Page 8 of The 3am Shattered Mums' Club

Aisha had often been the one to break up the kitchen fights at the restaurant she managed before the babies came along, or calm any riled-up customers. Now, here she was unable to get a grip on her own emotions. She was glad she didn’t have anything to hand, because she was almost certain she would have flung it at her girlfriend. After she had taken Jude back, of course.

* * *

In the kitchen, Aisha pressed her hands against the cool surface of the kitchen table. She thought about how she and Charley had sat at this very kitchen table when Aisha was pregnant, imagining what their life would be like when they became parents to twins. They talked about a crazy, chaotic, happy world where they both mucked in. There would be laundry everywhere, they mused, but it wouldn’t matter, it would get done eventually. And there had always been the romantic notion that life would be like a romcom with people popping by at all hours, and she and Charley racing against each other to see who could change a nappy in the fastest time.

But all those months they had sat at that table – Aisha sipping little bits of Charley’s wine because a few sips weren’t going to harm the babies – there weren’t two tiny humans to care for 24/7, nor the stark reality of spending almost every day alone. It had only been seven weeks, but it felt like seven years. Time had suddenly slowed down and each minute felt like she was wading through mud to get to the next part of the day. And every time one of the twins cried or mewled, Aisha didn’t feel the rush of love she thought she would. Instead, she felt her skin prickle, her body tense up and she had an overwhelming desire to run, to hand the babies over to Charley or her mum and say, ‘Erm, I think I made a mistake. I’m not ready for this.’ Yet at the same time, she felt this obligation to protect the boys. She knew they needed her, and although it wasn’t the romcom-movie life she had anticipated, she knew she wouldn’t run. She knew she would stay.

Mel had assumed that Aisha was with a man, when she had referred to – Daz, was it? Aisha laughed to herself. Of course, she hadn’t mentioned that she was in a lesbian relationship, but it was funny how people always presumed she had a husband. That didn’t really bother her. Once she corrected people, most were very apologetic. Most people also wanted to know how the babies were conceived. Aisha considered what it would be like when she finally did get back out into the world again and the prospect of having to explain to more people that she had been artificially inseminated. Would she explain that she and Charley had sat for weeks looking over the profiles of potential sperm donors and that none of it was an easy journey? Not like the traditional method where most women could be chopping carrots for dinner one minute, mutter something about the ‘the girth on that vegetable’ to the man in her life, who might say, ‘I’ll show you some girth,’ and minutes later, she falls pregnant. She felt like a bit of a cheat, as though she didn’t deserve to have babies because she hadn’t done it the way every woman she had met had. It was true, aside from the couples they had struck up a rapport with on the support group forum, she hadn’t met any other women who had gone through a similar journey to her and Charley. The forum was helpful to a certain extent, but what was missing was being able to talk with someone face to face about it. Aisha hadn’t mentioned it to Charley because she was aware of how long they had discussed children before going ahead, but she struggled with the guilt of how many unwanted children there were in this world, and that if she and Charley couldn’t create a baby with one part of each of them, that they should have perhaps adopted instead of found a way to create a child with a total stranger. Which then ended up turning into two. Two babies who could go off into the world and potentially end up falling in love with a sibling who had been created by the same sperm donor. That was something that Aisha had considered more than once and she physically shuddered whenever it crept up on her. But Charley had told her it was such a small chance, and Aisha reminded her it was still a chance, and that there would be a film about it soon.

As Aisha stood in the kitchen, she half expected Charley to walk in and say something like ‘Rough day, huh?’ But this wasn’t the set ofFriends, and Charley was too absorbed in her projects to conjure up words that could be the catalyst to open the floodgates. However, if she did, Aisha was confident she would crumble on her feet, fall into Charley’s arms and tell her she felt like a fraction of herself, and didn’t know what was happening or how to fix it. But to do that would be to fail and she couldn’t let Charley see her as a failure. It had taken her two years after she had met Charley to come out to Martina and her siblings, and then it was she, Aisha, who had been the instigator to start a family. Charley had always said she hadn’t any desire to be pregnant. Charley was thirty-seven and even as a child had never played with dolls, or made-believe mums and dads; or even mums and mums. She had been entirely focused on playing the cello, reading classic novels, and of course – even from a young age – producing songs. And so Aisha knew it was she who would be the primary caregiver. Of course, Charley loved the bones of the boys. She was attentive to their needs when she was with them, but it was Aisha who was doing the lion’s share of the work. She tried to tell herself it wouldn’t be forever; soon the boys would be walking and talking and wouldn’t need her as much. She tried to imagine that day and conjure up the sadness she might feel, so that she could try to live in the now a little harder. It was difficult to envisage a time when she would be able to blow-dry her hair or pop to the shops alone and not feel a tsunami of guilt.

But Aisha needed to crack on and stop acting like such a baby when she already had two of her own reliant on her. She had watched her own mother battle her demons to raise five children by herself. She took a few deep breaths, then went to the fridge. She would make herself a gourmet-style sandwich to cheer herself up, and god knows she deserved it. She knew there was ham and Edam cheese, gherkins and pickled onions. Charley had bought some bread from the artisan bakery yesterday, which would still be fresh. But when Aisha opened the fridge, and although pleasantly surprised she was still shocked when she saw a plate with a fat sandwich, cling filmed, with a note stuck on the top.

So you don’t forget to eat. C x

Aisha felt a rush from her gut into her heart. She placed her hand on the wall to steady herself as the tears fell.

* * *

Aisha swallowed down each mouthful of sandwich as though it were clay. Despite it being her favourite of cheese, ham and pickle on rye, each mouthful was like ingesting her guilt over and over. She had so much guilt inside her these days. She never knew it was possible to feel so much of one emotion. She felt guilty when one twin cried whilst she held the other. She felt guilt when she rested her eyes as she lay on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon when the boys were napping. She felt guilt when Charley came into the lounge and she hadThis Morningon in the background to keep her company. She felt guilt when her mum texted her to see if she needed anything and she realised it had been days since she had even thought about her. She felt guilt when she didn’t even get the boys out of the house for half an hour some days and she stayed in her loungewear, which Charley still proclaimed were exactly the same as pyjamas. And now she was literally making herself sick with guilt by trying to swallow down the sandwich that Charley had already made. Aisha pulled the cling film back over the other half of the sandwich, put it back in the fridge and went back into the lounge. The TV was off, and the boys were not there. Panic surged through Aisha, even though she knew she was being ridiculous. Charley was their parent too. The panic turned to annoyance as Aisha began fluffing the cushions and picking up dirty muslins and empty bottles. She carried it all through into the kitchen, stacked a few bits into the dishwasher, then stopped as her ears pricked up to the music coming from the basement. She opened the door that led down to Charley’s studio and padded down the stairs. Inside the basement, the music was loud enough so Charley didn’t hear Aisha arrive. She was standing in front of her desk, which incorporated the recording suite – a mass of metal and buttons that Aisha had no understanding of. Charley had her back to her, and Aisha could see she was wearing the babies – who were still small enough that they could both fit inside the sling. Charley had always been keener on the sling than Aisha, even though she had bought it, imagining herself wrapping her babies up with ease and then carrying on with her daily tasks with their tiny bodies pressed against her, believing that they were still in the womb. But the first time Aisha had attempted to head out for a walk with the babies strapped to her, she had ended up in a twisted mountain of material, two screaming babies on the sofa and a raging anger bubbling up inside her. It looked so damn easy on the video, and why did all those model mums look so flippin’ happy, with a face full of make-up and not a stressed baby in sight? She had swaddled the babies in the pram and hadn’t attempted to get them back in the sling since. Aisha felt that familiar pang of anger now as she watched Charley swaying side to side. The music was a song fromThe Greatest Showman, one of Charley’s favourite films. The image of her girlfriend with their two children was almost a movie moment itself, but Aisha felt like crying for a different reason. How did Charley make it all look so bloody easy? She lunged forward – surprising Charley, who looked shocked to see her – then tried to engage her in a look that said,How adorable are they?

Of course, they were adorable now, but not all through the night, or the day when Aisha tried to settle them. Aisha leant over the mixing desk, looking for the volume amongst the chaos of buttons and levers. Charley leant over her and put her fingers on two buttons and slid them down. Hugh Jackman’s voice fell to a low level.

Charley turned and smiled.

‘I was just coming to say, I’ll take them. When you’re done. I had my lunch. I’m just going to take them out for a walk,’ Aisha said.

Charley didn’t say anything about the sandwich. It wasn’t her style.

‘Seems a shame to wake them.’ Charley looked down at the two tiny heads poking out of tightly bound grey material. ‘They love music – I should bring them down more often,’ she whispered.

‘I’m going to start taking them to that music group at the community hall in the summer, when they’re a bit older.’ Aisha heard the stinging tone to her voice, and she knew Charley had too. ‘They need fresh air,’ Aisha said flatly, although thinking that, in fact, she could just go and lie down for an hour while the babies slept soundly on Charley, who obviously had a little time to spare this morning. But instead, she looked firmly at Charley and waited for her response.

‘I’ll bring them up. If you get the buggy ready, we might be able to transfer them without them waking,’ Charley said optimistically.

Aisha managed a nod before she went back up the stairs. They both knew it was wishful thinking. Aisha was only going out for a walk to prove a point to Charley, and now she would be walking the streets, angry with herself and with Charley. And with two very awake, grumpy babies. What a joy.

* * *

3.06 a.m. – Aisha:Hi there, girls. Thanks for creating this WhatsApp group, Sophy. I was just up with the boys, and I thought, ‘Oh look it’s just 3 a.m.,’ so I thought I’d message and see if anyone else was up. It’s been quite a day and it would be nice to know if anyone else is awake?

3.10 a.m. – Sophy:Hey, Aisha, I’m up. I can’t see straight, but I’m up lol ??

3.11 a.m. – Aisha: It’s weird, isn’t it? I used to love being awake at this time.

3.11 a.m. – Sophy:Ha, me too – following the milkman home. That’s what we did in my home town in Milton Keynes ??

3.12 a.m. – Aisha:And now here we are, wishing we could be asleep!

3.13 a.m. – Sophy:I know, but these days won’t last forever, will they? That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Need to treasure these golden hours. It’s so good to know I’m not the only one awake though. Thanks for texting. We must meet up again soon.

3.14 a.m. – Aisha:Yes, we must. Good luck with the rest of the feed and getting a good night’s sleep.

3.14 a.m. – Sophy:U2 x

6.35 a.m. – Mel: Hi girls. Sky has only just woken up. I think I’m onto a winner with this one. She seems to prefer the latter side of the night, which is good because I loooove my sleep so much.

6.45 a.m. – Mel:Anyone?

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