Felicity came awake quickly. She had become so good at waking up instantly that she had forgotten how to sleep soundly.

It didn’t matter. She slipped her feet into her slippers and tried not to shiver after the warmth of the bed. Her husband was toasty warm, an energy source that just kept radiating.

She had turned off the baby monitor but she could still hear Brigit. It sounded like a crescendo was on its way. She yawned and tiptoed down the hall. It was still so hard. That said at every milestone she still reflected that the week or month before had been harder. The first two weeks are the worst, she had said. Then the first six weeks. Then three months was the killer. Six months felt like some kind of summit where she could stretch tall and breathe freely again. Now, at nine months, it seemed that had been a false summit.

The hinges to Brigit’s door had been well oiled. The door swung so it felt weightless. Ahh. Easy problem to solve. Her nose announced it. An epic poo. Clean nappy, pjs and sheets required. Brigit fell asleep mid clean-up and with relief Felicity transferred her back into the cot. Hooray, and back to bed for me.

She still went back up the hallway slowly, listening to be sure there were no more sounds before she fell back into bed. Once up she could stay up if need be, but it was torture to drag herself out of bed once she had retreated back into it.

Nathan was snoring softly and had rolled over onto her side of the bed. She put the monitor back on and slid under the covers, pushing gently to make Nathan move over and give her more room. It must have been her night. He rolled over, and for once didn’t take the entire doona with him.

She was almost sleepy, but still wondering if maybe she should have given Brigit a top-up feed, just in case, so she could be sure of getting the most sleep she could. It didn’t matter. Brigit had been so sleepy and settled she would probably last. At work Felicity had dealt with complex decisions all the time. Strangely, that just seemed like an intellectual game of analysis, problem solving and reason. It was nothing to the decision making a first time mum had to make. To do, or not to do, that was the question.

Maybe work had been easier because it was someone else’s problem. Maybe it was because it had felt like the world was on her shoulders then. Now her world was sleeping in the next room. It had a face and a heart and a soul and she saw how every action or inaction was received. There were mysteries, but no secrets.

She sighed and began to dose.

She heard Brigit sigh and stir. No, she thought. Go to sleep bubba, you can do it. I’m sending you the sleepy feeling. Close your eyes, let sleep be your surprise. There was quiet. Some little babble sounds. Quiet. Go to sleep Brigit, go to sleep! Babbling. No, bubba, sleepy time. Shhhh.

Brigit sang a loud babbling song. Then quiet. Maybe, just maybe she’d be lucky. Nope. She is Brigit. Hear her roar!

Slippers back on. Brigit must be thirsty or hungry. Nothing else came to mind. Two teeth had come through last week, and she didn’t have wind or anything to eat that may give her gas.

Felicity opened the door and Brigit fell quiet immediately. She waved and made her ‘da da da’ sounds in her real voice. There were only tiny traces of tears.

Felicity smiled at the welcome. Cheeky bubba. Let’s have a feed then.

She held Brigit close. She was such a warm armful. Their eyes locked. Then Brigit scanned the room curiously. Eyes back on mum. So precious. Her hair was starting to grow and it was a like an afro, but fine and straight, each silky spike sticking straight up. Felicity ran her cheek against it and let it tickle her nose. Her baby was going to have absolutely beautiful hair. Brigit would always be beautiful. Felicity was almost sure that opinion wasn’t just bias.

Brigit stopped feeding and dosed off. She was smiling and holding her own hands, head very heavy and relaxed right into Felicity. Could she get Brigit back into bed without waking her up, or should she sit here and hold her longer?

They both sighed at the same time. Felicity’s head fell back in the rocking chair and she let her eyes relax on her daughter’s face. She’d just sit a minute. She hummed softly. I would stay awake just to hear you breathing (and I frequently do, she thought), watch you smile when you’re sleeping, while you’re far away and dreaming. Nathan had shown her a YouTube clip with that song and a baby trying desperately not to go to sleep. Great song, too many memes. And really, if Nathan watched her in her sleep she’d find it creepy. She was sure she’d know. She got self-conscious so easily. But it was a perfect song for her and bubba. For lots of mums with bubs. Every moment spent with you is a moment I’ll treasure.

But I need sleep now so I can treasure tomorrow’s moments. Back to bed, Brigit. She had learnt to stand with her arms full of baby. To somehow keep her upper body still and stable while she moved. It was astonishing the things your body managed to do when you didn’t want to wake a baby.

This time she moved down the hallway quickly. Brigit had everything she needed. It was unusual for her to need that extra feed, so she really should sleep till morning now. Well, it was morning, but there were still a couple of hours before the day properly started.

She gave a huge yawn, and was compelled to follow it up with a second jaw-breaking one. Crawling into bed a third came. So tired. Not the tiredest she had been. She had managed much worse (that first two weeks, then the first six weeks, then the first three months...) but it still felt shattering. Perhaps not quite so torturous or psychosis inducing, but bad enough that her body didn’t want to move anymore and her mind couldn’t be bothered to try and make it. It didn’t even matter that she wasn’t entirely comfortable. She’d be asleep in a minute. It shouldn’t even take a minute.

There.

An eye sprang half opened. The light on the monitor had flashed. She heard Brigit stomp her feet and squeal. Really? Really?

Not happening.

She must have dosed for a few minutes. Not long, but it felt like she took a long time to regain conscious thought. Brigit was crying again. Not her ‘help I really need something’ cry, or her ‘right now’ cry and not her ‘I’m waiting, mum’ cry. It was a new cry that Felicity had been hearing for about a week and what it meant was unclear to her.

It was five o’clock. She trudged down the hall, zipping up her hoodie as she went and scuffing her slippers on the floor boards. What is it Brig? What’re you trying to tell me?

Opening the door. Surprise.

Brigit had managed to pull herself up onto her feet and was clutching the cot rails. Felicity had never seen her stand herself up before. Brigit grinned and waved with both hands. And down she went, howling.

Felicity scooped her up and held her tightly with one hand on the back of the bumped head. The crying stopped immediately and she felt Brigit push away from her. It hurt. She wasn’t done with the comforting.

Brigit patted Felicity’s face and smiled. Did you see what I did, Mum? Did you? Did you? Her eyes were round and delighted. Cheeks quivering from constant smiles.

“Who’s my precious, clever girl?” Felicity whispered softly, pulling Brigit back into a big cuddle.

They sat down together in the chair. No way was this little girl going back to sleep.

Brigit babbled softly and clapped her hands. Felicity let her cheek get tickled by that promising hair. So many things would be happening to them, soon.

Nathan found them there, in the chair, sound asleep. He lifted Brigit back into the cot.

Felicity stirred. Nathan took her hand and led her back to bed.

“Is Brigit ok?” he whispered.

Felicity nodded and yawned.

“What did she want?”

“She didn’t want me to miss a thing,” she mumbled.

And then she was asleep, a smile on her face. Sweet, sweet dreams. 


© Lorinda Tang 2013


Sherie
26/5/2013 07:25:20 am

Stirred the emotions and the memories... a beautiful reflection on motherhood, thank you x

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Anneli
26/5/2013 09:44:57 am

Delightfully true to life. Your story made me smile :)

Reply
Ginny
26/5/2013 09:22:43 pm

Well captured!

Reply



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    Author

    Stories are universal and may be the simplest way to communicate the truth of our experience and the core of our ideas. 

    This blog is a collection of short stories exploring the moods and textures of motherhood. 

    Put your feet up, and enjoy!

    Please note that all characters and events are fictional and any similarities to other people or places are unintentional and purely coincidental. 

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