My second son has just arrived in the world. The moment we were settled in at the hospital, a parade of beaming relatives began to file in. Both sets of grandparents were positively glowing, everyone wished me health and happiness, and there was a general outpouring of all the best!
Now, my mother-in-law and father-in-law own a rather spacious three-bedroom flat, my mum and sister have their generous house with an endless garden, and yetoddly enoughno one seems at all concerned that our own humble fifteen-metre box room is going to be, shall we say, a bit of a squeeze.
My in-laws also have a lovely country cottage, complete with a veggie patch and even a little stream not far off. They moved from the city to this rural haven and, alas, have displayed zero interest in our gentle suggestions about perhaps swapping homes for a spell.
Onceprecisely oncemy mother-in-law remarked, Were getting on a bit, you know. We like to sleep well (not that we ever really do); we each have our own room, and in the big sitting room we watch telly and have friends over.
I rather suspect she imagines the four of us will sleep like sardines, all lined up neatly, deaf to the nightly shrieks of the new baby. Absolutely charming, if you ask me.
Naturally, this train of thought played across my face like a poorly-scripted soap opera, because suddenly our once-merry visitors seemed to remember pressing appointments elsewhere and scurried away in every direction.
After wed waved everyone off, I turned to my husband, mustered a wry smile, and asked, So, darling when do you fancy heading home, then?He grinned, exhaustion and pride shining equal in his eyes. I suppose after another cup of hospital tea. Im in no rush for our sardine tin just yet.
We both laugheda shaky, warm sound. Cradling our newest son, I glanced at our tiny family, pressed together like papers in a well-loved book. Perhaps our box room would creak under the weight of four, and the walls would dance with bedtime wails and raucous morning joy. But here, now, I felt an unexpected swell of comforta certainty that we would fit, no matter how snug, that love would find every inch to fill.
Our home might never be grand. But as our baby yawned and nestled close, his brothers eager voice echoing from the corridor, I realized: sometimes, a room can be small, but a family never is.
