December 14, 2007
At the train station a nice man strikes up conversation at the automated ticket machines. He has a beard and cool funky clothing and strikes me as the type who would be a considered lover, but whose idiosyncracies would drive me mad.
The train whistles quickly through the black countryside. It's empty, as rush hour has people leaving London as opposed to my journey. I see my reflection in the mirror and don't really recognize myself. My person has shifted and changed, I am not sure which way is up. Beside me is my posh handbag, a Mulberry bag. These days I tote a diaper bag and a whiff of lavendar and baby vomit, to be decked in perfume and a good purse seems so remote.
I look at the purse-I had it in the hospital when I gave birth. It was the last time I used it. My phone beeps and I check it and see a photo of Nora, one day old. I miss them and I don't miss them. I am defined by them and I am my own person. They are my everything and yet I am still me.
When I get to London it's all so familiar, and yet in the months since my weekly commutes, so much has changed. I take the tube to the stop near the company office, which is right in the middle of what's called The City, or the part of London where deals are made and dreams are broken. I walk down a long sidewalk, passing men in ties with shoes too shiny and women in thick coats and whispering handbags. I pass the office, which I scarecly look at. I can't go in there (but I don't want to, anyway) as I don't have my badge with me. I don't even know where my badge is, perhaps in my laptop bag which sits gathering dust in the corner in the bedroom.
I pass a street lit up with Christmas lights. Blues and whites and greens and reds light the alleyway, and I want to bring Nick here in the Baby Bjorn to see them. Nick, my little man, who stares at lights with the deepest of fascination. He would love this alleyway, I think, and I would walk up and down it with him until his fascination wore to exhaustion, and he would sleep in my arms on the train back home.
There is a man peddling in the cold. He's very polite and very kind, and I drop him a coin with a shy "Merry Christmas". I never know the right thing to say.
In my ears I play Christmas music. Josh Groban, actually, because these days all roads lead back to him. I think of Nora, who likes having Christmas carols sung to her (she also likes Abba. At least she didn't inherit her father's love of Blondie.) If I had her here we could walk up the sidewalk at our pace, out of the path of the business suits, and I could hum to her. I would stare into her eyes, because that is her way, she makes eye contact constantly, tipping you into a sea of deep blue and shiny irises, and together we could drown out the blare of the London nightline and just be together.
They are always with me, even when they aren't.
At the bar hugs and exclamations - I wasn't expected. I am congratulated, and told how well I look. I have a glass of wine and catch up with everyone. They are all exactly as I remembered them to be, and I wonder if I am the same, too. I must be. I feel like me, but when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror of the bathroom, I look more angular, more grown-up. Something in the reflection has changed but not in a bad way.
They tell me that people were surprised to hear that I had babies - my pregnancy wasn't common knowledge, and apparently the belief is rife that I am not the maternal type. I congratulate myself for my latest of acting parts. I got them to believe that I am tough and hard and no-nonsense, when the truth is at work I am often frightened, often insecure, and I like nothing more than to sleep with the feel of a warm tiny baby snuggled just above my heart. At work I am impatient and do not suffer fools. At home I can be covered in various baby bodily liquids and still laugh about it.
I am both of these people, and the audience for which my behaviors are intended need never know about the other.
I make my excuses early, having had one glass of wine and many glasses of water. I walk in the cold evening London air, one foot in front of the other. The lights from the hanging Christmas decorations a beacon, a path, a way to follow. Everywhere is Christmas and I am so goddamn glad for it, I want to embrace it all and inahle it in and hold everything deep inside.
I make my way home to my Angus, to my babies, and to my first Christmas as a mother.
- H.
PS - I wrote the above on the train last night, before the picture theft debacle. Had I not already written it, I doubt I would be posting today as I'm pretty depressed about the whole thing. I was kindly alerted by an admin of a Flickr forum I belong to, who had been surfing twin pics in Flickr and saw my photo in a place it shouldn't have been. The asshole still has my photo in his stream despite me filing a notice of infringement on him. I'm hoping Flickr deals with this soon. I think it's as Rose said - perhaps he's copying the pictures because he doesn't know how to favorite them as his entire photostream looks to be stolen from various members, but it still greatly upsets me. I don't think he's a perv and I don't actually worry that much about naughty people getting hold of my baby photos, but my children are precious to me, as are the photos I take. I will post photos from time to time here on my blog, and I will publicly Flickr photos that don't show a lot of detail about the babies. Like I said, if you do want to see photos then let me know your user ID on Flickr (you do need an accout on Flickr, but they're free) and if I know of you through your comments, I will add you.
What gets me most of all is the fact that I love taking photos of the babies, and I love showing them to anyone who I'm not boring with them. Like all mothers, I think my children are beautiful. And I went through so much to have them - 5 rounds of IVF - that all I want to do is celebrate them in every way. I'm depressed this has happened, because the daily photos were, for me, a reminder of how far we've come and how amazing the journey is.
Here's to hoping the situation is rectified, and soon.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
09:54 AM
| Comments (19)
| Add Comment
Post contains 1277 words, total size 7 kb.
Posted by: Suzie at December 14, 2007 10:56 AM (weSjv)
Posted by: Angela at December 14, 2007 12:13 PM (DGWM7)
Posted by: Lisa Y at December 14, 2007 12:42 PM (m1kQi)
Posted by: Teresa at December 14, 2007 02:04 PM (p9/HN)
Posted by: Mr.Thomas at December 14, 2007 02:33 PM (STb8M)
Posted by: Tracey at December 14, 2007 02:57 PM (jgdKP)
Posted by: kim at December 14, 2007 03:14 PM (m+kW/)
Posted by: Cori at December 14, 2007 03:16 PM (wGDlm)
Posted by: Cheryl at December 14, 2007 04:05 PM (n3lCA)
Posted by: The other Amber at December 14, 2007 04:54 PM (zQE5D)
Posted by: oddybobo at December 14, 2007 05:07 PM (mZfwW)
Posted by: Erica at December 14, 2007 05:53 PM (AZFra)
Posted by: Margi at December 14, 2007 05:55 PM (KF0g8)
Posted by: megan at December 14, 2007 06:15 PM (1O5Qi)
Posted by: Lisa at December 14, 2007 06:24 PM (JSeOy)
Posted by: ethansmama at December 14, 2007 08:30 PM (6ooUu)
Posted by: Matt at December 14, 2007 09:47 PM (/n9kT)
Posted by: annie at December 14, 2007 10:26 PM (AiJXe)
Posted by: Irene at December 15, 2007 03:59 AM (RL+iu)
35 queries taking 0.0611 seconds, 143 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.