Worlds collide

Petals by Lady E

Petals by Lady E

A baby I don’t know is sitting in my daughter’s buggy. A red-haired little boy, who dribbles on the straps, looking content. His mother smiles, hands me a few notes, and walks away.

A little piece of my heart tears.

There is something really odd about standing in the sunshine on a perfect Saturday morning, selling chunks of your children’s babyhood for a few euros.

I look at the new mums milling around with newborns strapped to their chests, at the collection of baby-bumps cooing over minuscule onesies and ridiculously cute pyjamas. I remember being one of them, walking around NCT sales, oblivious of the middle-aged mothers selling their wares, absorbed in my own present of moses baskets and muslins.

Today, I have a son in middle school and permanent bags under the eyes. There will be no baby number 3.

As the sale closes, I stay behind with a friend who is expecting her first, and shows me her loot. As she beams and talks animatedly, I lose myself in the rush of pregnancy and newborn memories. The hopes, the worries, the excitment.

A man is walking towards us. I automatically look the other way and carry on smiling, but my pounding heart muffles all other sounds, as recent, painful memories in France collide with the bittersweet flow of UK pregnancies.

A year ago, Mr Nice and I walked down the same road, hacking out the menu for our evening barbecue with friends…

He walks past us, a stranger.

My friend doesn’t even notice.

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8 thoughts on “Worlds collide

  1. Thank you for your kind words Judith ! I am finding my way. Sometimes, it’s hard to fathom where to go, and sometimes, the climb seems unbearably steep, but slow and steady, I get back on track. And feel happy. 🙂

  2. Bjr, ça n’a pas l’air d’être la forme… Courage.

    Je me disais justement que je devrais vendre mon siège enfant pour vélo, et le porte bébé pour la rando…

    Pas de 3 ème bébé pour nous non plus…

    Et tes poches sous les yeux ne sont pas visibles du tout!!

    En tout cas, moi d’ici je ne les vois pas…

    Je pense a toi souvent, j’espère que les choses s’améliorent pour Mr Xmas et toi.

    Une dépression, c’est comme un bras cassé, ça peut arriver plusieurs fois.

    J’espère qu’il se soigne comme il faut.

    Gros bisou!

    • Hello Aude !
      Euh oui, tu verras, c’est un peu bizarre de vendre tes trucs de bébé à des inconnus. Mais bon, j’ai pu faire les courses de la semaine avec mon énoooorme profit 😉 …
      Mr Xmas se soigne un peu, et surtout, il va mieux, il va mieux (thank f**ck for that), ouf, on souffle tous. Mais oui, clairement, chez lui c’est un peu un bras cassé récurrent, donc il faut trouver gérer ce genre de situations en limitant la casse côté famille. C’est pas évident…
      A priori, on est toujours sur première semaine d’août dans les landes, vous serez dans les parages ?
      Gros bisous xxx

    • Haaaaw, Peter, don’t they grow up way too fast ! I finally understand why when I was moaning about broken nights and nappies, all the parents of older kids would tell me to cherish those early years.
      Golly, it must mean I’m getting old… x

  3. Thank you DWM. I don’t comment much these days, but chuffed to see you so happy and hopeful. You have come a long way, well done ! 🙂 x

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