My umbilical wire now stretches a kilometre.
I do know as a result of final week, for the primary time in over a yr, I went out with out my child. For the 5 months earlier to that he had spent each night time both on or by my physique – in my arms, at a breast, on a bouncing hip or beside my mattress. For the 9 months earlier than that he was making like Captain Webb throughout his everlasting residence within the waters of my uterus, identified solely by a squeezed bladder and the occasional bump within the night time. We hadn’t been aside, after darkish, all yr.
So it was with one thing akin to euphoric terror that I stepped out of my entrance door final Wednesday night time and, to coin an previous phrase, went out. Out out. All the best way to the highest of my highway, out.
I want to say that I went someplace wild, extravagant, filled with lithe our bodies and chilly drinks and loud music. I would love to have the ability to let you know that I went out someplace noble; to go to a lonely cherished one, to make a bit additional money or to work a shift at a meals financial institution as different pals have. I want to declare that I took to my previous crimson racing bike and rode my pregnancy-strengthened thighs throughout a tarmac maze of acquainted metropolis streets. However the reality is, I went to the pub. The closest geographical pub to my home, to satisfy a buddy I’ve identified since I used to be eight years previous and we might stroll to highschool collectively; her in a much-envied tartan puffer jacket and me in some second-hand duffle ensemble that made me seem like a bag of wheat.
Fortunately, she has a child too – albeit an excellent one who can already eat and discuss and stroll – so was very understanding as I sat in my chair and evenly vibrated. With pleasure, concern, pleasure, surprise, shell-shock; a cocktail of adrenaline so potent that any drink can be rendered absolute proof. It was, frankly, weird to be sitting there, on a black-and-white tiled ground, with no bag, no nappies, no sling, no rattles or snacks, no tissues or toys, no wipes or water, no bibs and no child. “All these folks,” I stored pondering, goggle-eyed and gazing on the drinkers round me, “All these folks don’t know that I’m a mum”.
And so, pricey readers, I managed it: I managed two hours, one drink, one packet of prepared salted crisps and 9 separate textual content messages from my associate reassuring me the newborn was nonetheless quick asleep. I managed to take a seat in a chair and discuss to a different grownup individual for 2 hours with out at any level mopping up shit or getting my tits out. Thoughts you, it was the primary time I’d tasted alcohol in over a yr and on the best way house I needed to cease on the Co-op to panic-eat a raisin scone for concern that I used to be too drunk to mom.
However hey, I did it. And simply yesterday my hairdresser invited me to a women-only techno night time. It begins at 11pm and goes on till daybreak… Apparently plenty of ladies come on their very own… There might be dancing… I might simply drink water… Are you able to think about?
No, me neither.