Free The Celibate Mouse by Diana Hockley Page B

my eyes out. Not so easy remembering the bad bits.
    In the event, our family and friends rallied around. David’s parents bought a double pram, my parents (grumbling) the cot and friends organised a huge baby shower which generated a cascade of nappies, bottles, clothes and goodies.
    I admit something of our difficulty, because Marli is no fool. ‘We were scared silly. All of a sudden ‘playing house’ was over. Even while we thought we were expecting one baby, it was like playing dolls. For me that is, but I don’t think it was quite like that for your father.’ Too right it wasn’t.
    He arrived home the following day and announced with quiet anger, that he’d found us a house where we were able to not only keep the cat, but they were “kid friendly.” And he’d take on extra work to keep the roof over our heads and save for our own house which we realised we’d have to buy. We were overwhelmed by the double pregnancy and so worried about money, we’d forgotten to love each other.
    I need to choose my words carefully and not infer that we destroyed our marriage because we were too immature to cope with two babies. ‘Your father worked every shift he could cope with because we needed the money. I stayed at work as long as I could. My male colleagues jittered, as they watched my stomach expand, like a thousand kilo watermelon was waiting to explode.’
    We laugh. ‘I was hidden away in the bowels of the station checking on licences, criminal records and doing paperwork. They had to send to the uniform stores to find XXXL shirts which would cover my stomach.
    ‘So what happened when we were born, Mum?’ My daughter isn’t about to let me close down now that she’s got me talking. Strangely, this has never really come up before.
    ‘As the doctor predicted, you came early. I was issuing a driver’s licence renewal when my water broke. The men were horrified. Someone called the female cleaner to hold my hand and mop, not necessarily in that order. I was whisked off to hospital and your father arrived in time to see the pair of you in your humidicrib.’
    ‘Was he pleased about us then?’
    ‘Yes, he was thrilled.’
    It wasn’t long before he changed his mind: ‘Susan, can’t you keep them from screaming? I’ve got to get some sleep. I’m working tonight, can’t you do something? How long is this going to go on for?’ Well, sort of forever, David.
    ‘How did you cope with us?’ asks Marli, brow wrinkled with anxiety.
    ‘Most of the time I took you out for long walks while your father slept.’
    I wince, remembering my nipples cracking and bleeding, and the babies only sleeping for minutes at a time. Finally, the clinic sister discovered I didn’t have enough milk and put them both on the bottle. At first we were ecstatic, but then they got colic. All I seemed to do was cry and screech at David who tried to be sympathetic. When he was in ‘help’ mode, we would sit up half the night covered in regurgitated milk and poo, half-asleep, each rocking a baby. The house remained knee-deep in nappies and baby clothes. I couldn’t keep up with the washing, which piled up behind the bathroom door. I stayed in my dressing gown for the day and had to rush like a maniac to get dressed before David got home.
    We grew haggard and snapped at each other. We got no relief from the pressure of newborns who were afflicted with colic. David’s mother and sisters always had something more important to do; my mother and father were overseas on a long-planned trip. My sister studied at an interstate university, and my girlfriends were working, only able to help out here and there on weekends.
    Marli’s voice snaps me back to the present. ‘Mum? You can’t stop now.’
    ‘Okay. My friends came over as often as they could, washed all the dirty clothes, cleaned the house and even ironed your father’s uniforms. I was so grateful.’
    But finally the shit hit the fan well and truly. After yet another argument, David