The Selfish Mother

Photo by Seth Doyle on Unsplash

I turn on the tap. Close the door. Climb into the warm water of the bath. Silence, bliss, relax.

Seconds later my 3 year old bursts into through the door “Mummy, can I come in the bath with you?”. Then in the background I hear the baby crying. My husband comes through. His t-shirt has a wet patch. The baby is trying to chew his shoulder. “Should I get out?”, “Just stay in the bath” he says.

They leave, but don’t close the door. The cold air from the hallway travels through to me, along with the sound of the baby crying.

I try to close my eyes- and pretend I can’t hear it. I lather myself with soap and sink my head under the bathwater. Now I can’t hear anything, now I can relax. Imagine I am somewhere else, far away, somewhere beautiful.

The baby is crying more frantically. I find the shampoo and lather it into my hair. My heart feels cold.

She’s still crying. I carefully rinse my hair out. Then I pull the plug out and listen as the water starts to glug down. I get out of the bath and wrap the towel around me.

I go to the bedroom where the baby is now frantic.

I am still selfish and cold and look for some underwear and put on a t-shirt. Then finally I take the baby and put her to my breast- she gulps the milk instantly quiet.

I try and make up for my guilt during the day, try to hold her more, love her more.

The next day I have a bath again. I’ll get out faster if she cries I tell myself. But this time I can relax as the baby sleeps on my husband.