You really ought to have sorted everything before the baby came!
My discharge from the hospital was a spectacle. My husband dashed over straight from the office, briefcase and all, because apparently business reports dont write themselves. I begged him to take holiday, or even just a cheeky day off, but his manager flatly refused. I askedmultiple timesfor him to get everything ready for the baby, and he swore blind he would. Had I not taken his word for it, wed have done the laundry, bought all the essentials, and whipped the house into shape. But did we? Of course not! bemoaned thirty-year-old Emily.
So, did he break his promise?
Well, I toddled off to hospital as unprepared as a picnic in January. When I finally staggered home, the place was a complete tip. Family had already arrived, so there was nowhere to hide my shame. There was so much dust, I couldve played tic-tac-toe on the shelves. Not a pram in sight, no chest of drawers, not a onesie to be foundthe man hadnt even bothered picking out babygrows. Thank heavens my friends cobbled together some nappiesits the only reason our childs not been kitted out in a tea towel! Emily carried on.
Emily married Ben six years ago. Now, after carefully postponing parenthood while they tried to get themselves sorted, theyd finally jumped in. Once their life stopped resembling a permanent overdraft, Emily decided it was the perfect moment for a baby.
I told my boss I was pregnant, and he sacked me on the spot. Some people mightve raised a fuss, but I took it as a sign. I spent those months quietly anticipating motherhood, spent time cross-stitching, and enjoyed my freedom. Besides, Ben had just been promoted, so we werent exactly hunting down coins behind the sofa, she explained.
Her pregnancy went swimmingly. The soon-to-be mum read baby books, went on aimless strolls around the park, and picked out nursery bits at leisure.
Ben was adamant: under no circumstances was I allowed to buy anything before the baby arrived. Bad luck, he insisted. Supposedly, you arent meant to shop for babies before theyre outancient English superstition, or more likely, lazy husband syndrome. My sister swore she’d give us a cot and chest of drawers. Shed even put aside all sorts of bits and bobs for us. Told me to collect, wash, and sort everything. But no, I was only permitted to pack my hospital bag. Apparently, anything more would anger the Baby Item Fates, Emily sighed.
Come the big day, Ben realisedfar too late, mind youthat babies are a costly affair. As Emily tried not to scream at the midwife, she was also worrying that she hadnt even managed to hang up the washing before contractions started. So it all quietly got damp in the machine while she was gone.
Thank goodness for the hand-me-down babygrows and nappies from friends; otherwise, our little one would be sporting a bin liner. Ben dashed frantically about the city, cobbling together bits for the baby. Every item he found was in a statestained, dusty, looked like itd seen the trenches. I had to wash the lot, then dance round the radiators waiting for them to dry. At that point, I could have easily divorced him and set out on a one-way ticket to Majorca, she nearly sobbed.
For days, Emily blitzed the flat, swearing at every stray sock and crumb. Two months have passed since their sons grand arrival, and still she refuses to receive visitors.
Apparently, my lot think enough times gone by that they can all come round for a slap-up Sunday roast. Oh, marvellous. Im expected to rustle up a feastnever mind Im barely sleeping and have forgotten what clean hair feels like. Already, theyve started giving me helpful hintslike taking over my entire life, she added, her voice somewhat frazzled.
Emilys mother cant for the life of her understand why her daughter isnt more chipper. Its obvious the flat wasnt ready. Why didnt Emily do it herself? Shed had nine monthswhat was she doing, just cross-stitching and twiddling her thumbs? Couldnt she have made Ben lug in the furniture and given the place a good scrub? Surely it wouldn’t have been that hard to talk him round about the baby shopping. At the end of the day, you cant trust a man to remember his own socks, let alone a changing table. You simply have to take matters into your own hands. Who relies on chaps, anyway?
So, what do you reckon? Has Emily got a right to be miffed with her family, or should she have been more on the ball? Should she have prepped for the baby herself? What would you have done, in her shoes?
