A Baby’s Cry. Cathy Glass
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far. I’ve fed and changed him and he didn’t complain. Soon I’ll take him in the car to meet Adrian and Paula from school. Come and visit as soon as you like.’
‘We will,’ Mum said excitedly. ‘I’ll speak to your father as soon as he arrives home from work and we’ll arrange to come over. How long do you think you’ll have him for?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m seeing Jill tomorrow, so I should know more then.’
‘You’ll get very attached to him,’ Mum warned. ‘I know you do with all the children you look after, but a baby … Well, how will you ever be able to give him up?’
‘I’ll worry about that when the time comes,’ I said, lightly dismissive. ‘He’s only just arrived.’ Yet as I finished talking to Mum and we said goodbye I knew she was right. It was going to be heartbreaking when we eventually had to say goodbye to Harrison, and not only for Adrian, Paula and me but also for Harrison.
At 2.50, allowing plenty of time to collect Adrian and Paula from school, I carefully lifted Harrison, still asleep, from the bouncing cradle and tucked him into the carry car seat. The trolley bag from Harrison’s mother was still in the hall and I now took it upstairs and put it in Harrison’s room, where it would be out of the way. I’d unpack it later when I had the time. Downstairs again, I picked up the pram chassis (which the baby seat fitted into) and, opening the front door, took it out to the car, where I stowed it in the boot. I returned to the hall and carried Harrison in the seat to the car and strapped him under the rear belt, carefully checking all the straps. While all this took time and conscious thought I knew that very soon it would become an easy routine which I would follow automatically on leaving the house, just as I had with Adrian and Paula.
I felt self-conscious and also excited as I entered the playground pushing the pram that afternoon. Although Adrian and Paula knew I would be collecting Harrison from the hospital, it had all happened so quickly that none of my friends and mothers to whom I chatted in the playground knew I would be arriving with a baby. I was right in thinking it would cause some interest and comments, for within a minute of entering the playground Harrison was the centre of attention. ‘Oh, what a darling baby!’ … ‘Isn’t he cute!’ … ‘That was quick work, Cathy!’ … ‘He’s not very old’ … ‘You’re a sly one – who’s the lucky guy?’ … ‘I’m broody’ … and so on.
When the bell rang, signalling the end of school, I pushed the pram towards the door Paula would come out of. Those mothers with children in the same class came with me, still chatting and asking questions about Harrison, while others went off to collect children from different exits. While I was able to answer questions about Harrison’s name, weight and when he was born, to most of the other questions I replied a polite ‘Sorry I don’t know.’ And even if I had known details of Harrison’s background, confidentiality forbade me from sharing these with anyone apart from the other professionals involved in his case.
As soon as Paula came out she grinned and rushed over. ‘Can I see him?’ she said, edging her way in between two mothers who were still leaning over the pram.
‘Hi, Harry,’ Paula said, and gave a little wave.
Harry replied by opening his mouth wide and giving a big yawn.
An affectionate chorus of ‘Aaahhh’ went up from the two mothers before they went off to collect their own children.
‘Can I push the pram?’ Paula asked, passing me her reading folder to carry and taking hold of the handlebar.
Adrian appeared with Josh, a boy from his class. ‘That’s him,’ Adrian said to Josh, pointing at the pram.
‘I’ve got one at home,’ Josh said, pulling a face. ‘They’re very smelly. Poo!’ he said, holding his nose for emphasis. Both boys dissolved into laughter.
‘Sshh, you’ll wake him,’ Paula cautioned, assuming a maternal role.
‘Mine cries and poos all day and night,’ Josh said happily, pulling another face, before running over to his mother, who was also pushing a pram.
‘Have you had a good day at school?’ I finally got to ask.
‘Yes. I got ten out of ten in the spelling test,’ Adrian said. ‘And Andrew’s asked me to his football party. Can I go?’
‘I’m sure you can. When is it?’
‘He’s giving out the invitations tomorrow. An ex-Liverpool player’s going to coach us.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said.
We began across the playground, with Adrian still chatting excitedly about the forthcoming football party, and Paula proudly pushing the pram and shushing Adrian not to disturb Harrison, while Harrison was trying to open his eyes and see what all the fuss was about. I wondered if Harrison’s mother had fully appreciated the joy of being with children when she’d made the decision not to see her son; or perhaps she had and, unable to keep Harrison, had decided that no contact would be less painful than seeing him and having to say goodbye.
I was nearer the truth than I realized.
Chapter Five
The Case
Normally when we arrive home from school we fall into an easy routine. The children play while I make dinner; then after dinner Adrian does his homework while I hear Paula read. After that the children play or watch television until it’s time for a bath and bed. But today with a baby now part of our family the old routine vanished and organized chaos reigned. It began on the driveway before we’d even entered the house.
I’d parked the car, got out and opened the rear doors of the car, which had child locks on so couldn’t be opened from inside. Paula said she wanted to carry Harrison in his car seat into the house but I said it would be too heavy for her, so she sulked. Then Adrian opened the boot and began lifting out the chassis of the pram, which was helpful, except he accidentally caught Paula’s shoulder with his elbow and she, not having recovered from her pique, hollered – out of all proportion to the small bump she’d received. Adrian apologized but added that Paula shouldn’t have been standing in his way, so Paula retaliated by saying she hadn’t been in his way and he should be more careful. Harrison, whom I was holding in the carry car seat and who until now had been asleep, clearly felt it was time he joined in the fray and, opening his mouth wide, began to cry.
The situation didn’t improve indoors. I lay Harrison in the pram in the hall and began gently rocking him but without effect.
‘Perhaps he’s hungry,’ Paula suggested, still rubbing her shoulder.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I fed him just before I came to school.’
‘Perhaps he’s done a poo,’ Adrian said. ‘Josh says his brother poos all the time and it’s runny and smells horrid.’
‘It’s possible,’ I said. I undid a couple of buttons on Harrison’s sleepsuit and checked his nappy but it was clean.
I continued rocking the pram but Harrison’s cries grew and he became quite angry and red in the face. Adrian and Paula offered more suggestions, trying to outdo each other: Harrison was too hot, too cold, not tired or ‘He wants his proper mummy,’ which didn’t help. Then they looked at me as though I should have known what was making Harrison cry and I started to feel inadequate that I didn’t. Instinctively I picked him up and as I did he let out a large burp and his body relaxed.
‘It’s wind,’ I said, as relieved as Harrison, and able to reclaim some of my parenting kudos. ‘I should have thought of that sooner.’
‘Yes,’ Adrian and Paula agreed, as I massaged Harrison’s back.
Once he was completely comfortable I returned him to the pram. ‘We’ll leave him to sleep,’ I said.
Adrian and Paula went off to play – separately – while I began to make dinner, but fifteen minutes later the phone rang,