To: Eight Months Pregnant Me

Cc: The Mother I Am   Bcc: The Mother I Wanted to Be

Subject: After the birth

Dear Versionist Me,

Yes. Well done. You’ve read the baby books. “What to Expect,” “How to Cope,” “First Time Parents.” They all look familiar, don’t they? Well, here’s my first tip – reading those books doesn’t mean a fraction of what you think when that baby does come along. I’ll get right into it, then, as emails are supposed to be kept brief.

• You aced your Lamaze class. Go you. Not that it meant shit when they cut you open in an emergency C-section.
• Dale is being super supportive to you right now. “You can do it, babe. You’re so strong.” Wait and see how long that lasts when sleep deprivation and mounds of nappies take hold. Not to mention the altered (crappier) sex.
• You swore you’d do the breastfeeding for the duration. No coffee or caffeine to interfere. “You’d learn to use Pilates as an alternative source of energy. Tap into ancient lines in your body…” Bullshit. Somebody get me another flat white asap.
• You had the name all picked out. Something unique – striking, enlightening. You settled on Summer for a girl and Quill for a boy. Well, that little baby boy face looked no more like a Quill than a highlighter. Ironic, since he sliced his way through your stomach… You’ll settle for Erik after Dale’s grandfather.
• That’s the thing–everything becomes so basic.
  • You’ll spend your evenings looking at pre-schools to pre-enrol him. PRE becomes a big word in your life. Only trumped by keeping him safe in the NOW.
  • You’ll high-five in silence when the baby sleeps and learn to heat soup in a pot instead of the microwave so as to not wake him. Dings and bings are forbidden. And store bought soup is the gold standard of nutrition.
  • You’ll learn to get yourself and Dale going at once because there isn’t time for the licks and worships of the past. God gave you two hands right? And the internet a super silent vibrator. Then you’ll shuffle into a spooning position that you never particularly liked because it’s the only one you’ve found that doesn’t put pressure on your C-section scar.
  • You’ll be thankful for the power of the super silent vibrator. They are to your sex life what soup is to your nutrition.
  • You’ll miss that job you couldn’t wait to leave. Spreadsheets beat dirty ones. So, you’ll renege on your vow to only use reusable diapers and go for disposable ones instead, fully aware that you are contributing to the world burning around you. Even better, you’ll invest in a fan for the apartment because keeping the baby and you comfortable – and the silence that brings – beats the possibility of the planet being around long enough for Erik to one day have grandchildren.
• Most importantly, somewhere in all this chaos, you’ll love your child – little Erik who was supposed to be Quill – with all your heart and depths of your body you didn’t know you had.
• You’ll somehow miss emails so much that you’ll start to doodle them.

SEND – (I could but who’d listen?)

Lee Eustace (him/his) is a writer and poet whose works have featured in Apricot Press, Free_The_Verse, Dipity Literary Magazine, Eunoia Review, TheNewVerseNews, and the London Wildlife Trust. His writings centre on themes of relationships, societal constructs, and the introspective. Lee is in the advanced stages of placing a debut novel and a feature length collection of poems for publication. To follow Lee’s work, please subscribe to his Instagram @creativeleestorytelling.