I thought I would be exhausted by the end of our short trip, trying to balance his needs with that of my profession, but it was a blessing
While the buses had space for strollers, getting on and off the bus with it was daunting and frighteningly difficult. Representation pic
A mother of two, the partner of my partner’s cousin, remarked that I was a strong woman for daring to spend almost four days alone with my two-and-a-half-month-old in another city. I didn’t see it that way at all. I simply didn’t have a choice. Of course, that’s a fallacious thing to say. One always has more options than seem obvious at first glance. But I had run out of them. My sister, who was originally meant to be here at this time, couldn’t make it, for various reasons. My partner couldn’t take leave on short notice, and most friends I would have relied on had other obligations at exactly this time. The only other alternative I could foresee was withdrawing my participation from the exhibition that was meant to be the culmination of my residency at Künstlerhaus Büchsenhausen in Innsbruck, or dramatically limiting the scale of what I had intended to do. This option would mean I was already being forced to sacrifice something significant on account of being a mother. This decision didn’t sit well with me. So, on Sunday, after having spent Friday and Saturday morning teaching at the Bozen University—an immensely rewarding experience—my partner and I drove to Innsbruck. After attending our friends’ secular baptism party, he dropped me off at the residency and left shortly after. And so it came to be just the two of us. And it has been nothing short of fabulous.
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I had initially considered writing a daily report that I could then metabolise into my column for this week, but I got sceptical after the first day went so well. I was so terrified of jinxing it, of committing to writing my elation only to discover that the next day was a disaster. You see, at the beginning of last week, I had an appointment with my tax consultant at 8 am. Because of the logistics concerning the unfortunately tiny size of our car and the largeness of the bassinet, I thought it made sense for me to take the bus with our child and let my partner drive by car, since he had to travel to work immediately after. I had various errands to run and friends to meet later, and I felt sure I could manage. I was sorely mistaken. Getting on and off the bus was frighteningly difficult. They had been designed for able-bodied people, and not with consideration for those with handicaps, or mothers with strollers. Although there was space for strollers, simply getting the stroller on and off the bus was daunting, and it made our child uncomfortable enough to start crying. Given that he rarely ever cries, I felt flustered when he did. Because my anxiety had already kicked in, over the rest of our day outdoors I got increasingly out of sync with his needs. I was so relieved when we returned to the safety and comfort of our home.
The next few days I found myself being more carefully attentive to his cues. I began to note his nap times, the relative duration of his feeds, and the various registers he uses to communicate his needs. I thought about the logistics of the studio we would be inhabiting at Künstlerhaus Büchsenhausen, which is on the third floor, and began to anticipate all the difficulties I would run into. I arranged for a stroller with a crib to be kept downstairs, so I wouldn’t have to carry it all the way up the flight of stairs. I picked the two soft toys to which he is most responsive, and programmed my display within the exhibition in such a way that it wasn’t too challenging or overwhelming to manage. I tried to control whatever parameters were within my control.
It has all turned out so beautifully. It is now 7 am on a Thursday morning. My partner will soon be on his way here so he can care for our child, allowing me to be more present at the press preview and the opening this evening. I am extremely happy with the way my display turned out. Working on it brought me even closer to the heart of my thesis—In the Name of the Mother. I experienced a sense of self-pride when I surveyed the scope and extent of all the research I have managed to do since October, and all my work on the subject in the last two years, enough for an entire book. I printed some of my columns relating to my experience of motherhood and they now hang as part of my assemblage.
The best reward, however, has been the gift of sleep. Since Sunday he has been consistently sleeping for six-hour stretches at night, usually from 8.30 pm until 3 am. My ability to be productive over the last few days is owing to this luxury. Yesterday, when I woke up at 4 am to feed him, I felt more rested than I had felt in the last two months. I was tempted to use the time to work, but instead, wisely decided to return to sleep.
As this intensity of our time together comes to an end, for the moment, I don’t feel relief. I feel blessed. I expected I would be frustrated by now, balancing the demands of mothering full-time while also having to use both my mind and my body to install my work, and yet I feel only joy. Each night as I unwound after he was asleep, I found myself smiling at how marvellous the day had been, and recalled all the mundane ecstasies he and I had experienced together. I thought back to what my poet-mother-friend had told me when I’d shared with her my anxiety about being alone with our child for this timespan. “This solo travel is a big milestone. I’m sure it will increase your confidence.” She couldn’t have been more spot on.
Deliberating on the life and times of Everywoman, Rosalyn D’Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper
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