Which only goes to prove my theory that whatever way they come into your life, children wreck it. And that’s okay.
The routine (get up, go to work, mark the passage of time in coffee spoons and Pret sandwiches, go home, cook some garbage, watch some garbage, go to bed, scroll through entire internet, go to sleep) is really beginning to pall. You’ve largely run out of conversation with your partner. You are starting to feel the first intimations of mortality and it is time to make it feel as though your time on this earth has not been lived entirely in vain. The age of spawning is upon you. Mazel tov!
Intellectual responses mix with visceral, conscious happiness suffused with darker, more difficult stuff bubbling up from the deeper levels of your psyche, however well you thought you’d sealed it in down there.
But I had a terrible, terrible birth and for one reason and another, that baby has been my only baby. Which is fine. Having just one child actually suits me very well. I am no earth mother. I’m not denigrating myself – I’m a good mother, and when it comes to explaining the finer points of his English grammar homework, excellent – but it’s not the thing I’m best at or that I’m best suited to.
square LUCY MANGAN I’m menopausal and have lost the ability to care about anything but myself
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And then a friend gets unexpectedly pregnant and a bomb goes off inside you. I was doubly blindsided and therefore wholly emotionally unprepared. I am in baby hiatus mode. All but this one of my friends is my, menopausal age. They are mostly visiting their kids at university, and there are likely to be no babies in our circle for at least another decade, when grandparenthood will begin – hopefully for at least enough of us for everyone to have a little share in it overall.
All this, of course, means that I am going to have to stay a million miles away from my friend and her baby once it’s born, lest I become a sort of post-partum Miss Havisham figure, festooned in babygros and muslins instead of ragged bridal lace gazing out at pureed veg instead of mouldering wedding cake. Again – don’t call the authorities. I shall behave myself.
I am so happy and so sad. What’s happened is a glorious miracle and I am heartbroken. Welcome to second motherhood, I guess. From a distance, yes, yes, from a safe distance.
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