FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN

Listening to oneself.

Although the last few days have been better, my daughter has a sore throat, a sore head and a fever again. We are both exhausted. But at the end of the day on Saturday, she insisted on carrying the water gallon from the little shop next door to us to the house. Finally she rolled it because it was too heavy. When we got home, we ended up lying on the bed in agony. And today we have to go and get electricity; it's going to be a hard ordeal.

It reminds me of all the years in our old life when we were in similar situations. But back then we had to hide the fact that we were ill so as not to be scolded or insulted by the "other". I remember a gastrointestinal illness that left me totally flat. I had to take the children to school, do the cleaning, ironing and cooking to avoid him taking it out on the children and calling me a lazy bum who lives off him. I thought I was dying because I was dragging myself along.

There was also the time when my daughter had a backache for several days. "He" kept saying that she wanted to imitate him, because "he" often had back pain. One evening we had to go to a friend's house for an aperitif. I was reluctant to go because my daughter, in addition to her back pain, was starting to have a fever. "He" threw a tantrum, shouting that she was always doing everything to piss us off and that the kids were always "ruining" her life. My daughter said that we could go out and that she would phone us if there was any trouble. This she did in the evening but he insisted so much in front of his friends, that she was often acting, that we didn't move. The next day I took her to the emergency room and the verdict was pyelonephritis. I slept with her in hospital and ran home in the morning to look after the children and the meals because "he" didn't want to change his schedule. 

And then there was the miscarriage I had before my fifth child was born. I had a haemorrhage but 'he' wouldn't take a day off work for it and I had to carry on with my daily life with four children between 11 and 2. As I was just crying and had no appetite for anything until I was hospitalised for a curettage, 'he' took the children to spend the days at the weekend with my parents. I stayed in the dark during this time, not eating anything. When I was finally hospitalised, I was left alone until it was time to go out when he came with the four of them to get me. Everyone was in awe of this model dad.

I don't need to tell you about the nights when the children were sick and we couldn't disturb him because we would have to spank him. The wounds and sores that had to be hidden so as not to get a spanking. I'll give you the gift of the times when seeing us at our worst "him" would make us leave in a burst of laughter.

I remember clearly the birth of my last one. We were "him", the baby and myself in the delivery room. I was feeling weaker and weaker and I told "him" that there was something unusual and that we should call the midwife. "He refused to disturb her. A few moments later she came by and rushed over saying I was bleeding. She infused me, explaining that she was putting in a product that would restart the contractions but would normally stop the bleeding. She explained to me by stroking my forehead that she was sorry but it was going to be painful. I can still see myself with my face turned towards my child and her father sitting next to me, tears streaming down my cheek. I was exhausted and I felt like labour was starting again. And I see 'him' again very clearly staring at me without any emotion without a word or a gesture. Very calm, just waiting to see what would happen. At no time did "he" ask any questions, show any sign of concern or tenderness. 

My daughter told me this morning that I should stop doing, tidying, cleaning when I'm tired. Things will wait for me and I don't need to do all that anymore. We're not risking anything anymore.

As always with children, the truth is there, they show us. I just have to take it in.