In my last week of relative freedom before my chemotherapy starts, (five days before I meet my Oncology team, gulp!) I thought, in my wound healing state, it would be a good idea to embark on a trip to the capital to do a spot of babysitting for my brother.
In my pre-ER positive mind frame, this was a fantastic idea. Post cancer diagnosis and freak out over fertility, I'm now not so sure.
When I get to the capital and sit on the cross city commuter train, surrounded by a returning school tour of ten to twelve year olds, the irony was not lost on me. They chatter animatedly to each other.
I silently begin to hyperventilate.
I love my nephew, he is one of many nieces and nephews. I think I will be 'using' them a lot more in the future, in my potentially childless state.
In the apartment, with my sister as co-babysitter (well, chief babysitter, I have to admit), I watch a snot nosed, round bellied two year old crash through the place, wreaking havoc in his wake. He decides to empty my handbag, item by precious item on the table top. Then he decides to repack my hand bag, item by item, in carefree abandon, squishing all manner of things in to the bursting bag.
His vigour is catching.
***
Meal time - CHAOS!
'More', said in a tone of definite expectation, is his favourite word. He has a belly apendege to match his most ulilised expression.
He takes great pleasure in shoving pear, yogurt and fistfulls of grapes into his mouth. He even decided to join my sister and I for our meal; never one to say no to a new dining experience.
Popadums, rice, jalfrezi, naan bread and some tikka masala later, his eyes round and dilated, obstinately trying to remain open, sniveling tears of frustration as we put him into his cot, encased in the cutest pyjamas I've ever seen.
Silence.
With children, this is a rare occassion. Should we uncork a fine bodied red, feast on some grown up treats which allude the beast child...like nuts or hard sweets, forever denied to poor Jack. No, instead in a crazy notion of abondonment, we get into our jammies early, watch a half hour of television and collapse into bed.
11.30 pm - crying in his sleep, wakes me up.
2.00 am - I wake with a start, thinking I heard him, no, nothing, back to sleep.
3.00 am - I sit bolt upright in my bed, his crying waking me. My sister gets to him first, rubbing his back or doing something else important, I blindly, sleepily reach for his soother which is on the bedside locker, back to sleep.
6.00am - Standing up in his cot, little fists clenching the bars of his prison, crying but his eyes are closed, so are mine in a short instant of time.
7.30 am - He is shuffling around in the cot, making strange noises but no crying - heaven - back to snooze land for me.
8.00 am - Holy Merciful......'What is that Smell?' I wail at my sister, who is prone beside me, potentially dead from toxic gases. She has a cold which is thankfully affecting her nasal passage and has not yet been affected. I wait a few moments. There is no escaping the noxious smell...... Nappy changing time.
I make the coffee and breakfast, my sister does the honour of the nappy. I suppose having only one boob has its advantages some times.
Note to all those out there, Indian food and grapes do not make a happy nappy combination.
It's time for more food, I pick him up, gingerly balancing him on my good, unstitched side and think for a minute, this might never be me. I might never have babies of my own and I look at him and feel guilty.
Guilty because I don't feel a massive hole in my life, I don't feel unquenchable loss.
I panic and plop him into his highchair, bustling about the kitchen to get his breakfast.
I'm a terrible person. A terrible female person!
***
It takes more organising and team work to get him into his pram and out the door than it does to launch a small business.
I push the pram, badly down the corridor, colliding with the wall and corners on several occasions. We carreer out the door and into the street on our way to the creche; a baby, two aunts, three breasts and one expander.
I feel empathy for new mothers, embarking on new experience, after new experience.
It may not be an experience I will ever have, as after this whole ordeal, I may need timeshare on my nieces and nephews, to feel that special feeling of love you get when you are with children.
For now, I must content myself with my own new experiences and try to get through them. What I learned today, is to concentrate on today and not think too much about tomorrow, you cannot plan and invariably, plans change.
Also, there is no power steering on buggies.....
