Other people's children
The friend of a friend has just given birth to her first child. "How
did it go?" my friend asked Sharon. "Brilliant, just brilliant," said
Sharon. "No drugs. I just had faith in my own body to give birth and
being so positive got me through it." As I remembered my own childbirth
experience (let's just say it involved a lot of drugs), I tried
to remind myself that Beanie arriving safely was the important thing, that jealousy is a sin, that my delivery could have been much, much worse,
but a sense of inadequacy crept over me.
Looking after Ben has proved a breeze, at least if Sharon is
to be believed. "He doesn't cry. No, really, he doesn't cry. And he's
slept through the night ever since he was born." My jaw fell open when
I heard that and I had to fight the smirk that crept across my face.
"Really?" I managed. "That's.... unusual."
"And how's feeding going?" asked my friend, adopting her most determined
smile. "Really well," replied Sharon. "He latched himself on as soon as
he was born and he's been feeding for up to an hour at a time. In the day. He's never hungry at night." Baby Ben woke up at this point, perhaps aware that his
food intake was under discussion. His gusty cry somewhat belied what
mother had said earlier, but we pretended we hadn't heard and said nothing.
After all, she had just been through childbirth, even if it was
a doddle and she really had given birth to a child destined to be the
next Dalai Lama.
At the sound of Ben's cry, Sharon eyed him like one might a wild
animal, picked him up, shuffled her bottom around, reached for one
boob, then seemed to think better of it, yanked up her jumper on the
other side and gingerly unclipped her nursing bra. As she did so, folds
and folds of saggy stomach flesh fell out over her maternity jeans, and I began
to feel sorry for her. After some seconds of further fumbling under her
jumper, she extracted a disc of sodden tissue that she placed on the
floor next to me, at some distance from herself and the howling infant. I tried not to look at it, in case it put her off
what was proving to be quite a delicate procedure.
After all this, baby Ben, now very wide awake indeed, decided he
wasn't really peckish after all and refused to latch on. But eventually,
Sharon persuaded him to feed. An expression of intense pain
flashed across her face. All bragging, indeed any talking at all on her part, ceased. About three minutes later Ben lost interest and
detached himself from his mother's chest. I swear a roguish grin crossed his two-week-old face.
As for his mother, a look of disappointment and guilt replaced the furrowed concentration
on her face. "Feeding's going really well, but still, I'm thinking
of going to a breastfeeding support clinic on Friday," she said. Truly, I am a horrible person. For at last, when I heard that, I started to warm to her.
Posted
13 March 2008 12:19