From Here to Maternity (12 page)

I ran downstairs, grabbed Yuri, said goodbye to Pam and rushed out of the door. By the time I got to the car I was shaking with rage. I held Yuri close to me, kissed his pale little face and told him over and over again how much I loved him. He held his hand up to my cheek and gazed at me with his big brown eyes, melting my heart for the millionth time.

Chapter 13

The night before I was due back in work, Yuri woke up every hour on the hour. It was as if he sensed that he was going to be abandoned the next day and was determined to make me suffer. At four a.m., when I had soothed him for half an hour – rubbing his back and singing to him – he finally fell asleep again. I collapsed into bed and went into a coma.

‘Waaaaaaah,’ I heard in my dream. ‘Waaaaaah.’ I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. Exactly five a.m. We had moved him into his own room a few days earlier and until now it had been working quite well – he woke up once or twice but had gone back go sleep almost straight away. James was sound asleep beside me, oblivious to his son’s crying through the baby monitor, which was conveniently placed on my bedside table.

I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into Yuri’s room. He was standing up in his cot, gripping the bars and crying. At this stage I was really fed up, sleep-deprived and angry. ‘Will you hush?’ I begged Yuri. ‘We’ve done this already four times. I’ve got work tomorrow. Give me a break. I’m going to get fired if I arrive in with no sleep and do a bad job. Come on, stop acting up.’

He stared at me and wailed.

I snapped. ‘Shut up or I’ll send you back to Russia,’ I hissed.

‘Emma!’ said James, choosing this exact moment to finally wake up and check on his son. ‘How could you say something like that to him? Come to Daddy, Yuri, Mummy didn’t mean that,’ he said, leaning down to pick him up. ‘Really, Emma, you should know better.’

‘No!
Don’t pick him up,’ I said, yanking James back from the cot.

‘Have you gone mad?’ James glared at me.

I felt guilty about snapping at Yuri, but I was not happy with James rolling up at five a.m., after six hours of uninterrupted sleep, to tell me how to behave. Besides, it was vital – according to all the books I’d read – not to pick up a crying baby when you were trying to get them used to sleeping alone. Obviously if they were in distress you did, but not if they were just kind of whinge-crying and looking for attention, which was exactly what Yuri was doing. If we gave in now, he’d never settle into his new room.

‘We can’t pick him up. If we do he’ll never get used to sleeping on his own and he’ll associate crying with us rushing in to comfort him. He has to learn that crying doesn’t always work. He’ll be fine in a few minutes. He’ll settle himself back to sleep. The book says to stay with him so he knows you’re there, but not pick him up.’

‘Which Fascist book told you that gem?’

‘I don’t know, I can’t remember, I’ve read so many of them. But they all pretty much said not to give in to your baby’s every whim or you’ll become a slave to them.’

‘Rubbish. If a child cries, it needs to be reassured. It’s common sense,’ said James and bent down to pick Yuri up.

‘James,’ I said, in a Clint Eastwood
Dirty Harry
type voice, ‘if you pick him up I will kill you. I’ve spent four nights trying to get him used to this room, and if you break the routine now, he’ll never stay here.’

James ignored me and picked up Yuri, who immediately stopped crying. ‘It would appear that those books, in which you place so much faith, are wrong.’

I was so angry that I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but frustration got the better of me and I cried. ‘I’ve been up with him all bloody night. While you’ve been snoring merrily I’ve been soothing him back to sleep. I’m bloody exhausted. You’re not the only one who has work in the morning. Don’t come in here and tell me how to behave.’

‘He’s a baby. They wake up sometimes. Big deal.’

‘Sometimes – fine. Five times in one night, not fine at all. In fact, total bloody nightmare.’

‘Will you please stop ranting and cursing in front of him? You’re only making him more agitated. He’s probably hungry or needs his nappy changed,’ said Superdad.

‘No, he doesn’t, James. He’s just acting up. I spend twenty-four hours a day with him, in case you’ve forgotten. I know his every mood and need. He’s not hungry or wet, he’s just overtired because he keeps waking himself up. All he needs is sleep, just like his mother.’

‘Fine. Go back to bed. Leave this to me.’

I stomped back to bed, but I was too angry to sleep. I spent the next half an hour tossing and turning while I listened to James trying in vain to put Yuri back in his cot. Now that he had been picked up, he had no intention of going back to bed on his own. He roared every time James attempted to lower him in. I have to confess, I was delighted that he was being so bold. At least now James would know how difficult it was.

Eventually after another half an hour of trying unsuccessfully to get Yuri back into his cot, James came into our room, looking demented, carrying Yuri in his arms. I pretended to be asleep.

‘Emma,’ he whispered, then a little louder: ‘Emma.’ Finally he practically shouted it.

‘What?

‘Are you awake?’

‘Considering the fact that you’ve just shouted in my ear, depriving me of the only sleep I’ve had all night, yes, it would seem that I am awake.’

‘Well, he won’t lie down for me so I wondered if you had any tips.’

‘I do have one. You may recall it – don’t bloody well pick him up.’

‘OK, I admit it might not have been the best idea.’

‘Oh, no, James, you were right. Me and my crazy books written by women with decades of child-minding experience are wrong. You and your instinctive parenting are right.’

‘Come on, Emma. It’s been an hour – help me out here.’

‘Do you promise to listen to me in future?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you swear that you will not second-guess me, ignore my rules or ruin my routines ever again?’

He nodded.

‘Will you appreciate what I do for our son more, now that you’ve had a tiny taste of what it’s like?’

‘Darling,’ said James, ‘I will worship you, hang on your every word and even read your books if you will just get him to stop crying. I’ve got a splitting headache.’

‘Oh, poor you, how awful. I’ve had one of those since we came back from Russia.’

‘I admire you, adore you, am in awe of you – I’ll do anything, but please stop the noise,’ he begged.

I decided to take pity on him – and on poor Yuri, who was worn out. ‘Follow me, watch and learn,’ I said, taking Yuri from him. We went back to the nursery where I laid Yuri in his cot. I held his hand, and stroked his cheek, singing to him, until he stopped crying and fell into an exhausted slumber twenty minutes later. When I turned round triumphantly, my not-so-attentive student was fast asleep in the rocking-chair.

We all slept through the alarm. I woke up with a start at half nine and shook James, who bolted out of the door. He had arranged to meet the squad for a training sessions at ten and it would not look good if he was late. While a tired Yuri slept on, I ran around preparing food and packing his knapsack for his first day away from home. I put in enough nappies and food for an army and as many of his favourite toys as I could fit in.

When I woke Yuri he was clinging, as always, to his little grey elephant. I had hoped he’d grow out of it, with all the lovely new toys we had bought, but he loved that elephant more than anything. Just seeing it reminded me that he had been someone else’s baby once, which I hated thinking about. But it had been his comforter from the day he was abandoned so I just had to accept that he needed it at all times. I dressed him and put the elephant in the front pocket of the bag where he could see it.

When we arrived, Mum was waiting for us. She told me how awful I looked. ‘Well, I didn’t get much sleep. Someone was up all night acting the maggot.’

‘Still, you should smarten yourself up. You can’t go to work looking like a wreck.’

‘I’m going to do my makeup in the car. I haven’t had a second to myself this morning, Mum, so please don’t start.’

‘I just don’t want you to let yourself go.’

I couldn’t have an argument with her now – she was doing me a favour and I knew she’d do a great job of minding Yuri. If he was with Mum I wouldn’t worry about him. I counted to ten. ‘I know I look a mess. I’m going to go and do myself up now. I’ll see you later.’

As I drove to work, I went to point out a dog to Yuri. But his seat was empty and I was suddenly overcome with sadness. I missed him. This was ridiculous: I’d be seeing him again in three hours, but I was lonely without him. As a lump formed in my throat, I told myself to get a grip.

By the time I arrived at the studio I had gathered myself together. Amanda would not be happy to have a weepy mother on her hands.

Much to my surprise, when I walked in Amanda hugged me. She was not the touchy-feely type. She looked me up and down and nodded. ‘Just as I expected,’ she said, and sighed dramatically. ‘You look tired but happy in that I-love-my-child-so-much-I-don’t-care-about-sleep-any-more way. You’ve moved over to the dark side.’

‘I care about the lack of sleep, believe me. But it is amazing.’

‘Oh, God, tell me you’re not going to bore me with tales of feeding and bowel movements.’

‘I promise not to.’

‘Is it going all right?’ she asked.

‘It’s hard work, but it’s worth it. He’s just wonderful. Thanks for asking – and now you’ve done your bit so you’re off the hook.’ I decided not to tell her I was pregnant. I’d wait until I was showing. I didn’t want to push her over the edge and, besides, she’d have to worry about replacing me again. It was only my first day back in work, and she didn’t need to hear that particular gem of information just yet.

Amanda smiled. ‘Thank God for that. Please make me look stunning. That silly girl they got in to replace you was obsessed with blusher, even though I told her how much I loathe it.’

‘How’ve you been? How’s the love life?’

‘Not too bad. You heard John Bradley left his wife?’

I was ashamed to say I hadn’t read a newspaper in weeks. This was big news. Four years ago, John Bradley – former leader of the opposition – and Amanda had had an affair, and when the news broke, Bradley was forced to resign. His wife had stood by him and he had bounced back well. Three years after the affair, his party had won the election and he was currently the minister for health.

‘No! Has he been calling?’

‘Well, I bumped into him at a Christmas fundraiser but the place was crawling with press so he steered clear of me. However, he did call the next day to tell me how well I was looking,’ she said, twinkling. ‘But I’ve actually met someone else. David Mason-Holmes.’

‘The Zillionaire property magnate?’

‘The very same,’ she said, laughing wickedly. ‘He’s been whisking me about in his helicopter. We flew to London to have lunch in the Ivy last Saturday, just for the hell of it. It’s all very flash, but great fun.’

I groaned. ‘Oh, the glamour.’

‘You see?’ said Amanda, waving her finger at me, ‘This is what happens when you don’t get married or have children cluttering up your life. And before you tell me how much I’ve missed by not knowing the joy and beauty of motherhood and how empty and shallow my life is, stop. My friends have been telling me for years.’

‘I was actually going to ask you to whisk me off with you on the chopper for a few days so I can feel normal again.’ I laughed.

After I had finished her makeup, a happy Amanda was about to walk on to the set when she turned and handed me a bag. Inside were two beautifully wrapped gifts. ‘Just a token,’ she muttered, and went to tape her show.

I sat down and opened the first one. Inside an elaborate gift box I found a voucher for a full-day treatment at Butterfly, the top spa in Dublin. The second, a blue Tiffany box, contained a gorgeous silver baby rattle. The card read: ‘I saw this in an episode of
Sex and the City.
It seems to be the present to give babies, these days. Congratulations on reaching the end of your long journey to motherhood. I’m very proud of you. Just don’t bore me about him! Amanda.’

Chapter 14

Having won the European Cup last year, James had been hailed as the best coach Leinster had ever had, a tactical genius and generally a top manager. Several of the big rugby clubs in France and England had tried to poach him with lucrative offers, but James had remained loyal to Leinster. He loved his job and was happy to stay with the team he had so successfully cultivated and nurtured to victory. The only downside to his European win was the pressure he felt now to defend the trophy. He was determined to keep the Cup this year and consolidate his position as the top coach in Europe.

The squad was all keyed up too. They had enjoyed their taste of victory, not to mention the media attention and pay rises that had followed, and were eager to produce some great rugby again this year. Donal, as captain, was head honcho and loved every minute of it. He was also aware that, at thirty-four, his rugby career was coming to an end. This would probably be his last year at the top of his game and he was keen to make it a memorable one.

The first Cup qualifying game was against Glasgow at Leinster’s home ground that Saturday. James was like a cat on a hot tin roof the night before.

‘But I thought Glasgow weren’t supposed to be any good,’ I said, as he paced up and down the kitchen.

‘Who told you that?’ James asked, surprised that I had an opinion. Rugby was not my forte, although I did try to feign interest, and I was desperately proud of James, and had gone to all the big games last year.

‘I read it in the paper today. Tom Brown in the
Irish Times
said that Glasgow were not up to much because their star player is injured.’ I was delighted to prove that I knew what was going on. Although, truth be told, I had heard it from Dad, who had been at home when I went to pick Yuri up and had read it out to me.

James looked impressed. ‘Well, he has a point but Collins being out of the game doesn’t mean it’s a sure win. They still have a very strong side and their pack is two stone heavier than ours. I’m a bit worried that Kinsella will have trouble scrumming against their prop –’