? Was it not good enough for them?’

  ‘I think they’re still looking around. I’m not sure, really.’

  ‘And would they not look around here? With all the beautiful castles and churches they could have a spectacular wedding. Oh, no, I suppose it’s not good enough. It has to be some fancy place in England. I don’t know why he wouldn’t even look at your cousin Pat’s hotel in Wexford. It’s a lovely spot.’

  Cousin Pat’s hotel in Wexford was a dump. Mum had tried to strong-arm me into getting married there, but when James and I had gone down to check it out, the stench of boiled cabbage and the nylon sheets on the beds had been enough to send us hurtling out. Mum thought everything should be kept in the family and I admired her loyalty – but there was no way I was getting married there and neither would Sean.

  ‘Mum,’ I said firmly, ‘you should be thanking your lucky stars that they aren’t getting married in Tehran. Leave it be and don’t stick your oar in.’

  ‘I never interfere in my children’s lives,’ said Mum, looking genuinely put out as I choked on my tea. She fussed over Yuri for a bit, then asked, ‘And will all her relatives be coming over from Iran covered with the big black sheets?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I suppose there’s no chance she’ll convert to Catholicism?’

  ‘Highly unlikely.’

  ‘But Sean won’t become a Muslim, will he?’

  ‘No, Mum, he won’t.’

  ‘Well, then, what’ll the wedding ceremony be?’

  ‘I have no idea. Maybe a blessing of some sort.’

  ‘In a Catholic church?’

  ‘Or a mosque.’

  ‘A mosque! Lord save us and bless us, that Taliban crowd and your man Osama bun Ladle will be turning up next.’

  ‘Mum!’

  Chapter 8

  A few days later when James came home from work, he found me on my hands and knees with my finger in an electric socket. ‘Wouldn’t a bottle of sleeping pills be a more civilized way to go? Less messy,’ said our in-house comedian, as he threw himself onto the couch and kicked off his runners.

  ‘Stop, please, you’re cracking me up,’ I said, poking my little finger further in.

  ‘All right, let me guess. You read that electrocution restores energy to the body. Am I right?’

  ‘No. To cut a long story short I was ironing in the kitchen with Yuri sitting on the floor playing with his toys when the next thing I knew he had his head in the cupboard under the sink, had pulled out the bottle of bleach and was sucking the cap. Once I had recovered from the shock I realized that this house is a danger zone. Tracey says that – ’

  ‘Who’s Tracey?’

  ‘Tracey Hogg, The Baby Whisperer.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The book, James! The one that gave us the instructions about bathing Yuri. Anyway, she said that once the baby is crawling, your house must be childproofed and that the best way to do this is by crawling around on your hands and knees and seeing what your baby sees at his level. Apparently there are loads of things we need to be careful of – poisoning, which we almost had today, airborne pollutants, strangling, electric shock, which I was testing when you came in, drowning, burning, falling and bashing into things with sharp corners.’

  ‘Airborne pollutants?’ said James, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Yes, James, and I would imagine they include the toxic smell of your sweaty socks, so please either put your runners back on or wash your feet. After that you can prove your prowess at DIY. I have a bag full of clips that need to be attached to all the cupboard doors.’

  James groaned. ‘Mercy, please. I’ve just spent three hours at a training session.’

  ‘Well, why on earth did you have to train with the team? You’re the coach, for goodness’ sake. I doubt Alex Ferguson jogs about in his tracksuit with the Manchester United squad.’

  ‘He’s in his sixties and, besides, it’s good for me. It keeps me fit. Do we have anything decent to eat? I’m starving.’

  ‘I’m afraid I spent half my day pulping food for Yuri so I didn’t cook. You do, however, have the choice of mashed banana, stewed apples and pears or chicken and pasta, also mashed.’

  ‘I’ll order pizza.’

  ‘No. I’ll order pizza. You get out the screwdriver. Oh, and, James?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re not planning on leaving me any time soon, are you, because I look like a bag of hammers?’

  ‘I don’t know, darling. Between your handicap and your loss of looks, I have strong grounds for annulment.’

  ‘Seriously, though, do I look that bad?’

  ‘I presume I owe this latest attack of paranoia to your mother?’

  ‘The one and only.’

  ‘Emma,’ he said, getting down on his hands and knees to talk to me at eye-level, ‘with my airborne pollutants, I’m in no position to complain.’

  The next day Lucy called in. She was back from honeymoon and, aside from some nasty grazes on her arms and legs, she looked great and was as brown as a berry. I felt like a washed-out ninety-year-old beside her. She rushed in, hugged me, then ran to Yuri, who was sitting in his playpen looking angelic.

  ‘Oh, Emma,’ said Lucy. ‘He’s perfect. Can I hold him?’

  ‘Sure, but I’ve just fed him so he may burp on you.’

  ‘Who cares?’ she said, lifting Yuri and kissing him. She bounced him up and down in her arms and then, as if on cue, he threw up all over her.

  ‘Oh, shoot,’ I said, taking him from her and handing her a towel.

  ‘No problem,’ she said, as she tried to wipe vomit out of her hair. Lucy was an only child and had no nephews or nieces. Babies were as alien to her as they had been to me – until I found Yuri.

  I cleaned him up and put him back into his playpen, surrounded by at least thirty toys. I was hoping for twenty minutes with Lucy before he started acting up. ‘So, how was it?’ I asked.

  ‘Brilliant,’ she said, grinning.

  ‘Oh, God, you’re all loved up, and brown and skinny and stunning. If you weren’t my best friend I’d hate you. Tell me all. Sex three times a day, cocktails served in coconuts, dinner at sunset on the beach…’

  ‘Pretty much all of the above until Donal got bored and decided to book us on a jungle trek.’

  I began to laugh. ‘Oh, God, how bad was it?’

  ‘Well, these scars on my arms and legs are the result of being flung off my bicycle while I was hurtling down the side of a mountain – the same mountain that I had just cycled up, in one hundred degrees heat.’

  ‘You? Cycling?’

  ‘I know. But I kept thinking, marriage is about compromise, so I agreed to it. Mind you, we left the camp immediately after my fall and booked into the most luxurious hotel in Thailand. So we ended on a high note. Anyway, enough about me, how are you? How’s motherhood?’

  ‘It’s amazing, and he’s such a little dote. I honestly can’t remember what it was like before he arrived. I can’t believe we have him. He’s as much our own child as the next one will be,’ I said, getting a little emotional.

  ‘Oh, Emma,’ said Lucy, squeezing my arm. ‘It sounds perfect.’

  ‘It is – but you know the way you always hear mothers going on about how exhausted they are and how nobody could possibly understand the tiredness unless they’d experienced it first hand?’

  ‘God, don’t remind me,’ said Lucy, rolling her eyes. We had always thought Jess was exaggerating when she droned on about how tired she was all the time and how we couldn’t understand it…

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to say that it’s true. I never could have imagined how wrecked I feel. My brain has turned to fuzz
.’

  ‘Is it really that bad?’

  ‘Mind-blowing,’ I said. ‘Honestly, Lucy, I hate to be a bore, but it’s true what they say. Mind you, the fact that I’m pregnant as well probably makes it worse. I’m up at least three times a night with Yuri.’

  ‘Your pregnancy is just the best news. I’m so pleased for you,’ she said, hugging me again. ‘But you need your rest. Aren’t babies supposed to sleep all night after a month or two?’

  ‘Apparently, but I think he’s unsettled because he’s been transported to unfamiliar surroundings.’

  ‘Will he settle down soon?’ said Lucy, asking the exact question I wanted answers to myself.

  ‘No idea. But I hope so.’

  ‘What’s it like – you know – when you look at him and stuff? I mean, do you just think, Oh, my God, there’s my son, I couldn’t love him more. Is it really love at first sight?’

  ‘Between you and me, sometimes I want to send him back to Russia on a one-way ticket. Like at four o’clock this morning when he started crying for the third time and I was so tired I wanted to scream. But then he’ll smile, or snuggle into you, or sigh, or yawn, or just look at you in a certain way and, I swear to God, your heart just stops. It’s overwhelming.’

  ‘Wow. Donal’s mad keen to start trying,’ admitted Lucy.

  ‘Are you?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Not yet. I want to enjoy our first year or two of marriage without the pressure of trying to get pregnant. I know I’m thirty-six and my biological clock’s ticking and all that, but I don’t feel ready yet. Besides, I’m not sure how I feel about kids. You know? Sometimes I think I’d like to have one, but other times I don’t. One would definitely be enough for me but Donal wants the bloody Von Trapp family.’

  ‘Well, don’t do anything until you’re ready. Take your time. Because, honestly, Lucy, once you start, before you know it, you’ll be consumed by it.’

  ‘That’s just it. I’ve seen Jess popping them out like a rabbit, and you had such a struggle and it took over both your lives. It took me a long time to meet my Mr Right and get married. I’d like to enjoy it before complicating it with children. Besides, my mother was pretty bad at parenting and my dad did a runner when I was five, so who’s to say I’d be any good at it?’

  ‘Lucy, no one’s born to this. From what I can see, everyone’s just winging it. I think I’m useless at it, but I’m hoping that I’ll get better as time goes on. You’d be a brilliant mother, but don’t rush into it until you feel ready. Tell Donal to relax.’

  She nodded thoughtfully and I looked down at Yuri, who was merrily chewing on Lucy’s powder-pink suede Prada bag. He had dribbled all over it and bits of banana were stuck to the side. I reached into the playpen and grabbed it, which made Yuri bawl at the top of his lungs.

  ‘You’ll never want kids now,’ I said, handing Lucy her soggy bag.

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’d better go anyway,’ she said, backing out of the door and trying not to examine the damage to her bag in front of me. I waved her off, and sighed. I remembered well calling into people with kids and only being able to last about fifteen minutes before wishing I could leave. I’d have to meet Lucy at night in future. It was important to remember that just because I was besotted with Yuri it didn’t mean anyone else was.

  When Lucy got home, Donal was back from training.

  ‘How’d it go? Is he gorgeous?’

  ‘Mmm, very sweet,’ she said, leaning down to kiss him.

  ‘Jesus, what’s that stink? I hope it’s not some new perfume.’

  ‘No, it’s the lovely scent of baby puke,’ said Lucy, grinning.

  ‘Ha-ha! Did he throw up on you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and then he proceeded to eat my new bag.’ She waved the evidence at him.

  ‘He sounds like a great fellow altogether. High spirits – that’s what you want from a kid. How’s Emma getting on?’

  ‘She looks the worst I’ve ever seen her. She’s utterly exhausted and completely distracted. She says it’s all worth it and she’s clearly mad about Yuri, but I actually got a fright when I saw her. She obviously hasn’t slept in ages. I don’t know, Donal, this motherhood lark is definitely not all it’s cracked up to be.’

  ‘Well, she’s been through a lot in the last couple of years. You’ll have no problems – you’ll be pregnant straight away. My super-sperm will see to that. We’ll have a brood of kids in no time.’

  ‘Donal, you do realize I’m thirty-six, so the chances of us even having two kids are slim?’

  ‘Ah, I reckon if we got going now we’d squeeze at least three in, maybe four.’

  ‘One baby a year might be pushing it.’

  ‘We’re bound to have twins. My father’s a twin.’

  ‘Donal, I’d be quite happy with just one.’

  ‘One? But sure that’s no good. Only children are always spoilt and selfish and loners. There was an awful fellow in school with me who…’ Suddenly Donal realized what he was saying.

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Obviously there are exceptions to the rule – like you.’

  ‘So I’m not selfish, spoilt or weird?’

  ‘No, not at all. You do like to get your own way, though.’

  ‘Like when?’

  ‘Like when you fecked your bike in a bush and demanded to be taken out of the jungle.’

  ‘And you almost knocked me over in your eagerness to leave.’

  ‘I was only trying to keep you happy.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Anyway,’ said Lucy, sighing. ‘I like my job.’

  ‘Where did that come from?’ asked Donal, looking confused. ‘I thought we were talking about the jungle.’

  ‘I’ve spent fourteen years working my arse off to get to where I am and I’m really good at what I do. I like being respected and being successful in a man’s world. I don’t want to give it up,’ said Lucy, who was a high-flying management consultant.

  ‘But it’d only be for a few years until the kids were in school.’

  ‘Donal, if you take more than two weeks’ holidays in my profession, you risk losing your edge.’

  ‘Kids need to have their mothers around.’

  ‘Or fathers.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why do I have to give up work? You said yourself you’re getting too old for professional rugby and that this’ll probably be your last season. Why don’t you stay at home and mind the baby?’

  ‘Me? Stay at home? Like a big girl? Lucy, fellas don’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because they don’t.’

  ‘That’s your argument?’

  ‘Lookit, girls are naturally maternal. They know how to look after babies – it’s instinctive.’

  ‘Bullshit. They get lumbered with it. I can tell you now, Donal, I don’t think I’m very maternal. If I do ever have a baby I know I won’t want to give up work. I love what I do – it’s a huge part of who I am.’

  ‘When it’s your own kid, you’ll feel differently.’

  ‘I won’t. But if you feel so strongly about it, why can’t you be man enough to stay at home and mind the baby?’

  ‘Name me one fella you know who minds the kids while his wife works.’

  ‘Be a shepherd not a sheep.’

  ‘Lucy, can you focus on the conversation, please?’

  ‘I am. Why can’t you be the first guy we know to do it? Lead the herd.’

  ‘Why don’t you join the flock and stay at home like Flossie and the gang?’

  ‘Because, Donal, I’m a shepherd. Are you man or mouse?’

  ‘I thought I was a sheep.’

  ‘We’ll get a nanny,’ said Lucy.

  Chapter 9

  Sean and Babs flew home from London on 23 December. James, Yuri and I went to the airport to pick them up. Sean rushed over to hug me and to see his nephew for the first time. He swung him round awkwardly, then sort of patted his back. Babs lagged behind, busy chatting up a good-loo
king guy carrying a guitar. When they had swapped numbers, she finally trundled over to say hi. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, nodding towards the aeroplane guy. ‘He plays in a band. Cute or what?’

  ‘Hi. This is my son Yuri – the one I’ve adopted from Russia. Would you like to say hello or are we going to have to analyse some leper you just met on a plane for the next hour?’

  Babs rolled her eyes. ‘It’s good to see that motherhood has really chilled you out.’ Then, turning to Yuri, she took his hand. ‘Cute kid. Lucky for him he’s adopted or he could have been a redhead.’

  ‘Thank you, Babs,’ said James, laughing, while I fumed. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has said. You really have a way with words.’

  Babs shrugged. ‘I’m just being honest. Who wants a ginger baby? I hope the next one,’ she said, pointing at my stomach, ‘doesn’t get Emma and Sean’s redhead genes.’

  ‘Well, as long as they don’t inherit your nose they’ll be all right,’ I snapped.

  ‘You can’t wind me up about that any more, Emma,’ she said, ‘it’s all in the past.’ She wriggled the new one at me. I was tempted to punch it, but didn’t want Yuri to witness violence at such a young age.

  ‘Lucky you,’ I said, turning to Sean, ‘having Babs in your apartment twenty-four-seven. It must be heaven.’

  ‘Joy, the like of which I never knew existed,’ said Sean. ‘She’s a regular ray of sunshine to wake up to in the morning.’

  ‘Not to mention considerate and generous.’ I giggled.

  ‘Never stops giving. She was born selfless.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Babs, as the rest of us roared laughing.

  On the drive home to Mum and Dad’s house, I warned Sean that Mum was sniffing around for information about the wedding. He said it was all booked and paid for, with no room for change or manoeuvre and he’d fill us all in on the details later.