Maternity Ward, East Melbourne; April 2003
So here we are, just the two of us. You rest and writhe alternately. You stare with that myopic expression – I have no idea what you can see, perceive, feel. It’s the first time we have been alone together.
My body is exhausted, my mind is a swamp of primal responses, but I am still high on opiate-like endorphins. And so very present.
The midwives are attending to other new mums or about-to-be mums. Paul’s putting our stuff in the car to go home. I am a bit nervous that it’s now just the two of us, but that says more about me than you.
I knew we had to sway slowly together. I started to hum a beloved tune which just came to life in my mind (as songs always had since as early as I can remember). It seemed the right one, low and soothing….
We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
Ere the bonnie boat was won
As we sailed into the mystic
I have never been a ‘baby person’ – those women who rush over to see the new baby of a work colleague when they come to visit. Wanting to hold the baby, smell the baby, do that weird high pitched baby talk. Give me a dog over a baby any day, I always thought.
As I said to a friend not so many years earlier when we spoke of people’s need to have children, “I just don’t get it.” And I didn’t, until I did. At which point there was nothing to get – nothing to agonise over, weigh up, convince myself of.
Suddenly what seemed like something other women did – as far removed from me as the thought of parachuting out of a plane – just kind of took residence in the deepest place inside me. I became an adventurer who was ready to take that unknown, but much-travelled track. I trusted in my body to do what it innately knew to do. I had faith in something.
Now here we are – you and I. I cannot really articulate the shift that took place to get me from that cynical person of just a few years ago to this raw-nerve, all-feeling, highly-tuned-in mess of hormones and emotions. One thing has simply replaced the other, an evolution.
You start to whimper restlessly, starting to cry – do you want to be fed? Are you scared? Do I need to change your nappy? I ticked off all those things, realising that there was no simple fix for this.
You are new – freshly baked. You are unsure. This world must seem so strange. The feel of clothes, of blankets, of someone else’s skin touching you. It all must be light years away from floating in a warm sea, suspended in your own protective bag.
You looked at me, sort of, with those dark, dark eyes – almost black. Just like an animal – all raw nerves and instinct.
We will just trust in each other, that’s all there is right now.
The midwives are attending to other new mums or about-to-be mums. Paul’s putting our stuff in the car to go home.
There was just you and I and this song….
And I wanna rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And together we will float
Into the mystic
Come on girl
Too late to stop now
© Chris Phillips.
Lovely story Chris. I remember leaving hospital with my first-born, expecting the staff to stop me at the door to say I was a fraud and couldn’t possibly be trusted to look after a baby. How’s your 12-year-old turned out?
On another point, did you see 70-year-old Van Morrison being knighted last week? Bad, bad comb-over. (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/celebritynews/12140490/Newly-knighted-Van-Morrison-promises-Prince-Charles-he-wont-be-retiring.html)
Thanks Hugh, I really get that ‘fraudulent’ feeling…hehe. I think I still feel like that at times – still making it up as I go along & wondering what my kids will end up in therapy for due to me! That dark eyed baby is indeed now 12 (& does have dark brown eyes, reminiscent of another Van song) & just started high school. She also has an 8 year old sister. I will always remember that feeling of the first days though. My 8 year old was born in an ambulance – we didn’t even make it to the hospital…but that’s a whole other story without a soundtrack! Hey, Van is looking Charlie in the eye & almost smiling in some of those photos – remarkable! He is a grumpy old bugger but such an amazing musician. The comb-over has to go though, surely?!
Chris. x
Evocative story Chris, you’ve captured those strange emotions of new parenthood beautifully.
A Van song that’s on the regular play list at our house too.
Thanks J. What a song! x
This brings back a few memories – well done!
I’ve parachuted out of a plane – giving birth was easier, but no less a wild ride.
Hold on tight for the teenage years next.
It all flashes by so quickly.
Thanks Vicki. I know I changed my mind about dogs to babies, but I am sure as hell not jumping out of a plane in this lifetime – & I can’t believe you did that! In April the little dark eyed dear will be 13, so I guess officially a teen then. She’s still sweet & not an eye-roller just yet, crossing my fingers….x
Wonderful, thank you.
A story I can relate to, being a relatively new Dad, and a chance to listen to a good song I didn’t previously know.
Thanks Nathan – best of luck with your new dad-ness…you won’t need it though. x
Beautifully written Chris. Not only a great performer and a loving mother, but a talented writer as well.
Georgie
Oh Georgie you sweet talker, you! Haha…hope life is lovely where you are. Thanks. x
What a beautiful story, Chris. I could feel the soft, shared tenderness of that tiny new creature and her mother as I read your story. Being in wonder to the mystery called forth a perfect song for the moment.
Stephen Andrew
Hey thanks Stephen – you Rockwiz superstar, you! (Just happened to be watching the repeat Sat night….”hey, I know that guy!”) I love your comment, it’s as evocative as the story. x
Great piece, Chris. Yeah, i know how you feel. i ‘didn’t get it’ until I had a child. The moment Eloise was dragged out of her poor mum, Macduff style, and lifted into the cold white air of the operating theatre, everything that was previously important to me moved happily, quietly to the side. This is what it’s all about. Can hardly recall life before Eloise.
Hey thanks Andrew. It’s like life gets divided into two sections once you have kids – ‘before them’ & ‘everything else’….& do you also wonder what the hell you did to waste all that free time you used to have??! Haha.
It was like you were recounting my own experience as a new Dad, fresh in my mind from 2 weeks ago to the hour…except to a different soundtrack. Hope to hear more…
Thanks Jeff. I love that my experience of 13 years ago, written less than 1 year ago, still resonates with yours now. We all want to be suspended in time, if only in words or song. I’ll be singing this beauty at the Newport Folk Fest very soon with Stereo Stories & even for me, words cannot express how happy that makes me. So what would your soundtrack be – hey, maybe you should write a story about it! Haha. x