Maternal Pity
The alarm on my mobile trilled. I stretched out in bed.
Ah, what a lovely day! I opened my eyes to see the crisp, new bedding black, just as Id wanted for ages. Laura had given it to me for my birthday. Thanks, love!
It was raining outside. Well, nothing for it rains just rain. Besides, the day was set to be a good one: up until lunchtime, Id be at the surgery with Mr Alexander Richards, our endlessly upbeat orthopaedic consultant. The young nurses hadnt yet got the hang of chatting to patients kindly, but he held onto me like I was his lifeline. Afterwards, it was house visits to patients.
I worked at the local clinic and also did shifts at the school surgery. Often, Id pick up private home visits: injections, drips, the odd procedure for local regulars. Id been doing it for so long that people in our part of Cambridge all recommended me. The extra cash was vital; being a single woman, I always had to stay afloat. Thanks to it, I had managed a proper home renovation and could help my kids. Especially my daughter, who lived just round the corner and was barely out of one maternity leave before the next.
I slid my feet into my favourite grey slippers, then plopped myself into my battered old armchair. A cup of coffee, a dab of makeup, some hairspray for my wayward hair, tight cropped jeans, and I banished any thoughts of dieting for another day.
I walked to work, smiling under my umbrella. I was known for my cheerfulness.
Youre like a ray of sunshine, Nadia. When you walk in, it feels brighter, the mood lifts, and being ill isnt half as bad, one of my patients said, smiling. You must be a happy woman!
Happy? I laughed. Well, yes, I suppose I am, I nodded.
Why argue?
I held firmly to the idea that happiness, or misery for that matter, was all in ones thoughts; lifes circumstances were less important. Who knows if I was happy? There had been bad times.
My son, when little, was terribly ill after a birth injury. I got used to doing everything I could, fighting lifes battles head-on.
My husband had been full of surprises when we were younger like the time he left me for someone else. We spent three years apart. Who could I, stuck with two kids, really lean on? Im not from Cambridge Id grown up in Manchester. I settled here with my husband after university. My mum and brother stayed behind up north. There were problems there too: my mum tried to save my brother, whose drinking was out of control.
Still, I never lost hope during those tough years I pulled through. My husband returned, begging forgiveness for over a year. I forgave him, patching over the dark place in my heart with positive thoughts.
Now I was well past fifty and a widow for four years. My son had a good job all the way in Leeds, my daughter lived with her family just two estates over. We all had our problems, but thats life. Whether you call it happy or not thats your choice.
Morning, Mr Richards!
The doctor arrived for the list and I had everything ready.
Morning is only good for the snails and the roses, Mrs Hope-James, he smirked. For us, expect a stream of patients. Whether or not theres a connection between rain and a bad back, people believe it. Brace yourself
I loved my work retirement wasnt something I dwelled on. Sometimes I saw my friend Linda a teacher, who was equally knackered looking after grandkids, so our get-togethers were rare but cherished.
***
Then something changed the time came for me to bring my elderly mum down from Manchester. My brother had died a few years before, and mum couldnt cope alone. So, I brought her from the north.
Oh Nadia, how will Vicky and John manage up there without me? No one will look after them. Poor things, poor dears
Oh, mum, I said, Theyll be fine! Theyre young and healthy, lifes still ahead. Why not worry about yourself for once? Youll get a proper rest.
Mum sat on the bottom bunk in the train carriage, shaking her head, full of sorrow for the grandchildren she was leaving. Five years had passed since my brother, her only son, died. She pitied everyone his children, the old neighbours, Manchester itself and everything shed had to leave. For her, it had always been about caring for someone else.
Thinking about herself? Unthinkable. Mums generation never learned to do it. They needed people to look after. Otherwise, what was the point?
It hadnt been easy for me to take that time off Id begged for leave from both jobs. I brought her here like a rescue mission. Shed worn herself out for years, trying to save my brother from drink and the mess it brought. But in the end, she wasnt strong enough and hed died, passed out drunk during autumn fishing, freezing in the night.
In trying to save him, her own health collapsed. And then, out of guilt for his death guilt she needlessly carried she took on looking after his two sons, her grandsons.
You see, their mum is run off her feet. Whens she meant to feed them? So, they come to me Mum said on the phone. Its no bother for me. Im up early, get a stew on, make pastry, then nip to the shops. Theyll be here soon, and John loves his cottage cheese.
Mum, arent you taking on too much? The boys are eating there every day now.
Not every day. And I dont mind. Im glad to, really
I tried to convince her, from a distance, that her help had become a burden. But the boys problems seemed never-ending.
Vickys in college, and their mother hasnt got much. Hes without his dad, poor lad. So, I gave him some money for trainers proper ones he said. Hell pay me back when hes sorted.
Id sneak a look at their social media. My nephews and their mum were doing just fine smart clothes, cafes, holidays, while my mother dragged her shopping trolley home, leaving herself skint each month, all out of a sense of self-sacrifice.
Eventually, I saw there was no changing how mum lived up there. The only answer was to bring her down to me, though it took time to arrange it.
Oh, just bring her already! Linda would say whenever I complained.
Shes not a suitcase you cant just pick her up and go. She wont leave, Linda.
Only now, as her health finally failed, had she agreed to come.
We began to adjust both of us. Mum to new routines, a new city; me, to having mum at home. Of course, we had her checked out at the GP, gave her the treatment she needed, and soon she visibly improved.
There were spats. Of course there were. When someones made their own decisions all their life, its not easy to accept someone elses word as final. We were both used to being in charge. It felt odd, at nearly sixty, to ask permission to pop out with Linda for a stroll in the evening.
Where do you think youre off to? Its dark out. Stay in!
Ill go, mum.
Shed huff and sulk in silence for a bit.
Time passed; we grew more used to one another. Shed phone Manchester often, natter with the grandsons, her old daughter-in-law, her friends. Shed ask me to send money to the grandsons Id transfer what she wanted.
She finally began to see the boys didnt need her after all; they were fine and rarely rang her now. I was here with her instead, and she was becoming attuned to my life and its routine to my worries, my moods. She could recognise a change in my tone or even my step.
She realised, at last, her well-settled daughter had troubles of her own. Thats when mum found a new object for her compassion.
I was exhausted. Some evenings after work, especially after mass medical checks at the school, I could barely form a sentence. Id pick up the grandchildren from nursery, wanting to help my daughter too. I walked all round our area to patients who, kind though they might be, werent always the easiest to please.
But I had always coped. Id come home, stretch out for half an hour, loving that quiet time with my feet up, no pressure just letting my back and mind recharge, before I got on with the cooking and the evening ritual. Solitude after a day of people was something I needed badly.
At first, when we were still finding our feet together, mum would start fussing as soon as I walked in not even letting me take my shoes off.
Ive peeled the potatoes. But youd best do them the way you like. And can you check these tablets? I rang Vicky, his new girlfriend is this and that
In the end, I had to spell it out to ask mum for half an hours peace, just to lie down.
Now, those thirty minutes were spent listening to mum in the next room, moaning her litany of concern.
Tired again, oh so tired How much harder can you work? Where will you get money for this and that? If only you had a million, you could stop. Soon youll retire, but is that enough for us? Just use my pension, we could live on that! Give it up, you always want more
Lying there, listening, Id start pitying myself. Yes, my legs ached, and was the pay really worth it? I ran around, always trying to help, and people barely thanked me. The Lebedevs called me twelve times instead of ten and didnt pay extra and still gave me the evil eye, as if their grandfathers continued cough was my fault. Id feel properly aggrieved. Thats the power of a mothers pity.
More and more, mums voice was full of worry.
Nadia, lie down! Why are you up? Its your day off, for heavens sake.
Ive already slept, mum.
Well, rest anyway. If you want to lie in all day, you do that. Youve been on your feet all week, and Ill manage not like I cant feed myself.
So, Id pour another coffee and climb right back into bed. After all, I had been running all week, and who was I trying to impress? Id phone Laura to say I wasnt coming over Id rest today.
If you must wash those windows again, couldnt it have waited? Theyre not going anywhere mum would moan when I cleaned.
And so, the windows stayed dirty. She was right they could wait.
Ill take Archie and Liz this weekend Laura and Mark have a wedding.
Oh? Well, take them if you must. But youll not get a rest. What help am I, after all? I feel so sorry for you what a life you have!
Lifes alright, mum, honestly.
Mmm, shed wave her hand dismissively, one slog after another, no peace at all. Back and forth, youre not exactly getting any younger. Its time you thought about yourself and got some rest.
Her energy, her sadness, seeped in. I started to believe I had it tough, that my life wasnt much fun at all. I began to see myself as put-upon, exhausted by fate.
I started cooking dinner absent-mindedly, sullen and weary. Everything felt pointless. Why keep spinning my wheels?
Laura, my daughter, noticed. Mum, whats wrong? Even Liz says grandma isnt funny anymore. You seem down. Or is it just me? Has grandmas arrival affected you more than you realised? Think about it.
Just getting older, Id thought. Surely, that was all?
But Lauras words rang in my ears. Was my mood linked to mum moving in? The more I thought, the more shaken I was by it beads of sweat on my forehead.
Mum had always pitied my brother. As a child, he was ill, then troubled at school, then drank. Shed fought for him all her life.
Did it help, in the end?
When Id visit home, usually in summer, hed be in between jobs, still relying on mum for meals and a place to lounge. Meanwhile, Id rush around helping with everything I could in the little time I had.
Lie down, Nadia! Why are you always rushing around? mum would say, wanting her children to rest as if that would bring happiness. What mother doesnt want it?
But I ignored her, got on with things.
My brother would just lie there. I always saw time as money, couldnt grasp how he could be so idle. I was there just two weeks, and he didnt seem to stir the whole time.
Mum insisted he was just not a morning person, that it was hard for him jobs hard to come by, people nasty, the world unfair.
Strangely, he only seemed cheery when hed got money together for another drink.
Could it be? Had mum’s kindness and pity actually ruined him? Surely not. We arent responsible for anothers happiness or misery we all make our own choices. But why do we thrive around some people, and shrivel with others? Were inspired by people who see us as strong; we wilt around those who see us as victims.
It dawned on me: Id dampened my own spark to fit the vision mum wanted for me a picture of a woman to be pitied. Its always easier that way. They pity you, and soon, you pity yourself
My forehead was damp.
A persons happiness comes from their thoughts, not what happens to them wasnt that what Id always believed?
Then what was I doing to myself?
The next day, after talking again with Laura, I overheard the nurses in the corridor.
Hasnt Mrs Hope-James changed? She used to be so jolly
Wonder if shes ill? People do hide things
Ill? Yes, I thought sick of self-pity.
That day, I worked with a male gastroenterologist. In came a shy young lad, speaking in riddles, clearly never faced this sort of problem before.
Suddenly, my good humour returned and I lifted his spirits with some gentle teasing. The doctor prescribed suppositories and explained the instructions.
What about afterwards? the lad asked, Do I have to take it out?
Take it out? The doctor looked confused. No, no it dissolves.
Dissolves? The patient turned to me, wide-eyed.
How did you think it worked? I smiled.
We all burst into helpless laughter and at that moment, I felt myself again.
No, I mustnt indulge in self-pity. I truly mustnt!
That day, I booked an appointment at the hairdresser. Then I rang Mrs Fox, one of my long-standing patients, for a catch-up. I announced to all my regulars that I was back doing house calls. No sooner had I done it than I realised how much Id actually missed them.
Linda, you there? We need a get-together. Im sick of lying about at home.
Well, blow me! Is that the sound of a miracle? laughed Linda. Welcome back, love!
Mum wasnt thrilled.
Why? Havent we enough money? Youll never earn it all.
Its not about money, mum. I need to live. Im used to it.
Well, if you dont take care of yourself, no one else will.
Youre already taking care of me, mum. Thats enough. Try to be happy for me, wont you? I am fortunate, you know. And Id like you to believe that. Our thoughts shape reality yours doubly so, you know!
Nonsense, she waved her hand. Youll wear yourself out, everythings aching, and your age
You couldnt change her mind, nor did it matter. Mum was losing her sense of purpose her daughter no longer needed her pity. At her age, could she find a new one? She sulked, hogged my attention, and worried.
Now I just needed to help mum rediscover herself, without sacrificing my own happiness to her endless sympathy.
The alarm trilled. I stretched in bed. Ah! Lovely morning! My new leopard-print pyjamas Id wanted them for ages and Laura had remembered. Thanks, love.
Oh, Ive not slept a wink, came mums voice from next room. Cursed rain, hammering all night
Rain again? Oh well, so be it. I slid into my favourite grey slippers, plonked myself in my old chair, had a cup of coffee, touched up my makeup, tamed my hair with spray, squeezed into my jeans, and told any worries to shove off.
I swung my umbrella and walked to work with a smile.
Rain or shine, it was going to be a wonderful day.
A happy womans day.
***That afternoon, as I hurried back from a house call, rain droplets freckling my glasses, I glanced at the bakery window and saw two freshly baked Chelsea buns, just like mum used to make. On impulse, I bought them. When I came home, mum was napping in her chair, her knitting tangled at her feet. I arranged the buns on a plate, warmed the milk, and woke her gently.
She blinked, startled, then smiled at the smell. Chelsea buns? Now you are spoiling me.
Just this once, I winked. Its a treat. You deserve it.
We ate together, quietly at first, then reminiscingabout those kitchen tables long gone, about the Manchester rain, about people who had come and gone. Mums eyes grew soft. Maybe I did too much for others. But its what kept me going, you know?
I know, Mum, I said, squeezing her hand. But its alright to let yourself be happy, too. Maybe happiness isnt in the fussing and fixing. Maybe its in sharing a Chelsea bun on a rainy afternoon, just because.
She laughed and, for a moment, looked younger. Maybe youre right.
Later, in my room, I paused before the mirror and saw a woman brushed by time, yet undefeated. Outside, the rain lightened. In the glass, I caught my own smileunforced, bright.
Life would carry on, with all its storms and sunshine, and so would weside by side, stubbornly hopeful. I slipped into my slippers and, hearing mums humming in the next room, thought: this is enough.
Tomorrow, Id rise with the alarm, ready to chase the day one more timenot out of duty but out of gratitude.
Because sometimes, when the world sighs and pities you, the greatest kindness is to laugh, step outside, and show everyoneincluding yourselfjust how happily you can dance in the rain.
