I was alone, but if it happened again
So why have you become this way? Your bellys empty now, which means its time to tend to the house. The floors wont clean themselves, he said, his tone as grand as if he were awarding me a Nobel for simply being able to hold a mop again.
I stood amid the wreckage of our kitchen, and I wasnt exaggerating. There was real chaos: dirty dishes piled up, the fridge yawning empty, a sticky floor that reflected the dim light. In the corner, on the balcony, a broken drying rack still held the nightdress I had worn when I left for the maternity ward a month and a half ago.
No blossoms on the table. No note left on the counter. Not a single drop of respect.
Only my husbands indifferent stare, as if I were just the neighbour whod wandered in without knocking.
They say women become overly sensitive after childbirth, but it isnt the hormones, is it? Its the way were received, the words spoken to us, the embraces or the lack thereof.
Are you mocking me? I whispered, looking at him. Ive just come back with triplets. After the operation
And? he snapped, irritated. A Caesarean, as you called it. All under anaesthetic. You didnt give birth, you just lay there. Stop pretending. Are you pumping milk? Fine, do it. But that doesnt excuse a dusty house.
At first I thought he was joking. Then I thought hed lost his mind. Then I wondered if perhaps Id been the one to lose it, because once I had loved him, hadnt I?
My head rang. My heart froze. I stood with a travel bag stuffed with nightgowns, pads and two pairs of soft slippers Id sewn while pregnant. And he talked to me as though I were a lazy housewife fresh from a holiday.
You didnt even fetch us from the hospital, I exhaled. I asked the nurse to call a cab myself
You wanted to be independent! he shouted. All through the pregnancy you ran from me. All on your own So keep running.
Bearing a child isnt about weakness. Its about faiththat someone will support you, that you wont be left alone, that a loved one will stay by your side. And if not?
If you cant manage, Ill call my mother, he muttered, disappearing into the bathroom. Shell turn you into a proper housekeeper.
Ah, the plain simplicity of his mother, Margaret Hargreaves. A woman whose glance could boil an egg. Even the street tomcats seemed to avoid her. She wore a grey coat, sported a short bob, and spoke with a voice that sounded like metal. Nobody argued with her, not even the local constable.
I braced myself for a tyrants arrivalscolding, sarcasm, a broom in hand.
Instead she entered silently.
There was something in her eyes, something else. She surveyed the room, took in my dishevelled appearance and my silence.
Are you going to clean? she asked suddenly.
I hadnt managed a word.
After giving birth?! Get down on your knees at once!
I fell silent. She hung her coat, slipped on an apron, grabbed a rag and a bucket, and began scrubbing the floor.
Sometimes kindness arrives in the most unexpected form, even as a sternvoiced woman with a serious stare.
Within half an hour the kitchen smelled of beef stew. I reclined on the sofa, surrounded by cushions, while Margaret Hargreaves rinsed towels, humming, Triplets, now thats something
When my husband returned, phone in hand, grin plastered on his face, she lunged at him like a thunderstorm.
Have you gone mad?! A woman has just delivered three babies! This is surgery, pain, recovery! And you? Washing the floor?
Mother, but you said
Me?! You promised youd manage. That you loved us. That you had everything under control. I believed you!
She sighed, looked at me, and whispered,
Monster. Youre a monster in a human shell.
When a mother sides with another woman, thats a victorybitter, but necessary.
Who ever planted that idea in your head?
He shrugged.
A colleague Paul. He said a Caesarean isnt real birth, that milk is nonsense, that women just make things up
SILENCE! she roared.
He fell quiet.
That very day trouble brewed at his workplace. Colleagues overheard his chatter, and Tanya the same neighbour who had supported me through pregnancy could no longer stand it.
Have you seen a woman after a Csection? Weeks without sleep? Everything hurting?
The foreman called him in and sent him on indefinite leave pending investigation.
Paul, the inspirer, soon faced his own inquiry for harassment and abuse of power. Karma does not rush, but it never misses.
Margaret Hargreaves took my son in. Two weeks later he returned a different boyquiet, clutching a book on parenting, and a pot of stew in his hands.
Im sorry, he knelt. I was foolish, selfish. Give me a chance. One.
I stared at him for a long moment, then said,
One. But if you try again
It wont happen, he interrupted. I swore to your mother. And swearing to her is scarier than swearing to you. Forgive me.
Sometimes a fall is needed to see the error, though not everyone rises. Fate showed me mercy; he received a chance.
From then on things changed. Not overnight, but they did change. He learned to swaddle, to boil porridge, to rise at night. He apologizedfor everything, for every painful day.
And Margaret Hargreaves came every Saturday with fresh scones and the words,
Youre not alone now. Remember that.
And I was no longer alone. I had children, support, a family, and a husband who now flips pancakes and argues with noisy neighbours while our little ones sleep.
There are words that have become my talisman:
Youre not alone now.
