Memory

It seemed to happen in just one small moment. One minute I was childless, the next I wasn't. In that moment it seems I lost all memory of what my life was like before the breathing, squirming bundle of baby was placed in my arms.

I had no expectations of what my life might be like once I became a mother. I'd been a nanny, taken care of my nephew and spent lots of time with small children but I knew that would never be preparation enough for what was to come. I don't think anything can prepare you for it. The beautiful child you bring into the world becomes solely your responsiblity once it's handed over to your care. You leave the hospital on a high like you've never known before. You don't yet know that you're still going to be able to love that baby like you've never loved anything else, even when it's been screaming for days on end and you've not slept for what feels like weeks.

Today while sitting in the doctor's surgery yet again with Henry, a young couple came in with a baby that seemed to be only days old. The father held that baby so lovingly and so gently that it almost made me cry. Its mother moved slowly, as though someone had sapped the life right out of her. She managed to manouveur herself over to the reception desk and gave her particulars. She then slowly made her way back to take a seat beside her husband and child. She slumped down in her chair, leaned forward and put her face in her hands. I wondered if she were about to start sobbing. She looked up, leaned back, raised her head and stared into space. The baby started to fuss beside her in its father's arms. The mother moved her head sideways to glance in its general direction. She seemed so tired, almost like she didn't even have the strength to care. She looked defeated - as though having given birth to the child had zapped every ounce of energy she had.

Someone else in the waiting room asked how old the baby was. The father said the baby was five days. The mother gave a halfhearted grin in response because that's all she could muster. She then went back to staring into space.

That got me to thinking about the transition to parenthood and the emotional and physical roller coaster that it is. The expectations that are placed on us that were never there before. The demands that such a small helpless, dependent human can bring when we haven't been fully prepared for it. The overwhelming need to protect and nuture, love and guide another when you haven't yet learned how to do these things for yourself.

Most parents I know, including myself, long for a break, if even just for an hour, of the demands of their small children but when they get them they just wish their children were there with them. This is what they do to us. They tire us out but the idea of life without them seems stupid and wasteful and selfish. No wonder they bring with them a memory eraser.