Authors: Sinead Moriarty
There were tons of responses to my last posting, but I didn’t want to read them yet. I needed to write and get my hurt and anger off my chest.
Threescompany:
It was my fortieth birthday today and my husband forgot. So did both my sisters. I am so upset I can barely type. My eyes are swollen from crying. Is it too much to ask for my family – the people I love most – to remember my fortieth birthday? I NEVER forget their birthdays. I always call and make a fuss. But the worst thing is, I thought they were all ignoring me because they were organizing a big surprise. Well, I can assure you there is no bigger surprise than no one remembering.
I feel like such a fool. I was so excited. I thought, finally, a day for me. A day about me. A day where I become visible again – albeit briefly. A day where I get spoilt, pampered, focused on. How stupid of me to think it would actually happen. I am insignificant. I don’t count. No one remembered. No one cared. No one bothered. I know I sound like a whingey teenager, but it was a big deal to me. It mattered to me. My day-to-day life is drudgery. I never get a break, and now that we have even less money, I can’t treat myself to a nice mascara or body cream every now and then to give me a lift.
We were supposed to go to Paris for my birthday, but I cancelled it because we couldn’t afford it and that was fine. But the fact that I didn’t even get a card from anyone in my family makes me furious. My younger sister has the flu. You can still pick up the phone and call someone when you have the flu. Or she could have asked one of her many members of staff to go out and buy a card and post it for her. And my older sister, who I have been counselling on the phone almost daily about her new baby, didn’t even bother to call either. They are so wrapped up in their own lives that I don’t register. They only have one child each and they’re too busy to call me. I have FOUR kids, and even when the triplets were just born and I couldn’t see straight from exhaustion, I remembered my sisters’ birthdays.
As for my husband, he’s been so grumpy lately and distracted with work – I’m sick of it. And the worst part is that he’s normally really good about birthdays. He never forgets and always gets me a really funny card and writes a lovely note to me on the inside. I never would have thought he’d forget. I know we’re all busy and I know that birthdays aren’t that important in the bigger scheme of things, but when your days are spent cleaning up after others and cooking and driving your kids around, a day where the focus is on you is a big treat. It’s nice for your family to notice you, remember you exist, remember you matter, remember that you too like cakes and candles and cards … Remember that you’re not invisible.
26
Louise
Julie left me a message telling me what a selfish cow I was. I feel really bad about forgetting her birthday, but I honestly don’t know what day it is. Clara is a nightmare. I shouted at her last night. I just lost it. It was four o’clock in the morning. I had been up since midnight, feeding her, burping her and pacing the floor with her in the sling. I was beyond tired, beyond worn out. But every time I laid her down in her Moses basket she started screeching.
I can’t go on like this. A new night nurse came last week but left after three nights, saying she was too tired to do any more. I tried bribing her – I offered to double her rate – but she said she had two kids of her own to look after during the day and she couldn’t function without sleep. Well, neither can I!
The agency can’t find me anyone else at the moment. So I’ve been up all night every night for the last six nights. I had to go for a nap in work yesterday. I told Jasmine I was not to be disturbed and I put my head down on my desk and passed out for an hour. I woke up with a horrible crick in my neck and dribble all over my arm. I’m turning into a mess. I’m turning into one of those bleary-eyed mothers who look at you vacantly when you talk to them. I always thought it was because they had given up work and their brains had turned to mush, but now I know, now I understand – it’s sleep deprivation.
But I can’t have this. I can’t work at my level without sleep. I have to be alert, sharp, on the ball. I can’t read long, complex, intricate documents with my eyes swimming from exhaustion. I can’t make decisions when my brain is three steps behind everyone else’s in a meeting.
I haven’t been for a run in three weeks. I haven’t got the energy. I’m eating things I would never normally eat. I had banoffi pie for dessert yesterday. It’s full of fat and cream and sugar. I don’t eat sugary things – but I needed the energy rush it gave me. I’m also drinking at least ten cups of coffee a day. I feel awful physically. I hate eating badly and not exercising. I’ve lost control of my life. I need to get it back, but I don’t know how.
I took Clara to a different GP last week. I recorded her screaming and played it to him so he would understand how bad it was and not fob me off like the other doctor. But he just said the same bloody thing …
‘She’s thriving. Don’t worry, she’ll grow out of it.’
‘When? I need a date.’
‘It’s impossible to say, but almost all children grow out of it by nine months.’
I burst into tears. I couldn’t believe he had just potentially sentenced me to six more months of this torture. ‘There must be something you can give her? This can’t be normal,’ I pleaded.
‘Lots of babies are unsettled in the first few months,’ he said soothingly.
‘If all babies were like this, the population would be extinct. Do not tell me that this is what all babies are like because I don’t believe you.’
‘You seem very stressed, Louise. Maybe you should consider getting some help.’
‘HELP! No one will look after her for me at night. She’s OK during the day in crèche. It’s at night she goes ballistic.’
‘A lot of women get blue after their babies are born. It’s not easy. Perhaps you should consider taking something to help you with this stage of motherhood. Post-natal depression is very common.’
‘I’m not depressed, I’m demented. I don’t need drugs, I need sleep,’ I snapped. Clearly he wasn’t getting it either. I picked Clara up and took her home.
She’d turned twelve weeks and nothing had changed. If anything she was even worse. I called Mum.
‘Remember you said I stopped roaring at twelve weeks? Was it exactly twelve weeks? Or was it thirteen?’
‘It was forty-one years ago, Louise. I can’t remember. It was around three months.’
‘How can you not remember? The day this child stops screaming will be etched in my memory for ever because it will be the best day of my bloody life.’
‘Have you tried gripe water?’
‘Yes, Mum, I’ve tried everything.’
‘And you’ve had her checked for ear and urine infections and tonsillitis?’
‘Yes yes yes. Everything’s been checked. She’s fine.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to sit it out. She’ll wake up one day and her little tummy will have settled.’
‘Did I cry all night long?’
‘Yes, Louise, you did.’
‘How did you cope?’
‘On bad days I reminded myself how lucky I was to have a healthy baby. And, to be fair, your father helped me out some nights. It’s hard for you on your own. I warned you, having a baby with no father is very difficult.’
‘I’d marry someone now just for the help.’
‘Louise, you are not to go and do anything foolish. Your life is complicated enough.’
‘Tell me about it. I’m sorry, Mum, I have to go. I’ve got another bloody meeting.’
‘Why don’t you come home for the weekend and I’ll mind Clara at night for you and give you a break?’
‘Really? Would you?’
‘Of course I would. I’d love to see her. Come home and get some rest.’
‘That would be great, Mum. Thanks.’
‘By the way, your brother’s article got printed in the
Irish Times.’
‘What article?’
‘He wrote a piece about the Heathrow expansion being a disgrace and they printed it. It was a full page. I must say it was very well written. Your father was pleased. He said he was glad his money wasn’t entirely wasted on Gavin’s education. At least he was literate.’
‘That’s good news. He left a message on my phone, but I’ve been too busy to call him back.’
‘I hope you called Julie. She’s very upset.’
‘I’ve left messages for her, but she hasn’t called back. I think I’m getting the cold shoulder.’
‘Well, try her again. She felt very let down.’
‘OK, I will, but I just don’t have time right now. I’ll try her later.’
‘I’ll let you go. Call me when you’ve decided which weekend to come home and I’ll make up your old cot for little Clara.’
‘I will. Thanks, Mum.’
I dug my nails into my thigh, forcing my eyes open as Lifechange TV’s lawyers went over the finer points of the contract. Gordon Hanks’s purchase offer of £30 million plus the TV station’s debt had been accepted and we were now finalizing the contract details. The meeting had been running for two hours and I was struggling.
‘Are you all right?’ Dominic whispered.
‘Fine – why?’
‘You look like you’re about to nod off.’
‘I do not.’
‘Is the baby not sleeping?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘You’re exhausted. Why don’t you go home? I can finish up here.’
‘This is my deal. I’m going nowhere.’ I poured myself another cup of coffee, added three sugar lumps and forced my eyes wide open. I didn’t hear a word of the remaining forty minutes of the meeting: my brain literally shut down. This was a disaster. I was scared now. I had to make sure Gordon’s purchase of Lifechange went smoothly. I had to stay on my toes. Alex was counting on me.
When the meeting finally ended, I rushed back to my office and called the night-nurse agency again. ‘You have to find me someone! I can’t function in work. I’ll pay double – I’ll even pay triple. I need sleep!’
‘I’m sorry, Louise,’ Gwen, the owner of the agency, said. ‘We have no one this week. I might have someone for two nights next week. Did you try the other numbers I gave you?’
‘Yes. There’s no one available this week.’
‘I’ll do my best to get you help next week,’ Gwen reassured me.
I was facing at least five more nights of no sleep. I hung up, put my head in my hands and sobbed. How was I going to get through the next week?
There was a gentle knock on the door. ‘I’m busy,’ I croaked. I didn’t want anyone in the office to see me crying. It would be a nail in my career coffin. They’d all be talking about how I wasn’t able to juggle the baby and work. No way was I letting that happen. Alex had to think I was still at the top of my game.
Jasmine’s head popped around the door. I swung my chair away from her, so she wouldn’t see me crying. ‘I’m off now, Louise. Do you need anything before I go?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Louise?’
‘What is it?’ I wanted her to get out and leave me to gather myself.
‘Here.’ A tissue appeared in front of me. ‘I knew you’d crack soon,’ she said, leaning against my desk as I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. ‘You look utterly worn out.’
‘I’m fine. I just had a bad night.’
‘Louise, you don’t have to put on a front with me. I have three kids. My second daughter didn’t sleep for eighteen months. I almost had a nervous breakdown.’
‘How did you cope?’
‘I spent a lot of time in the ladies’ bathroom here crying.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
Jasmine threw her head back and roared laughing. ‘Say anything – to you? Come on, Louise, you made it crystal clear from the day I started that you never wanted to hear about my personal life.’
She was right. I had always changed the subject when she brought up her kids. I’d wanted to keep the relationship purely professional. I’d wanted a really efficient secretary, not a buddy.
‘I’m sorry if I was rude.’
‘You were just trying to keep up with the men. It’s dog-eat-dog in here. But I can tell you now, Louise, you cannot raise a baby alone and keep working the way you do. You’ll burn out.’
‘It would be fine if Clara would just bloody sleep. She’s up all night, every night. If she slept like a normal baby, I could manage. I have everything set up for the daytime so that I can work freely. But I can’t function on no sleep.’
‘Why is she up?’ Jasmine asked.
‘I don’t really know. She screams after every bottle and seems to find it really hard to digest. The doctors keep saying it’s just a bit of colic or reflux and tell me to give her Infacol and Gaviscon and raise her bed and she’ll be fine, she’ll grow out of it … but she’s getting worse.’
‘Does her body go rigid after her bottles?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does she do really loud burps that sound as if they come from way down in her stomach?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is she happy when she’s upright?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does she vomit her bottles back up?’
‘No.’
‘She has reflux. Not mild over-in-three-months reflux. She has the bad reflux that my Jane had.’
‘Oh, Jesus, you said she didn’t sleep for eighteen months.’ I began to cry again.
‘That’s because I kept getting fobbed off by doctors telling me it was colic, a little reflux, she’ll grow out of it, et cetera, et cetera. But she didn’t and it was only when I found Dr Jacobs that I finally got her sorted. What Clara needs is Losec. It’s a miracle cure for reflux.’
‘
What
? There’s a cure? Where is this doctor? I’ll take her now.’
‘Calm down. I’ll make you an appointment. The Losec takes about three to five days to kick in and then your life and, most importantly, Clara’s will change. The acidic burning will stop after every feed and she’ll be able to sleep without pain. The poor little thing is in agony, but the Losec will sort her out.’
‘Oh, God, thank you, Jasmine, thank you so much. You’ve just saved my life.’ I got up and spontaneously hugged her.
‘Steady on there, Louise, you’re invading my personal space.’
‘Sorry.’ I stepped back.
Jasmine grinned. ‘Relax, I’m joking. Come on, let’s call the doctor and get poor Clara sorted out.’
I was on a high after seeing Dr Jacobs, who did not dismiss me as a fussy mother, or tell me that Clara would miraculously stop crying one day. She was kind and patient and thorough and gave me the magic prescription that would make her better.
‘Most children’s reflux clears up within a year. In some rare cases it can go on longer. But don’t worry, we’ll monitor her closely and see how she goes,’ Dr Jacobs assured me.
I went home, gave Clara her medicine, put her down to sleep and called Julie to tell her the good news.
‘Yes?’ she snapped.
‘I’ve finally got Clara sorted,’ I gushed.
‘Great.’
‘I’m so relieved – I was going crazy. I was so worried about work.’
‘Right.’
‘Come on, Julie. I’ve left you five messages apologizing profusely for forgetting your birthday and I’m going to buy you an amazing present to make up for it.’
‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to be completely forgotten and overlooked?’
‘I’m sorry – we’re all sorry.’
‘Sophie still hasn’t bothered calling me. She just sent me a text. I’m seriously pissed off with her.’
‘Well, Mum said she’s still sick. She must have caught something awful. I haven’t heard from her in weeks either.’
‘She’s going to have to do a lot of grovelling.’
‘Speaking of grovelling, how’s Harry getting on?’
‘He keeps saying he’s sorry and he took me out for dinner on the Saturday night, but it didn’t work. It was just the two of us and I was still furious and he’s just not himself at the moment. He’s very distracted. STOP STICKING YOUR FINGER IN THE SOCKET. YOU’LL ELECTROCUTE YOURSELF.’
‘Is he still working on that project?’
‘Yes, unfortunately.’
‘When will it be finished?’
‘He says he has another month or so to go. The sooner the better. I want the old Harry back. He always seems miles away and he’s working late, which he never used to do. The only good thing about being a civil servant – because it certainly isn’t the big salary – is that you never work late. I SAID, NO JUMPING OFF THE KITCHEN TABLE. YOU’LL HURT YOURSELF.’
‘What’s the project?’
‘He says it’s some kind of new programming thing and that it’s too technical to explain.’
‘Will he get a bonus or a promotion out of it?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Well, what’s the point, then? Why be stressed and working harder for no gain?’
‘He said it’ll look good on his CV.’
‘Fair enough. I suppose in this climate you have to try to impress your bosses.’
‘I TOLD YOU THAT WOULD HAPPEN. Sorry, I have to go. Luke’s just fallen off the table and cut his lip open.’
‘OK, ’bye.’
Four days later Clara slept for six hours in a row – I was in heaven.