Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1090.
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(aka Bike) Part 1090 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad
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I was really glad that Tom had turned up, we were able to load the cot plus a few other bits and pieces in his car. He’d brought enough milk to last three or four days. As the baby was quite small, she was only likely to take small feeds every three or four hours. The carrycot was the sort that fitted to wheelbase so could be used as a pram. This baby was no more than a week old–suddenly I realised what I was taking on and felt a twinge of panic.
I had just strapped the carrycot into the car and loaded the folded wheels in the foot well in front of it. Trish was sitting on her booster cushion, peering into the cot with such love. “Don’t worry, baby Catherine, my mummy will look after you–she’s the best mummy in the world; an’ I ‘spect Auntie Stella will help too. I know I’m going to enjoy being your big sister, and Livvie, Meems and Billie will love you too. I dunno about Julie, don’t think she’s into babies too much–she’s into boys.” She rolled her eyes in mock disgust.
“Whit’s thae matter?” Tom asked seeing me standing and trembling.
“I don’t know if I can do this?”
“Why not?”
“She is so small and vulnerable.”
“Aye, she is, sae ye’ll hae tae be carefu’, won’t ye?”
“I don’t know if I’m capable of it, Daddy, I really don’t.” I felt a tear form and run down my cheek.
He hugged me. “Ye’ve no din sae bad sae far.”
“But she is just so small.”
“Stella managed, wi’ yer help, I think ye can dae onythin’ ye set yer mind tae.”
“It’s the end of my career, isn’t it?”
“That’s fa’ ye tae decide, noo is not thae time–c’mon, let’s get yon wains hame.” He hugged me again, and I dried my eyes, nodded and got into my car. I followed him back to the farmhouse.
One of the advantages of a house full of young women is there is no shortage of willing baby feeders or sitters. Unfortunately, with the baby being so small, feeding her required an adult. Stella offered to do the first one whilst I got the evening meal.
I called Stephanie and told her what had happened, especially Trish’s part and she said she’d try and call by tomorrow depending upon what was for dinner. I reminded her I was foster mother to a week old baby and she said she’d be over tomorrow for certain.
I asked her what to do tonight if there were any bad dreams, and she asked for who? I told her Trish, and she asked if I was sure if that was who I really meant?
“What d’you mean?”
“I believe you have some issues about death, don’t you?”
“Do I?” Was she reading my mind, or acting on information she’d gleaned.
“You’ve had a fair few these past couple of years, including close family and friends and children. Children’s deaths are always traumatic for adults, even those unrelated to them.”
“I can’t say I was that close to Maria or Daisy, or Paul, for that matter.”
“Didn’t you save their lives?”
“I helped a bit,” I blushed as I deliberately understated my part.
“Sure you did–so you had an investment in them. Just as we get a high from seeing somebody get better from our efforts; whether that’s as parents, teachers or healers, our act of giving means we are investing in them. The fact that you were going to offer her a job, that you felt guilty for her traumatic birth and the death of her family, shows you felt a great deal for her. You need to deal with your pain as well as that of others, you know.”
“Are you just touting for more custom?” I cheeked her back trying to hide my vulnerability.
“I wouldn’t see you anyway, too many potentials for crossed boundaries.”
“Perhaps I should give Dr Thomas a call.”
“By all means, do that, but with all due respect, I suspect you need a counsellor or psychotherapist, not a psychiatrist, you’re not barmy are you?”
“That’s a matter of opinion–I mean, who in their right mind would take on board a week old baby when they can’t cope with six existing kids?”
“Somebody who has a great love for the baby and compassion for her mother and other family, and who has an oddly old fashioned view of honour in this time of designer labels and disposable morals.”
“Are you saying I’m a dinosaur?”
“No, you silly sod, I’m saying you’re a woman of great compassion and principle.”
“Oh,” I blushed and remained silent.
“Cathy, if we had more like you in our world, we could right so many wrongs–now I’m preaching. I’m getting jaded by the endless streams of teenage mums who haven’t got a clue of how they’ve messed up their lives and that of their baby, because they don’t know any better. I’ve got an ex patient who is a grandmother at twenty nine. What chance have these kids got? At least yours will have some sense of right and wrong, of being loved and wanted and of self-value. They’ll have role models who are successful and have done something with their lives, and they have a whole family of adults who love them and support them. There are thousands of children and babies in this country, who, if they had a mother like you would do alright for themselves. The tragedy is, they won’t.”
I felt myself feeling very warm and squirming, I still found it hard to take compliments. “Thank you, I think.”
“You’re a very special lady, keep it that way. Now what’s for dinner tomorrow?”
“What do you fancy, pork or lamb?”
“Yeah, they’ll do,” I heard her chortle.
“This isn’t Cathy’s carvery, you know?”
“I know it’s the Cameron home for waifs and strays, isn’t it?”
“It’s beginning to feel like it.”
“Look, I’ve got a friend who’s a psychotherapist, she doesn’t come cheap but she’s very good. I’ll ask her if she’s got room for a new client–that’s if you’d like me to?”
“I suppose I have to start somewhere, should I tell Dr Thomas what I’m doing?”
“You can do, up to you–but I can guarantee she won’t mind one bit.”
“How can you do that?” I asked.
“She’s sitting opposite me drinking my best Merlot–want a word?”
“Is that appropriate, I mean she’s off duty?”
“Hello, Cathy, how are you?” came the familiar voice of the woman who’d saved my life and my sanity.
“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”
“Fine are you? Just from the gist of what I’ve heard now, you’re saving the world again.”
“If only, Dr Thomas, or just three individuals–I’d settle for that.”
“We rarely get what we want, Cathy, and when we do it rarely seems to be what we thought we wanted. You always wanted a baby, I can remember you saying so–a week old infant is as close as you’re ever going to get. Love her, protect her but also enjoy her. It’s dreadful that in the universe granting your wish, that someone had to give up a baby, especially in such sad circumstances, but make the most of it you may never get another chance to shape a life quite as completely as this one. Your other children call you Mummy, but they have known another parent, albeit an unsatisfactory one for the most part. This little one won’t. Despite you telling her about her birth mother, it’s you she’ll see in that role–enjoy it, you were made for it.”
“Are you suggesting I brought this about by wishing for it?”
“No, I didn’t mean that at all. I’m saying it was your dearest wish to have a baby–you have one–take the opportunity in both hands and enjoy motherhood from practically the beginning–but make sure you have some time for you. See Stephanie’s friend, but make that hour your time. I have to go, take care–oh and you know where I am if you need me.”
“Yes, thanks–bye.”
I stood there wondering what all that was about–did I wish for this? If so did I cause it to happen? If I did that would make me a monster, causing the deaths of three lovely people just so I could feed and change nappies on a baby. Oh shit.
