door half open

The first 24 hours after making my second human

Back in 2019 Julz had a weak moment for exactly 10 seconds which resulted in Inigo Montoya the cat joining our little family. The weak moment happened while waiting for a LHR → PHL flight when he was left completely unsupervised and bought an iPad. I told him about a week before this: “do not buy the new iPad, it’s very expensive. If we can afford a new iPad, then we can afford to adopt a cat”, a great example of my flawless don’t-fail-by-halves logic. But he got to say: “seems like we’re getting a cat” instead of “I bought an iPad” which is just better.

The day after he came back from his trip I took him to the shelter where we met Ini. Before we were able to bring him home, a lady came from the shelter to assess how cat proof our house is. They don’t even do that with babies. Babies, they just let you take home. Cats, they check your house first. When you have an indoor only cat, you can’t have windows and doors open too wide. She had a tape measure and everything. She said, “if he goes out that window, you will never see him again.” I thought about that all the time.

***

I made another human, what a strange thing to be taking credit for.

At no point did I feel like I was the one driving that train but here we are, and here she is, and I guess of anyone else in the world I’m the one who made her the most. You get a few months to mentally prepare but it’s still kind of unexpected. Every day past the due date I thought “great, another day to live as a fucking whale” and still, feeling those first early contractions, I thought: wait what??!

They do warn you that giving birth is really not very fun, and my first time was pretty terrible, but I really did kind of think it was going to be fun this time. I was wrong.

***

Bless me, father, for it has now been three weeks and one day since I have unleashed another human onto this here Earth and three weeks exactly since my beautiful cat baby left us. I would love to write about the traumatic scam that my labour and delivery experience was, but it’s now forever tied to the trauma of the first death in our little family. Talk about unexpected. So what do I write about?

***

I’ve been considering this for the last three weeks and even sitting here now, I’m still not sure how much I’d like to commit to fake paper.

Should I be writing about how absolutely disgusting my labour was? Talk my future self off the ledge of “maybe… another one?” (DO NOT DO IT)

When we just got to the hospital, Julz said: “There’s nobody else I’d rather watch go through many hours of pain… and have a baby with”. It was very funny then but not an hour later.

Should I be writing about what a shock and relief it is to have your baby in your arms? She was there, crying, all slimy and gross and brand new, and they said: talk to her! And I said: “Hi! Welcome!” Listen, not everyone’s a poet.

I would actually like to write two things about Mila’s arrival.

Firstly, it was definitely a relief, and a joy. Not like when I was doing this for the first time when what I felt wasn’t relief or joy, it was love and a creeping sense of dread. What, I’m responsible for her now? The second time around what I thought was: “well, what’s coming definitely cannot be worse than what just ended, so.”

Secondly, just before the baby made her appearance I finally took a break from being utterly miserable and said, fuck!, and the midwife said: “don’t swear! Your baby is coming!” I just thought it was very funny.

***

Should I be writing about how great it felt, knowing that Zoe had a great time with my mum while we were away, only to get a call from the nursery before we even stepped into the apartment, saying she’s having an epic day long meltdown and they can’t calm her down, so could I come pick her up. My heart just dropped.

Less than 24 hours after pushing a 9.5 lbs baby out I ran almost a full mile to get her from the nursery because she wouldn’t stop screaming for mommy. I could run a marathon at that point, probably. Its awful, imagining your child in distress. It was the first time we’ve ever been apart for so long. Cut my heart out and feed it to the animals. Don’t care which animals.

I got there and picked her up, the poor room leader came to talk to me, looked at me, and said: “oh, we thought you already had your baby!” And I said: “I did!” I never felt so bad for anyone. Everyone’s nightmare, calling someone who’s not pregnant, pregnant. It was a beautiful, perfect fuckup, and, honestly, really cheered me up.

***

I want to write about how happy and relieved we were when we finally were all home. My mom was there. The babies were there. Meeting for the first time. Zoe was instantly obsessed. Julz was there, also obsessed with the whole thing.

And Ini was there. Doing his cat thing. I said to my mum: “look at Ini. Look how beautiful and regal he looks sitting on that shelf.” Until about 2 hours later when he just… wasn’t.

And could I even begin to write about grabbing my favourite in the world little creature and running out of the house, holding him so so tight as he faded away? I must have looked insane. I didn’t stop to put on my shoes, I just thought, we have to go. I asked some dog walkers if they knew where I could get him some emergency help while my mom was getting the car.

And the dog walkers, they asked, what happened? And all I could say was I don’t know. I don’t know.

And Julz was at home with an emotionally fragile toddler and even more fragile newborn he wasn’t even able to feed due to lack of boobs that I was forced to bring with me. Still not even 20 hours since giving birth, running out in panic for the second time. Holding my cat baby, already knowing the answer. I could really live without that car ride, too. I wish I could erase the car ride. It was too long. And I just stroked his head and told him he was so loved but I knew he wasn’t there.

What’s with the never ending fucking roadworks in this fucking country?

(Not even sure if this will sound more or less like a fever dream if I mention that getting into my mum’s car I couldn’t open the door because I needed both arms to hold Ini… and for some reason Ellie Simmonds was walking by and opened the door for me. She was just there at that exact moment I realised I would need help opening the door. I wish I could send her a thank you note or something.)

***

Why do people pay for therapy when this is free?

Finally, a thunderstorm.

***

And then we came home. Minus Ini.

For some reason they made me register him at the vet hospital, even though by the time we arrived it was too late. About a week later I took to email and had a small shout at them about sending me mail about how excited they were to take care of my cat.

“There is no more cat”, I told them. “Please stop making me cry.”

***

The next day life had to go on. We made it through the first night home with a newborn. Who, by the way, is no bother at all. She was so content I was even worried a little. “Why are you not crying? Do you not have any complaints at all?” She does have more complaints now, but that’s okay, she got that from me.

The next day I took Zoe to nursery and one of my favourite teachers there said: “wow you just came home yesterday and you’re taking her to nursery yourself today? You’re a very strong woman.” And I said, trying not to cry: “you have no idea.” And what I thought was, I’m a puddle, a wet puddle, not a strong woman, and I miss my cat so much.

That morning, before leaving for nursery my mom took care of Zoe and got her ready. They went onto the balcony to water the plants and left the door wide open.

I shut it, leaving it about 2.5 inches open. I said: “I don’t think Julz is ready to see the door wide open.” And I thought: “I’m not ready to see the door wide open.”

It was a very bad 24 hours to be reminded of the fragility of life. I think I can say now, it didn’t get me. The anxiety, the dread. It’s not here this time. I now feel warmth and gratitude at what we had, rather than just sadness. Of course, there is also a lot of sadness. Now we are settling into a new routine with our multiple (one, TWO!) children. It’s truly a wild ride. It’s great, it’s awful. Zoe bit her lip today and cried so hard I shit you not I nearly took her to A&E.

We spent a lot of time on the balcony during this last heatwave. Zoe has a water play table there. It has little animals in it, she loves turtles the most. I go out to play with her and still habitually start to shut the door behind me. “If he gets out of that window, you will never see him again”. I still hear it. Still look behind me, sometimes. Then I remember and stop myself.

I look at my babies and leave the door half open.