Jamie, do you even hear yourself? You think I should go through pregnancy at forty just to patch up your mistakes from when you were young?
I asked him this with exasperation, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.
Why am I suddenly the one who has to pay for the fact that you preferred tinkering in your shed to spending time with your own son? I shot back, my frustration barely contained.
Oh Alice, you keep saying the same thing! Jamie pleaded, his tone insistent. I was young and clueless! I didnt appreciate what I was losing. Now its all gone. Ben doesnt even consider me his father anymore!
And hes not wrong, is he? I smiled bitterly. For seventeen years, he grew up with a flatmate, not a dad. What did you think, Jamie? That you could switch your child on and off like the telly, playing the dad whenever you fancied it?
He scowled, a familiar flicker of irritation in his expression the same look he always wore whenever his responsibilities as a father were mentioned.
For goodness sake, Alice! Thats all in the past. Give me another chance, he pressed.
Another chance for what? So you can get your fill and then leave me holding the fort again, raising another child on my own? Once was quite enough for me, thanks! No, Jamie. Were not even discussing it.
He pulled a face, stung and furious, unable to come up with a retort. Instead, he snorted and retreated into his phone.
The argument was over. For now, at least. But the issue hovered over me, heavy as storm clouds. It wasnt just Jamies ludicrous demands that stung it was the sadness I felt for our son, Ben.
I was only twenty-three when Ben was born. I can remember every detail: standing by the hospital, exhausted but giddy, cradling that tiny, blanketed bundle in my arms.
Jamie hovered, looking almost predatory in his intensity, never leaving my side. He beamed, fussing with the blanket, kissing my forehead, sometimes holding Ben awkwardly but reverently.
Hes the spitting image of me! Look, hes even got my chin dimple, hed marvel, pride shining in his eyes. Im a dad now, Alice!
Its only just hit me what that means. Ill do everything for him, and with him! Well go for walks, Ill change nappies, teach him to play footie Ill be the best dad in the world, youll see!
I believed him. I saw that excitement in his eyes and trusted every word. I thought wed have the perfect family, full of love and laughter.
But reality, as it so often does, proved less romantic and far more unforgiving…
Late at night. I paced about the living room, dark circles beneath my eyes, as Ben screamed with colic the third time that night. Meanwhile, Jamie rolled over in bed, yanking the duvet over his head.
Will you quiet him down already? he hissed, annoyed. Ive got work in the morning!
Those words still sting. Id take Ben into another room, tears of exhaustion blurring my vision, and rock him for hours so Jamie could sleep undisturbed.
Come the weekend, Id plead, worn down from another sleepless week:
Jamie, could you please just take him for a couple of hours? Im dead on my feet; I just need a nap…
Alice, can we leave it for later? The lads are bringing over a car to fix, Ive got plans.
I honestly cant
But youve always been the strong one, love! Youll manage. Ill give you a hand later, yeah?
The door would shut behind him, leaving me alone with my strength and motherhoods relentless demands. Later never came.
Time passed. Ben grew older. I tried to foster some bond between father and son. Once, I handed Jamie our chubby-cheeked boy, arms outstretched for daddy, not so I could rest, but in hopes of connecting them.
Jamie took Ben like hed been handed something suspicious; holding him at arms length, gaze fixed past him at the football on TV. After a minute, maybe two, he set the boy down and went back to the match.
When Ben was five, he sat building a Lego castle on the lounge rug as Jamie breezed by to the sofa, barely sparing him a glance. Ben didnt look up. He was used to his fathers absence.
I cant say Jamie was a total deadbeat. He brought home his wages, helped with the cooking now and then. But he missed his own sons childhood. Should it really be a surprise that grown-up Ben now treats him like a distant relation?
Eventually, Jamie tried to make conversation.
Hey, Ben, hows school?
Um Its alright, Ben would mumble, wishing to escape to his room.
Marks all fine, I hope? If you need help, just ask. Im pretty handy with a bit of maths. Dont want my lad ending up as the local road sweeper, do I?
No worries, Dad. Im all good, really, across the threshold already, keen not to linger.
Well, if you fancy going fishing at the weekend, let me know! Jamie would holler after him.
But Ben had plans: a school disco where hed asked out a girl and been turned down. He couldnt care less about fishing. Only I knew these things. The opportunity, I realised, had passed. Ben was no longer the little boy who yearned for his dad. His childhood the one Jamie wanted to relive had ended, never to return.
So then Jamie started talking about doing it right this time, having another baby. Me, remembering every sleepless night, every hollow promise, said no. Absolutely not.
It wasnt long before our families intervened.
Love, I know all about it, Jamies told me everything, my mum said gently. Give him another chance. Hes changed, Alice. Doesnt everyone deserve a second go? Its such a blessing, raising another little one!
Jamies mum chimed in too.
Alice, if you dont agree, you might lose him, she warned. Jamie so wants to be a dad. If not you, another woman might give him that. And youd benefit, too. Bens nearly off to university. A second child would glue your marriage together and be company for you when youre old.
Theres scarcely anything worse than hearing things like that from another woman as if my life, my body, was up for negotiation.
I felt invisible: just mum and wife, never a bone-weary woman whod already been down this road and knew exactly where it led.
Finally, in desperation, an idea came to me half-mad, but maybe itd prove my point. I hunted in the loft, dug out the old box of Bens baby things, and found his battered but working Tamagotchi.
This little plastic keyring pet needed feeding, entertaining, cleaning, and the rest. When Jamie got home that evening, I handed him the egg-shaped toy with its tiny worn screen.
Whats this? he asked, puzzled.
Its your test run, I explained. Try managing even a tenth of what a real parent does. Feed it, play with it, clean up after it all at set times.
Like a baby, but you just press buttons. If you muck it up, itll beep loudly and let you know. If, after a year, your Tamagotchis still alive, Ill believe youre ready for a child.
He looked at me, laughed out loud, thought it was a joke. But my stony face gave nothing away, and his laughter fizzled into irritation.
Are you serious? Comparing a real baby to this bit of plastic?
Start with this. If you cant manage even a toy, how will you cope with a real child?
He smirked, stuffing the Tamagotchi in his pocket, clearly assuming it was a doddle.
For three nights, he dutifully woke up to the toys beeps, feeding and cleaning it. By the fifth, he was losing his temper but stuck at it. After a week, he complained he couldnt focus at work through lack of sleep.
On day eight, he came home and lobbed the Tamagotchi onto the kitchen table. A glaring cross on the screen told the story: hed failed.
Forgot to feed it. Was swamped at work, he muttered, not meeting my eyes.
Things got quieter after that. Arguments didnt stop altogether, but they lost their fire. Jamie no longer pressed his case so forcefully.
Three years on, life sorted itself out. Ben, now a university student, brought home his girlfriend, soon announcing they were expecting a baby.
Jamie changed again, his enthusiasm endless. He started talking of his second chance, this time as a granddad. He bought a pram with his savings, stacks of baby-grows without checking the sizes, and complex building sets for a baby who couldnt even crawl. He promised, hands on heart, hed be the best grandad ever that hed help with everything, babysit, take long walks.
I watched, sceptical but quietly resigned.
When our grandson arrived, the story repeated itself. Jamie chipped in eagerly at first rocking, taking photos, the proud granddad. But once the honeymoon period faded, so did his effort.
Once the young couple rented their own place, Jamies help became the occasional well-timed weekend visit, when the baby was bathed, fed and in a good mood.
Let there be a whimper, and Jamie had to rush a work call, an urgent meeting, his mum calling about her allotment.
I found myself stepping in, watching the whole parade, and realised Id done the right thing.
Ben turned into a thoughtful, responsible man; he stuck by his partner and never left her facing parenthood alone. Jamie well, Jamie never changed. He loved the idea of family, the image of being a father, but never grasped what it really meant.
If anyones reading this, Id love to hear your thoughts. Was I right to put my foot down? Let me know what you think in the comments, and do ring a like if you agree.
