not caught, no cot
the minute people found out charles and i were expecting triplets, many announced, "i bet you will now have one naturally". they said it in a knowing sort of voice.
what is so unnatural about conceiving children in a laboratory? that the woman is passed out? don’t know what part of the world you’re from, folks, but let me reassure you, it is not uncommon for children to be created while one or both partners are passed out. (or pretending to be).
three years post triplets, the predictions for their miracle sibling continue. magnificent chalres and i continue along in our non birth control manner. we’re careful-ish with dates, but not extraordinarily. the best way to describe our birth control is to say we are confident in our infertility. i’ve got fibroids growing all over the place, i barely ovulate…not a good candidate for pregnancy. not to worry.
yet people like to believe we will have another baby, and thus have plenty to say when they hear we are ridding ourselves of baby gear.
to be honest, losing the baby gear is tough.
there was the little white crib, sebastian’s fourth home. his first home was my chest where he slept for the first two nights at the matilda hospital. what a good baby he was. the third night, he slept on charles chest. the fourth night, he slept in a a4 box that charles lined with a blanket for him (can you tell we had experience taking in stray animals? but not so much experience with kids at the time?). and after fretting that the box wasn’t such a great home, he was moved to the little white crib.
the little white crib was also home to the triplets. first jasper, then sela, then jasper and sela, then jasper, sela and carys. they slept together side by side, swaddled like sausages in their casings. until it was time for jasper and carys to find their own little white cribs. (sela got the little white crib because it was apparent from the first that she was the one who would try to climb out of the crib first and lo and behold, she was. the little white crib was deeper than the other two.)
the little white crib has teethmarks of rage from "undeserved" timeouts, dents from falls, absorbed tears…the little white crib was the scene of where every mother has that watermark moment in her life, when her child raises their arms to be lifted up.
the little white crib has been searched as thoroughly as any suspected drug thief for hidden soothers, the little white crib almost shone in the darkness when sweaty children were coughing and getting over three day sicknesses.
the little white crib is just a symbol of days gone by.
i think that’s the problem. they are days gone by. i certainly dont want to relive those days with my four or any more, but letting go of the physical is such a definite acknowledgement those days are gone.
today i was lying reading "Franklin in the dark" to sebastian and i was stroking his leg and i realised that there is going to be a time when he doesn’t let me scratch his calf.
i wonder if i will want to, when he is all grown up, if i will ever get the urge just to cuddle him again.
i have always disliked the book "LOVE YOU FOREVER" thinking that the mother is a little bit off her rocker, but as i get rid of the cots and rockers in my house, i am beginning to feel a little sorry for her.
