From Here to Maternity

by Sinéad Moriarty

  ‘I learnt a lot from the few sections I read. I presume you’re going to breastfeed,’ he said, still referring to the book.

  ‘Presume’? What did he mean ‘presume’? After the horror stories I’d read and heard I had no intention of breastfeeding. Apparently your nipples got all cracked and bled. Besides which you leaked milk all the time like a cow and then you had that scary-looking machine that I had seen Jess use where you milked your boobs. It was barbaric.

  ‘They say breast is best,’ said James.

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘The doctors. Didn’t you see the posters up in Dr Philips’s waiting room?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted, having been far too busy scrutinizing the latest issue of Now magazine, which featured very un flattering photos of celebrities on the beach. It was fantastic: I felt much better about myself after seeing their cellulite.

  ‘It also says in the book that – and I quote – “There is no question that breastfeeding is best for your baby. It provides the perfect food,”’ James continued.

  That was what bugged me about him. How could he remember precise quotes? Come on, who can actually quote from a book they read the day before? I can barely remember tides. ‘So?’ I said, sounding like a sulky teenager. ‘Who cares what some stupid book says? What do they know? It’s just one person’s opinion, and Jess said breastfeeding’s awful. Really, really painful – excruciating, she said.’

  ‘Just because Jess found it difficult doesn’t mean you will. It’s better for the baby – safer, prevents allergies and infections, and boosts the child’s IQ.’

  ‘And what’s in it for me?’ I said, dazzling him with the counter-argument of a five-year-old.

  ‘It’s also supposed to be beneficial to mothers. It helps you regain your figure more quickly and reduces the risk of cancer.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? What about cracked nipples and mastitis?’

  ‘What’s mastitis?’ said the resident breastfeeding pusher. I breathed a sigh of relief. For once I knew something he didn’t.

  ‘It’s when your breasts get infected and your temperature goes through the roof. Apparently you’re in agony and then you get depressed and you resent the baby and it’s all because you breastfed,’ I added, for dramatic effect. I could see I’d overdone it, though, because James was looking suspicious.

  ‘And you have to pump your breasts like a cow if you breastfeed.’ I was a little hazy on the details of why and when but it had looked torturous when Jess did it.

  ‘Well, that does sound a little uncomfortable, but breast- feeding is supposed to be a wonderful bonding experience for mother and child and the benefits far outweigh the disadvantages.’

  ‘I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t you try sticking your penis into a breast pump and see if it’s a “little uncomfortable” for you or more like a form of torture.’

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be immature about this –’

  ‘Immature! It’s all very well for you to sit there on the sidelines dictating what I should do with my body while you look on. I think you should have hands-on experience of the pain before you go dishing out advice that you read in a book, and making me feel guilty because I don’t want to go through any more pain after labour, which, by the way, will probably end up with me having my vagina stitched – externally and internally.’

  James winced. ‘There’s no need –’

  ‘Yes, actually, there is need. I am nipping this in the bud right now. I refuse to be dictated to by someone who has no experience of childbirth or feeding and never will. I’m sorry, James, but you can read all the books you want and quote me reams of passages about the pros of breastfeeding, but when it comes down to it, it’s my boobs in the pump, my cracked nipples and my sore fanny, so if I was you I’d stand back and do the silent supportive thing.’

  ‘We’ll leave it for now. We can talk about it again when you’re calmer.’

  ‘THERE WILL BE NO CALMER, THIS IS NON-NEGOTIABLE. I AM NOT BLOODY BREASTFEEDING SO GET IT INTO YOUR THICK SKULL.’

  Calmly James put on his seatbelt and started the car, ‘Well, darling, it’s good to see that you don’t appear to have been in the least bit affected by any hormonal imbalance.’

  Chapter 22

  Babs stifled a yawn as the producer counted down. She was doing a spot about some new leopard-print mini-dress with Leslie. The dress was cheap and badly made and Babs was sick of flogging crappy products. Besides, Leslie drove her insane. She was totally over-the-top enthusiastic about everything she was selling and Babs thought she sounded insincere and fake.

  ‘Hello, everyone, welcome to BFL’s fashion slot. Golly, do we have a treat for you today!’ she gushed. ‘Leopard-print mini-dresses that will make you look sensational! Don’t you agree, Babs?’

  ‘Oh, yes, they’re a knockout.’

  ‘As you can see, our lovely model Candice is wearing one and looks so feminine and even, dare I say, sexy?’ giggled Leslie, as if she’d just said something really outrageous. Babs rolled her eyes. ‘This dress is perfect for a woman who likes her man to treat her well,’ continued Leslie.

  ‘Or for a woman who’s gagging for a shag,’ added Babs, smirking into the camera. ‘If you don’t have a man and are looking to get lucky, I recommend that you get off the couch and put this dress on with a Wonderbra and a pair of six-inch heels. You’ll definitely get laid.’

  Leslie recoiled in horror while the cameraman tried not to laugh.

  ‘We also have a, um… a…’ Leslie was flustered now.

  ‘Butterfly tops with matching skirts, which I am lucky enough to be wearing,’ said Babs, pointing to the enormous blue and green sequined butterfly splayed across her chest. It was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. Your granny wouldn’t wear it, she thought grumpily. What type of loser would actually want to go out in this?

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Leslie, regaining her composure. ‘And how does Barbara look in it? Sensational! I’m so excited about this matching outfit that I’m coming over all funny.’ She tittered. ‘I’ve ordered it myself in size medium. I’m going to wear it to my husband’s office party.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll go down a treat,’ drawled Babs. ‘If any of you viewers want to go out looking like you’ve been attacked by an oversized butterfly, you, too, can buy this outfit for just forty-seven ninety-five. You’ll get noticed, all right, but don’t expect to score in it. If you have to wear it, save it for church outings or flower-arranging meetings. Do not wear it on a Saturday night or on a blind date. Believe me, guys will go for the girl in the leopard-print mini every time.’

  They went to commercial break and Billy stormed on to the set. ‘What are you doing?’

  Babs shrugged.

  ‘We’re trying to shift these bloody clothes. I can’t have you sat there slagging them off. The manufacturers are watching this. We need the business and you know the score. Sell whatever you’re given, show no favouritism and do it properly.’

  ‘It’s the same manufacturer,’ said Babs, glaring at him. ‘If you’d bothered to check it out, the same people make the leopard-print mini-dress and the gross butterfly top, so it makes no shagging difference to them which they sell more of – it’s all profit.’

  ‘The butterfly top is more expensive so just belt up, smile and shift it,’ snapped Billy.

  ‘Well, maybe if you paid me more than the slave wages I’m getting, I’d find it easier to sell this shit,’ Babs hissed.

  ‘We’re back on air,’ said the producer.

  Leslie and Babs were now moving from clothes to jewellery. Three-stone aquamarine rings that were selling at fifty-five pounds ninety-eight. The stones were set in a gold band, shaped like a snake’s head.

  ‘Oh, Barbara, will you look at this ring? It’s exquisite,’ squealed Leslie. ‘It would be the perfect engagement ring. No woman could resist this stunning piece of jewellery. It’s like something Elizabeth Taylor might wear.’

  Babs put it on and looked at it. ‘T
o be honest, Leslie, if some guy asked me to marry him and produced this sorry excuse for a ring, I’d tell him where to stick it. Look, ladies, if this is all your bloke can come up with, say no. He doesn’t love you and the marriage won’t last. Dump him, get out the leopard-print mini-dress and head off on the town to find someone new.’

  Leslie laughed nervously, ‘Oh, Barbara, you are funny. She’s such a kidder. Now, folks, this stunning ring can be yours for just…’

  The section ended with Leslie reading out the product code while Babs sat and sulked. Billy was furious. He dragged her off the set and into his office, then slammed the door. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I’m sick of selling cheap trash to people who should know better. I’ve sold more products over the last three months than anyone else and you still haven’t given me a raise. I decided to show you what it’d be like if I didn’t perform my usual magic’

  ‘And this is supposed to make me appreciate your talents?’

  Babs nodded.

  ‘You sad cow,’ said Billy, ‘do you honestly think because you shifted some gear that you’re the best thing on TV? I have hundreds of birds begging me for jobs. You’re just one of many. And, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re living rent-free in my apartment, so if I was you, I’d stop nagging me about a raise. You’ve got it good, girl, and don’t forget it.’

  ‘I think you’ve got a pretty good deal out of it yourself, Billy. You’re not Colin Farrell and you’re not running the bloody BBC. You said yourself it’s the best sex of your life, so don’t try to make out that you’re doing me a big favour by putting me up. And as for nagging you about that raise, I haven’t even got warmed up yet.’

  ‘I’ve got a nagging wife at home and I don’t need another in the office. You’ll have to change your tactics, love. I come to work to get away from it, not to listen to another version.’

  Damn. He was beginning to sound really fed up with her and Babs needed to keep Billy on her side. She loved living in the apartment and had the best of both worlds as he was only there two nights a week at the most. Besides, she really liked him: he was fun and he didn’t let her walk all over him like all her previous boyfriends had. The fact that he was almost old enough to be her father meant that he gave as good as he got. And he took her to cool restaurants and bars. And the sex was great.

  ‘OK, then, how about a little persuasion of the flesh?’

  ‘Sorry, what was that? I was distracted by a large insect stuck to your tits,’ said Billy, grinning as Babs locked the door and peeled off the offending top…

  *

  I was trying to feed Yuri, who was flinging his yogurt all over the kitchen and squealing with delight, when the phone rang. I picked it up and tucked it under my yogurt-sodden chin.

  ‘Well?’ said Mum.

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Any news from London?’

  ‘You mean Babs?’

  ‘No, I mean your brother and that fiancée of his. I’ve heard nothing, and I’ve left two messages on the phone this week.’

  I dodged another spray of food. ‘Well, I haven’t heard from him either, so he’s probably just really busy in work.’

  ‘I’ve been on the Internet.’

  Oh, God, not the Internet again. Whenever Mum went on one of her fact-finding missions on the computer, it always ended in disaster.

  ‘ “Iranian wedding ceremonies” is what I typed in and I’m telling you, Emma, it’s most insulting. The bride’s mother-in-law gets a terrible time, no respect at all, and they encourage these dismissive and insulting customs.’

  ‘Mum, you’re going to have to be more specific. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Well, according to the information I read, there’s a part in the ceremony where the corner of a scarf is sewn together with multi-coloured thread, and this apparently represents the lips of the mother-in-law not being able to speak unpleasant words to the bride. It tells everyone that the bride doesn’t want any interference from the in-laws in her marriage. Well, did you ever in your life? The blatant insult of it’

  I tried not to laugh. What a brilliant idea. The Iranians were geniuses. It was inspired. From the day of your marriage you were making it very clear that you wanted no interference. Oh, the joy for Shadee if Mum’s lips were sewn together! ‘I’m sure it’s just some old tradition that isn’t used any more,’ I said, opting for the diplomatic approach. I didn’t think Mum would appreciate it if I told her I thought it was the cleverest custom I’d heard of.

  ‘It said it still takes place in modern weddings. I can tell you now that if I see any manner of a scarf being produced and Shady within a hundred yards of a needle and thread, I’m leaving that wedding and I’ll never speak to her again.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to work.’ I laughed, unable to contain myself.

  ‘This is no laughing matter, Emma. I have never heard anything so rude in my life. And I wouldn’t mind but I haven’t interfered one iota in their relationship or, indeed, in the wedding plans. Sure how could I? I’ve been totally excluded. “Just turn up and smile,” says Sean to me, the last time I was able to talk to him. That was before he stopped returning my calls. I suppose the scarf is already out over there with the corners sewn together and that’s why he’s not talking to me. I’ve obviously already been cast aside with no permission to have an opinion.’

  ‘Come on, Mum, you’re jumping to conclusions because of something you read on the Internet. You’re not being fair.’

  ‘That’s not the half of it. Wait until you hear this. According to the computer, the groom’s family is expected to pay all the expenses, and if they can’t, they’ll be looked down on. Well, when I read that I told your father to get out his cheque book. I’ll not have anyone looking down on us. Apparently the higher the social standing of the bride, the more lavish the wedding and presents must be. And it says that an elaborate wedding in Iran today costs about…’ she paused for maximum effect ‘…one hundred thousand dollars.’

  What? She must have read it incorrectly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. That’s absolute rubbish. You were reading about a royal wedding or something.’

  ‘I was not. I went back and checked it twice and then I got your father to read it. The poor man nearly had a heart-attack. We’ll have to sell the house.’

  ‘Hold on a minute. First of all, the wedding isn’t taking place in Iran. Second, as far as I know, Sean is paying for the whole thing himself and I can assure you it isn’t going to cost anything close to that. They’re keeping it small and personal. You can tell Dad to relax.’

  ‘The bride is supposed to be showered with expensive jewellery while the groom only receives a few gifts,’ continued Mum. ‘And I thought it was supposed to be a chauvinistic society! It seems to me that the girls over there get the best of everything. Lord knows what’ll happen to poor Sean. He’ll be bankrupt after this and Shady’ll be sitting there dripping in jewellery that we’ve had to remortgage the house to buy her, and me not allowed to say boo to her because my lips are sewn together.’

  At least she had come down from selling the house outright to merely remortgaging. This was a good sign. I decided to be firm.

  ‘Stop overreacting. Shadee has never asked for anything. She’s a very sweet, undemanding person who is devoted to Sean. Besides, she’s lived in London all her life and probably has no interest in any of these traditions. They’re getting married in a country house near Brighton, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘Should I give her my mother’s diamond necklace? I was keeping it for Barbara, but I won’t have Shady’s family saying we’re not doing our bit. I won’t be accused of being tight-fisted. We’ve always been a giving nation. The Irish are renowned for their generosity and I’ll not let the side down. We’re ambassadors for our country and I want Shady’s people to see that Sean comes from a good family. They may be of high standing in Iran, but we Burkes are of high standing in our own community
.’

  ‘Mum, put Granny’s necklace away and please stay away from the computer. It’s not good for you. You always get wound up and it’s not fair to assume that Shadee’s family want or expect any of the things mentioned in the article you read, and I can promise you that you won’t be having your lips sewn up. So stop giving yourself and Dad heart-attacks about it. I’ll track Sean down and get him to give you a call. Now, forget about what you read, it’s probably all nonsense.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about your father. He thinks the lip-sewing tradition is priceless. He said he’s going to get a scarf of his own and learn how to sew. Oh, if only Sean was marrying young Maureen Doherty from down the road…’

  I hung up before she got going on that particular topic and contemplated buying a scarf myself…

  Chapter 23

  The Leinster versus Bath match was being played in Bath on Saturday so James headed off to England with the squad on Thursday afternoon. I had decided not to subject Yuri to another flight so I was staying at home and would watch the match on TV. We waved James off at the airport and wished him luck. If Leinster won, they were through to the quarter-finals, so James was understandably nervous and had been analysing the Bath players for weeks. He had spent the last few days muttering about Philip O’Leary not being a good enough mauler.