I've Never Been to me

Many thanks to vivacious for the great header.

I’ve Never Been to me

By

Charlene – 1982.

In England, January of 1982 saw the continuation of a very harsh winter, with the lowest ever temperature of minus 27 degrees Fahrenheit recorded on the tenth of the month. It was extremely difficult to get out and about, particularly with a three-month-old baby; in fact advice was being given out to take extra care with newborns during this period as the conditions were likely to result in more than the average cot deaths, particularly for babies delivered by Caesarean section. As you can imagine, when our wakeful baby did sleep, it was difficult to relax and I guess we checked on him more times than we’d have wanted to.

But slowly the conditions improved and the ice thawed. My leave from my teaching job was now approaching five months and it was time to contemplate a return to work. But here was another unanticipated problem. In theory, looking after a baby combined with a teaching career sounded manageable; in practice it was a totally different matter. I was still getting up in the night, finding caring for home and baby very tiring and left wondering if I’d cope with a full time job and a family.

David and my Mum were very supportive, allowing me to make my own decision. As the days passed by, the pressure and doubts increased, but believing I’d not survive, financially or emotionally without my job I sought out a childminder, recommended by a friend. I took Paul along to meet her; she was lovely and I knew she would take good care of him while I was at school. But still the doubts niggled. I knew I was a bit of ‘a discontented mother and a regimented wife’ to quote the song, so why wasn’t I feeling enthusiastic about going back to my previous role?

The answer came to me during a conversation with the friend who had recommended the childminder. She reassured me her son loved going there and adored the minder. The only downside she told me was opening the car door and watching your child dashing out into the childminder’s arms without a backward glance. I think my decision was made in that moment. I loved my job, but I loved my son more and didn’t want to miss the milestones in his childhood or rival for his affection with someone else.

I resigned from my job and became a full time mother, one decision in my life I have never regretted. Finances were tight and there’d be many long days feeling lonely and frustrated, but it felt right to be devoting my time to my son and home with no major distractions. I was delighted to witness all the stages of babyhood a mother treasures and enjoyed taking Paul out in the company of a couple of other new Mums I’d met. The position of our home still made things difficult and as it was originally the house where David had lived with his first wife, I began to feel we’d be better off moving. David was reluctant, but we tentatively started looking for a property nearer the town.
We attended the christenings of some of our friend’s babies but our own local church would not agree to christen Paul. We were not regular church goers and it seemed we would have to agree to attend church every Sunday without fail and were not prepared for this commitment. Wanting to give thanks for the safe delivery and good health of our baby was not enough apparently. However, my sister did have her two children christened that April and the family enjoyed a lovely day in Staffordshire.

A family gathering for the christening of my sister’s children, Rachel and Nigel.

Shortly afterwards David was admitted to hospital for an operation to remove polyps from his throat and I was left alone to cope with Paul, Louise and the two dogs, one of them now rapidly ailing. I remember this was the time Paul spoke his first word ‘teddy’ and also being paid a visit by a policeman after I’d let the dogs out into the garden, not realising the postman was approaching the front door, forcing him to make a hasty retreat from two hounds baring their teeth at the invader of their territory. I think the policeman saw the funny side thankfully.

In the summer we took our little family to Mablethorpe, a popular seaside resort on the East coast. With little money to spare it was a cheap, self catering holiday in shabby accommodation, but a break at least and a first holiday for Paul, now almost a year old. As we climbed the steps leading to the beach and the sands and sea came into view, Paul pointed at the water and announced ‘bath.’ It still raises a smile all these years later.

Our first holiday with Paul at not so exotic Mablethorpe.

Later in the year, our eldest dog Emma died in her sleep and was laid to rest in our garden. It enabled us to take the younger dog Carla out more often and she would also accompany us on future holidays.

I returned to team bowling on Monday nights, travelling by bus the fifteen mile journey into Nottingham and back. One dark night as I meandered down the steep hill to our home, I spotted something moving on the pavement. On inspection, I discovered a small, green budgerigar, cold and obviously exhausted, so I picked it up and took it home. I’d never liked seeing birds caged, but had no choice but to offer the poor little thing a place in our family. And so we became a two pet home once more.

By Christmas, Paul was fifteen months old and although chattering away was making no effort to walk. I joined a local Mother and Toddler group in an effort to spur him on, but he seemed quite content to just sit or crawl amongst the toys and other children. He was a very sweet-natured, comical child however and much loved by family and friends.

Life was pretty ordinary and bland to be honest, but I believe leaving teaching and living in the real world was enabling me to understand more about myself, my life and the world around me, though some lessons would prove to be harsh ones. I'd never been to paradise but was slowly getting closer to being me.