A Storm Is Brewing

Law Awards Part. 2

Finding the right words to convey the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me over the past few months had proven to be an impossible task. The painstaking hours I found myself spending to try and construct any explanation for my weird behaviour seemed to carry a weight of bitterness, hatred, and a lack of feeling grateful.

If I'm being honest, those three words were something I had been grappling with for some time. Teddy was perfect, and his fight to secure this life had made me the proudest I had ever been, but everything had changed. My physical body had undergone a transformation that I found disgusting, not because of how it looked but because of why it looked that way. Every millimetre of scar reminded me of the mistakes I had made. Failure to carry a child full-term, failure to keep him safe, failure to recognise that something wasn't right that day, and a failure to deal more swiftly with the situation when I finally realised I was most likely giving birth.

The hardest part, though, were the changes that had happened within me. Through every difficult situation in my life, I had always possessed a mindset of optimism, forever seeing the glass as half full. I'd remind my clients that no matter how bad a situation seemed, there were others who had it far worse. Perhaps the scariest change I faced was my inability to do that, especially when Teddy's story could've been so terribly different.

Lately, a bittersweet emotion had crept into my heart, casting a dark shadow over the love I held for the little boy that Leah and I had brought into this world. It wasn't just a simple resentment, like the ones we see in movies. This situation was far more intricate and tangled, making it all the more challenging for me to come to terms with. Expecting Leah to understand the reasoning behind it all? That seemed impossible.

Leah had been everyone's biggest worry in terms of resentment. The standard worry that the mother who doesn't carry would struggle to create a bond was at the forefront of everyone's minds as the pregnancy progressed, with Amanda confiding in me about those fears. I had promised that if that happened, I would know how to deal with it. I had watched every YouTube video, listened to every podcast, and even read every book on the bonding techniques that non-birthgivers can use to create that love. I had spent so much time preparing for Leah to feel resentment that I hadn't realised I might feel it instead.

There's this saying that goes around that is used by parents to claim that when you become a parent, you give the best parts of yourself to the little bundle of joy in your arms. It was always one of those phrases that I rolled my eyes at when adults said it, but being a parent myself made me realise that it's so much more than an old wives tale.

It isn't about the hair, the eye colour, or the ability to tan in future years; it's about the things parents give up in order to protect, provide for, and love their children. Gone are the days of a flawless, stretch-mark-free body; you kiss goodbye to the perfection of a predictable sleep routine; and you can forget being able to eat your favourite meal whenever you feel like it for at least the first few years.

"Soph? Where did you go?"

Leah's voice managed to break me from my trance, the thoughts in my head threatening to spill from my mouth before I had even had a chance to word them in a kinder, more mature way.

"It's going to sound awful."

Her hand made its way to my hair, my eyes closing at the feeling of her understanding that I was sure wouldn't last too long.

"Only if I jump to conclusions, which I won't."
"You promise?"
"I promise."

Despite every bone in my body telling me this was a terrible idea, I let the unfiltered words leave my mouth anyway. The truth is, I didn't even care.

"I think I resent him."
"Who?"
"Teddy."

As hard as she tried, Leah's eyes widened on their own, a shaky breath leaving her body as she came to the realisation that this could be devastating for the family we had built. Still, her hand continued to run through my hair as if I hadn't attacked the most important person in her life.

"What for, Soph?"
"This. Me. The things I'm not anymore. My freedom. You know what? I hate it. I hate being a mum. I hate having to organise him in the mornings when I want to organise paperwork in an office. I hate having to taste-test his food. I hate having to get changed three times a day because he slabbers across my tops every single time. I hate that I bump into people I haven't seen in a while and I get hit with how's the little man? What about me? What about how I am?"
"Okay." Leah nodded.

She doesn't have a clue what to say; of course she doesn't. How could she? The very baby that nearly didn't make it, and I care more about people asking how I am.

"What would you say?" She whispered.
"Huh?"
"What would you say? If they asked you, how're you, Sophie? What would you say to them?"

That question caused yet another spiral of decline in my brain. What would I say? The socially acceptable answer would be that I was lucky, thankful, and blessed. Those hospital walls were lined with so much tragedy, and my story hadn't been one of them.

"Fine."
"Exactly, Soph. You'd say you're fine."
"What?"
"You keep saying you're fine, but you aren't. Maybe if the people who matter know that you aren't fine, then they know that you need to be shown a little concern too. When the people around me knew that I was living through anxiety that he would get sick again, they constantly told me how well he looked, how quickly he was putting weight on, or how much he looked at me with love. If people knew that you were feeling like you resented him, which you don't, they'd be able to work around that."
"I've just told you that I am resenting him, Leah!"
"That's not what I heard, though."
"What did you hear? Because that's what I said." I snapped.
"I heard someone who misses their old life mistaking that for resentment. Resentment doesn't look like this, Soph."
"What does it look like, then?"
"I don't know. But it doesn't look like singing him his favourite song when he's crying or making baby noises at him just to see his laugh when I can tell you're exhausted. It doesn't look like getting up seven times a night to check his temperature because he was a bit hot when you put him down. And it definitely doesn't look like the way you look at him."

I didn't want her to be right, but she was. Perhaps that's why it had been so difficult for me to put things into words, because every word I wanted to say was centred around resentment, which wasn't at all what I was experiencing.

"You know, Soph, all those things you said you hate—the food tasting, the changing of your top, and getting him organised—they're all the things that you smile the brightest and laugh the loudest when you're doing. Maybe you don't see that, but I do."
"I'm so tired, Leah. I'm so exhausted from it all. I'm tired of people telling me that I'll feel like myself again soon, and it never happens."
"But we won't. Neither of us will. You're never going to feel like Sophie the solicitor again, and I'm never going to feel like Leah the footballer again. That's what love is, isn't it? When we got married, we both felt like wives. Now, we feel like the mum. You know, you never said you would change it."
"No, I didn't." I whispered.
"No, you didn't."

A slight chuckle left her as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer to her chest. She was right, and she knew it. She wouldn't gloat, though. Not tonight.

"I love you, Soph."
"I love you."
"I don't understand how this makes you a hypocrite, though?"
"I feel ugly. That's what makes me a hypocrite."
"Sorry?"
"Remember when I made such a big thing about you not being allowed to let your surgery scars hold you back? Well, here I am, feeling held back by my fucking surgery scars."
"That's why you don't want to go to the awards." Leah whispered, finally placing the pieces together.
"Yeah."
"That's why you chose that outfit."
"I knew you hated it!" I chuckled.
"I don't hate it. I hate that you feel you have to choose what you wear based on your body."
"Isn't that the whole idea of fashion?" I chuckled again.
"Well, yeah."
"See."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah."
"Twenty years time, this is Liv having this conversation with you, what do you say?"
"Don't do that."
"No, answer me. What would you say to her?"
"That she's beautiful."
"I carry the next baby, what do you say to me?"
"That you're beautiful."
"Soph, you're beautiful. I'm going to find a way to make you see that and you will wear what you want to those awards."