I still recall those early days after the birth, when the world seemed both fresh and demanding. My husband, Colin Reed, and I had just returned from StMarys Hospital in Birmingham with our newborn, Eleanor, and were greeted at the doorstep by my parents and my motherinlaw. We all sat down for a brief tea, but after an hour the guests had departed, leaving us alone with the infant.
Colin, as was his habit, collapsed onto the sofa and turned on the telly, while I set about cleaning the kitchena space that had become, in my four days absence, a bewildering mess. When I finally finished, I fed Eleanor, and, once she was asleep, I tried to lie down on the small cot in the nursery, for the day had proved both exhilarating and exhausting.
I hadnt dozed off before a sharp knocking sounded at the door. Stepping out of the nursery, I found the visitors Colin had already invited in. It was Jane, his older sister, her husband, and two of Janes friends, acquaintances of mine only in passing.
Little brother, were here to celebrate you! Jane boomed. I remember you as a tot, and now lookalready a father! She swarmed Colin, hugging him and planting kisses.
Jane, could you keep it down, please? Eleanor has just fallen asleep, I whispered.
Come off it! Babies that young hear nothing, Jane replied, waving a hand. Youd better set the tableweve brought a cake and some biscuits. The rest is on you, she added.
I laid out the remnants of the supper wed had with my parents. Your spread looks rather meagre, Jane remarked, eyeing the plate.
Im sorry, we werent expecting anyone. Ive just come from the hospital, so any blame belongs to Colinhes been holding down the fort without me, I said.
Ladies, no need to quarrel. Ive ordered three pizzasdifferent flavorsso no one will go hungry, Colin announced.
The company lingered until about nine oclock, when I finally told them I needed to bathe Eleanor and put her back to bed. As they left, Colin muttered under his breath,
Vicky, you could have been a bit more gracious. They came to congratulate us, and you spent the whole time with the baby, then practically sent everyone away at the end.
I snapped back, What could I have done? It was my first day back after the maternity ward. They came to say hello, but at least they brought a cheap rattle for the child.
He then declared, From now on, the baby is the head of this house. Eleanor needs a proper routine. So for the next three months, no more guests, alright?
Ill see to the boys elsewhere if I must, but not here, I replied.
A month passed. Colin went to work, and Eleanor and I stayed at home. The little girl was calm, and I managed the house, though I abandoned elaborate cooking in favour of simple meals. Colin never objected, and life settled into a quiet normality.
Then a new tension surfaced, this time from my motherinlaw, Lydia Anderson. She insisted that the burden of caring for her own eightyyearold mother, Catherine Evans, should fall on me. Catherine lived in a hamlet about a hundred miles from Birmingham, a modest stone cottage with a well, a woodpile, and a yard where the family grew potatoes.
That winter Catherine fell ill with a severe cold and could no longer tend the garden. Lydia decided that I should spend the summer up there to help her.
At first I thought she was joking. I cant take my mother into townher garden is full. Who will look after it? I work myself. Ill visit on weekends, but who will fetch water from the well all week?
The well is only three hundred metres away, but its a heavy burden to carry a full bucket. She only manages half a bucket. And the water is needed for the house and for irrigation. She trundles back and forth all day, Lydia explained.
Are you suggesting I become a water carrier? I asked, bewildered.
You dont have to lug the buckets yourself. Theres a cart; you could load two fortylitre cans and wheel them in. Its not a task beyond you, and you could also weed and water the beds, she replied.
Ill buy all our potatoes and vegetables from the market. Let the people who reap the harvest work the fields, I retorted.
Send Jane then; she doesnt work either, I added.
Jane has two childrenone five, the other threewho need looking after. And young Arthur would have to be pulled from nursery all summer, Lydia argued. What about Eleanor? She wont run off. Feed her, place her in the pram, and youre done.
Do you realise I must take Eleanor to the clinic every month for checkups and vaccinations? I protested.
You could skip the clinics. Shes healthy, and extra trips only risk catching an illness, Lydia countered.
In any case, youll go. No one else is needed. My mother raised all three of my children; I never lingered in maternity leave, she said.
Two months later Lydia handed over the care of my brotherinlaw, Victor, and his son to Jane. Now Catherines health was failing, and Lydia expected us to repay her by assisting.
I respect Catherine. She helped you greatly, but I owe her nothing personally. You, Jane, Victor, and Colin are in her debt, not me, I replied.
One Friday morning, Colin reminded me, Did you pack? Were off to the village tomorrow.
Ive told your mother and Im saying it again: I will not go to any village, let alone take Eleanor there. What if she falls ill? Do you expect me to walk a hundred kilometres to town on foot?
The village you speak of is so remote that even the bus doesnt stoptheres no shop, only a neighbours store a mile away, Colin said.
And you expect me to run two kilometres with a baby just to buy a loaf? I exclaimed. I dont even know if you need Eleanor or not.
When your mother suggested I lug fortylitre cans, you kept silent. Were you really in agreement? How could I lift a full can when I weigh fiftyseven kilograms?
You neednt fill the cans to the brim, Colin suggested. Enough arguing. If your mother said youd go, then youll go. No one else. Father will arrive by ten tomorrow and take you. Pack today.
When Colin left for work, I started gathering my belongings, but first I called my own parents. My mother, a former paediatric nurse, could not believe Lydias plan to imprison my newborn in that remote hamlet.
By the time a child is a year old, you must monitor development. Threemonthold visits to specialists, then again at twelve months! How can you be so reckless? she scolded.
My father quietly loaded the suitcases into the car. We drove to my parents house, where we stayed for a night.
When Colin returned from work and found the house empty, he knew where to look. He rang my phone several times that evening, but I did not answer. He eventually came to the door himself, only to find I had already left.
What have you done? Sent me off to a coal mine of your own makingout to the country for fresh air? Did you create this whole mess for a foolish idea? he demanded.
Yes, I created the problem myself, but not nowtwo years ago, when we married. I liked you: tall, broadshouldered, kind. I didnt realize that behind that charm hid a mothers son, obedient to his mothers wishes. If she had sent me to work in a mine, you would have objected too, I said.
Will you ever come home? he asked.
No, I wont. Home is where you feel safe, loved, protected. You never became that protector. Live with your mother.
Six months later I managed to finalise our separation. The memory of those tangled weeks still lingers, a reminder of how family expectations can turn a simple newborns cradle into a battlefield of wills.
