Sitting isn't going to help me. Since Izzy left last week I put on two kilos. That's insane. I have to be careful. If only I wasn't so tired, but sitting on all the benches in the neighborhood won't help. It won't help getting Josie to sleep either and it won't help my mental health. In theory I know that. In practice, it just feels so darn hard. For the next ten minutes or so I contemplate getting up and walking along the beach rather than sitting here. Josie falls asleep better when moving. All I have to do is push myself forward, away from the back rest, put weight onto my legs and up I am. Then it's one step at a time. One step and then another. If only it wasn't so many steps home. I have to take those steps no matter what. I don't have to take the ones in the opposite direction. Maybe I should go home now. There is always tomorrow for a longer walk. Maybe Josie will fall asleep on the way home? Or I could just stay here a bit longer? Closing my eyes, just for a bit, I try to block out all disturbing sounds. The trees. I concentrate on the sound the wind makes when blowing lightly through the branches, brushing each leaf like a paintbrush over a canvas. The sound of the waves in the distant becomes more prominent as I block out the cars and people talking. The handlebar of the pram I'm holding onto jerks. Josie is kicking. I try to ignore it and try to go back to the waves, in vain. She kicks more and more. My grip around the bar gets tighter. Josie squeals. Waves. I can't hear them anymore. The trees, I focus on those, but it only lasts ten seconds and Josie is bursting out crying. She has had enough. If I take her home, the crying will just continue. Frustrated, I open my eyes. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll go," I tell her while petting her legs.
The stroller is heavy. I could swear it gets heavier by the day. At least Josie seems content. If she would just sleep.
It's getting dark. I used to love sunsets at the beach, when for a brief moment the world stops spinning fast. Watching the sinking sun encase everything in orange and purple shades used to bring calm and clarity after hectic days at work. Often I would jog down and sit on one of the rocks at the far end of the beach to watch the colour spectacle. Maybe it will help me today.
I push Josie towards the promenade. Just breathing the fresh, salty air has a rehabilitating effect. Looking at the sand I realise that I won't get the stroller through it. Hoping that the evening crowd is an honest one, I park the stroller near the showers, take Josie out, grab her blanket and my keys from the basket. The rocks are too far down, but sitting on the sand for a while may do the trick.
"Look at the waves, Josie," I quietly tell her, pressing my cheek against hers. How can such a small human being completely fill your heart with love while sucking every bit of energy out of you?
"And look at the sun over there. It's nearly touching the water." I sit down with my daughter in my arms and realise how little I've been actively talking to her today, or yesterday. I really have to make an effort.
"The sun is touching the water now," I whisper to her. Her small warm body against mine feels fulfilling. The tranquil seems to be setting over both of us.
"You and I against the world, Josie. Just you and I. We can do this. I'll try to be a better mummy. Promise." Josie falls asleep in my arms. I consider walking straight back home to get some sleep myself, but immediately push that thought aside again. Instead, I enjoy the sunset. When everything is black and only the white light of the moon and the street lamps show the way, I head back to the stroller. How lovely it would be to live in one of these houses, I think, as I recognise Cohen, Dr Leyton, whatever I should call him, on the verandah of one of the houses. Lucky him. He seems to be fully absorbed by the woman beside him, drinking wine. That's exactly what I would do. Soak in every single sunset. I'd have a hammock on my verandah where I would lie with a glass of wine or tea and a book, every evening. And in the morning I'd have my coffee on that verandah watching the sunrise. Maybe do some yoga. I should do exactly that: Taking up yoga again. Tomorrow morning I'll start. At home I'll check if I still have that meditation and yoga app on my phone.
Once I get my business running I'll start saving some more for a house down here by the beach. The mortgage for my house is nearly paid off but without income - impossible. Since Josie came along I've been living a fair bit off my savings. I'm grateful I've got them. They'll last a bit longer but if I want to keep up my lifestyle I'll have to get this going within the next six month or so. But not today.
Just the other day Tessa suggested I may consider talking to Harry after all. I could claim child support and possibly he'd help out with Josie. Sleep did sound promising but there was no way I'd risk him abandoning his daughter. I rather not have him know her, or her know him for that matter. I know Tessa meant well but I also wonder if she'd like him to take responsibility so she doesn't feel responsible for us. I don't want that and have been quite conscious lately about asking for anything, even advise. It sounds petty, and it probably is, but I can't help it. Since she suggested it, I haven't called her. Maybe I'm being unfair because she calls me, every day, and I do answer, but I'm not going to be needy.
When I get home the dishes in the sink seem overwhelming. The dishwasher is full and clean. This afternoon I started emptying it out but halfway through Josie started crying and wanted to be held. Too tired to do anything tonight, I take the plate and cup from the coffee table and add them to the pile in the sink. Tomorrow, after my yoga session, I'll tackle the kitchen.
The alarm clock on my bedside table shows 5.17am. The last time this clock was actually used for it's purpose of waking me seems like a lifetime away. Josie is crying. I last fed her at 3am and before that at 1.30am and sometime around 10pm before that. The baby book next to the alarm clock says I shouldn't feed her each time she wakes. I tried, but she goes back to sleep so much quicker when I feed her. After the 3am feed I was unable to sleep, the anticipation of her waking again keeping me up. I've been staring at the digital numbers on my bedside table too frequently. I could get up to feed her, hoping she goes back to sleep. If I do that, I may get another hour of peace and quiet. Choosing option two, I slouch over to Josie's crip and sit down on the nursing chair next to it with her. From here I've got a lovely view over the gardens of my neighbours. All is still quiet but the first rays of sunlight announce the dreaded daylight. Fourteen long hours until I'll get a new chance of sleep.
Avoiding eye contact, I learned the hard way, increases the chance of Josie falling asleep again. Her eyes are closed as she continues sucking. Automatically, my hand moves down to her bottom. With all the nighttime feeding it's no surprise the nappy is nearly overflowing. If Josie keeps her eyes closed when I put her back in the crip, the nappy has to do for another hour or two. I'm not that lucky though. The moment I stand up she opens her eyes and coos. I better change that nappy. Happily, Josie kicks her legs and gurgles. So much for sleep. So much for my morning yoga. Thoughts of that own business progressing sound like a bad joke.
The worst part, worse than the sleep deprivation, is the social isolation. I'm in need of a proper conversation. The only person possibly able to talk to me at this time of day is Izzy. The time difference has it's advantage. Taking my phone I video call her, while parading different toys in front of Josie in the bouncer. Izzy doesn't pick up. Tears of disappointment and exhaustion roll down my checks until I end up sobbing loudly. Josie doesn't seem to notice or care but I know that infants already pick up on these moods. What if I mess her up for life? I need to get my act together. The lighting up of my phone brings me back to the present. Izzy is returning my call. Thankful and relieved I wipe away the tears. Hoping that the video quality is bad enough to blur out my red eyes I press the green video button.
My sister immediately notices that something is wrong. "What happened, Lani?" my sister asks with concern in her eyes. This one single question triggers another crying episode.
"Have you joined a mother's group yet? You might make some new friends and you can help each other out?" My sister makes suggestion after suggestion. I can tell that she feels guilty for not being here with me. She shouldn't. I'm not her responsibility. I'm nobody's responsibility. But I would love to have her here.
"Maybe you should stay with mum and dad for a while." I've been thinking about this. Just for a little while, until Josie sleeps better. It is my last resort option. They would help me with Josie, I know that, but they would also push my buttons.
After hanging up with my sister I see a message from Tessa. She's taking the boys to the park in an hour. Do I want to come along? Yes, I absolutely do. She'll be busy running after the boys but we may get some short chats in in between.
Meet you there in an hour, I reply.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing Through The Night
ChickLitWatching make-up girl pass his house is one of the daily highlights of Cohen's bedridden days. She's cute, she's interesting, ...she's pregnant. When Cohen is finally himself again he meets Lani under different circumstances. She needs him, she just...
