Babies, Buses, Buggies and Delays: Part 2

As I became more confident, I went out more with Little Miss. The only problem was public transport and buggies do not make for a pleasurable experience. I relied on John to drive us to the supermarket – “We went shopping last week! What do you need now?!” I couldn’t rely on him to drive us anywhere else.

On a Sunday morning we’d get up to get ready for church. John and I had stayed with our separate churches when we got married – mainly because he wasn’t a fan of mine and I wasn’t a fan of his. We’d agreed we would visit the other at least once a month though which of course, never happened. But mine was on the way to his church so he would sometimes drop me and Little Miss off.

The morning looked like this:

John would get up, shower, turn on the tv; make his breakfast (cereal); sit in front of the tv for half an hour; iron his shirt; sit in front of the tv for another half an hour; suddenly decide he’s late and leave with or without me.

I would get up whilst he was in the shower and get Little Miss who was always awake at the crack of dawn. I would change her nappy and feed her, burp her, set her in her little bouncer whilst I went to shower. I would then decide on both her outfit and mine. If John was ironing, I’d asked him to do mine – he’d either refuse because he was sooo busy (see above) or make such a fuss about it that I’d tell him to forget it and do it myself.

After ironing I’d then ‘top and tail’ Little Miss (for the non-seasoned among you that’s just cleaning baby with a flannel or cotton wool rather than a full-on bath) and get her dressed. I’d get dressed, comb my hair, pack the baby bag with all the things she needed (which was a lot at that age) by which time John would be shouting at me to ‘hurry up’ or he was ‘leaving without us’. Suddenly, I was making him late to pick up his friend. Oh, the irony. He was always in a rush to pick up his friend to drop her to church but would happily leave his wife and child to get the bus…

Some Sunday’s, he didn’t go to church and I’d get ready as normal. I remember more than once it was pouring with rain and I’d ask him to give us a lift. John turned over in bed and said ‘nope.’ I pleaded. “Please, John. It’s pouring out there.”

“So! You’re not going to melt, are you?!” and he laughed as he turned away from me.

My eyes stung with tears, but I left.

One particular day, I stood in the rain for an hour – three buses came along, but they were packed, and I wasn’t allowed on with the buggy.

I stood in the rain – angry, hurt – alone.

This wasn’t what I’d imagined married life to be.