Baby Therapy

Over the years a number of things have held me together. Recently, a new addition. My auntie’s baby. A three month old boy who is the most adorable little thing I’ve ever seen. Many, many things that are supposed to make you happy have no effect on me. A lot of my time is spent feeling numb and medicated. But very occasionally I find these little things that manage to break through the haze. My auntie’s baby. Holding him is the single most pleasurable thing I have experienced in a long time. I don’t mean to get overly sentimental, but holding a little life in my arms is very moving. Being a woman of 25, I suppose my body is desperate to make use of my womb, and my primal instincts are kicking in. Whatever it is, this baby has somehow managed to sneak past the prozac, dodge the rancid little puddles of negativity in my brain, and raise a smile, and a fleeting feeling of true happiness.

Last night I visited the auntie, and as I approached her house, I saw, through her patio doors, a cot with the little baby kicking away under his blankets, looking up at the mobile above his head, which, in the dark, glowed blue and purple, and probably played a tune, which I obviously couldn’t hear. For reasons unknown to me it was the nicest thing I’d seen in a long time. He looked very peaceful.

It’s ridiculous how broody I am. But I also know that right now is too soon. I don’t think prozac would exactly agree with a developing fetus. Not to mention post natal depression. I can only hope that one day I will be in a better position.

There is a kind of therapy that involves going to a stable and looking after and stroking horses. But I think it would be better to have a room full of babies. Well, it would certainly help me……