Motherhood
If we have a purpose beyond the religious, or the spiritual, beyond culture or atheistic logic, it is surely to become parents.
Written so deeply and indelibly that our DNA itself exists only to propagate this purpose. Linking all living things that have ever been.
Yet the qualia of being a mother, and becoming part of the grand cycle of life, is so personal, so different, that when it arrived in my life (as my partner, Nicole, became pregnant), I was propelled into the immediate. Observing the fatigue, resilience, the reticence, the joy, the beauty, and the fatigue again. I have tried, gently, to document some of this process while attempting to preserve its sanctity. This is a personal project, forever incomplete, and undertaken in fits and starts under the weight of new fatherhood. I hope that it presents a small, humble glance at motherhood from inside my own home, through the eyes of someone who will never truly understand.
Thinking about what's to come, unsure.
Nicole breaks the news to her Grandmother. The women in Nicole's life, and mine, support her without reservation.
Fainting spells and dizziness lead to blood tests - Anemia is the culprit.
My mum rushes over after Nicole faints, Sphygmomanometer (blood pressure machine) in hand.
Anemia and the second trimester take their toll. A common sight. The big pillow, from Nicole's sister, was invaluable.
Moving house, odds and ends scattered as we try to pack up. Nicole does her make up on Sunday morning.
Advice from my mum, off to the left. Nicole gets bigger, as do the worries about the big day.
We say goodbye to the flat.
Happy tears, over what, I can't remember. There were many such instances, which Nicole puts down to her hormones.
Moved into the new house, with snow following soon after. I worry about being trapped in the house, should anything go wrong, or Nicole slipping down our steps. We peek out and lay low for a few days.
The baby shower comes and everything feels "real".
Reluctant walks maintain fitness, though the impact on moral is debatable. Nicole is nervous of what's to come.
Labour begins. It is long, and arduous. Nicole's sister and mother come to help. The water bottle essential.
All the packing and planning is forgotten, though comfy shoes remain a small luxury.
Hospital kick us out many times, which causes great distress as Nicole has been in labour for days.
Gas and air was very well received.
Our boy is born, via emergency C-section. When they say the time, Nicole asks, "in the morning or the night?" She has slept only for 2 hours in 4 nights.
The first skin to skin contact.
Crying, a good sign.
Nicole rests, happy, healthy. I am ejected at 5pm for Nicole to stay the night alone.
Nicole's mum meets the boy.
Compression socks and daily injections counter the risk of blood clots following the surgery.
Driving home from work, after a short 2 weeks off, thinking of Nicole alone with the baby. Scarred and wounded and tired.
The boy sleeps in St Fagans Museum. Nicole is a mother now, in that unexplainable way.
The boy is registered, and now officially "exists". He's happy to hear it.
Our first solo trip away as a family. Life is different, and Nicole is different.
Holding hands.
Matching jumpers and smiles.
Life goes on, makeup goes on.
Boy racer in the park. We've joined the club of parents, the little in group that exists, a nod of understanding at the swings, or the swimming pool, or in the cafe.
My mum, spins on the merry-go-round with her first grandchild. I reflect on our relationship, and how it was for her. I sometimes feel like I am looking at myself when I look at the baby. Not metaphorically, but as if he actually is me, from my past. A strange sensation.
Nicole has recovered from the surgery and is now in full swing of motherhood.