Read Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum Online
Authors: Vi Grim
Tags: #coming of age, #pregnancy, #emily taylor, #pregnancy and childbirth, #vi grim, #age 14 to adult, #the teenage mum, #young mum
Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum (10 page)
I thank her, give her a hug and
say goodbye, then Jesus takes her on her way.
Caroline and me go visiting. So it doesn't look like I have any
favourites, we visit Pollux first. Caroline has her father's dark
skin, thick black hair and green brown eyes. To start with, she's
scared of Pollux's huge round eyes but after he winks and smiles at
her, she looks at him, fascinated, then hides her head on my
breast. Cute or what?
the toilet. It's funny because the Americans can't use the word
toilet. They happily use the f-word but using the t-word is like
touching poo. They can't say toilet or pee or poo, ones or twos,
it's called elimination, just like happens to England in the early
rounds of the World Cup. Once we've sorted that out, there's some
good web pages. If you're carrying your baby around all the time,
like the third world people do, you become tuned-in enough to know
when your baby wants to pee or poo. After a few months, she has
much the same control as you or I do and wants to poo in her
knickers as much as you do, like not at all, it's horrible. The
trouble is, she can't get to the toilet so you use your noggin and
take her to the toilet when she wakes up or before you go to the
shops and watch for the signs in between. I might start with
nappies, and then when we get in tune, eliminate them.
Florence was here, my milk started to flow, little Caroline had a
strict routine and by getting my head down between feeds, I got
enough sleep. Within a few days of her leaving I'm a jabbering
wreck with my eyeballs hanging out. Caroline cries all the time and
sucks my nipples raw trying to get a bit of comfort. I don't want
to call Dr Florence back; I want to do this myself. Castor and
Pollux offer no end of advice, all of it probably good, but I'm too
frazzled to take any notice.
Christmas and the New Year slip
by in a daze.
I try to remind myself why I
wanted this baby. Why would anyone want to have a baby?
in the back bedroom and sleep out on the sofa under the stars. Even
with two duvets it's chilly, but both of us get some sleep and are
not so grumpy with each other. Dr Florence pays a visit to check up
on us. She checks on me first then the baby, weighing and measuring
her and carefully writing the figures in my diary. She says that
the first baby is tricky. Child rearing is the most important skill
in a woman's life and they don't teach it at school. You've got to
get to know whether they need a cuddle or a bit of space, and
recognise all the different cries and be able to tell the
difference between them; I'm bored, I'm hungry, I want love, pick
me up, put me down, I'm tired, I need to go to the toilet and,
you've stuck that safety pin through my leg!
It's not as simple as that,
like what say she's tired and hungry and filled her nappy and has a
nasty rash that's hurting?
hang of it. I start to enjoy being a mum.
raising an eyebrow at the colour of my gorgeous baby
'Immaculate conception,' I say
firmly.
'Piffle,' he says, giving me a
wink.
fifteenth birthday.
'Zeus,' I say, going to give
him a hug. 'It's lovely to see you.'
He grunts and pushes me
away.
'There's something wrong, he
says.' Everything seems okay on Earth. Petra has The Book, good
things are happening. There's no news, that's good news. But
something's wrong, there's a storm coming. It's Hades. I can feel
it.'
He looks me in the eye. Usually
bright, his eyes are dull and lifeless.
'Em, keep an eye on Earth for
me.'
'I will.'
Bing!
second name Nwella, it's just more her. It quickly becomes Nelly or
Nel; depending on what mischief she's up to.
We get along really well for a
while, then fall out. She's happy during the day but cries and
cries at night. She has diarrhoea, she throws up, she has nappy
rash and she's gone all spotty. She won't let me sleep. Even if I
lie on the sofa outside I can still hear her. She's real distressed
and I don't know what to do. The Christians and the do-gooders are
right; fifteen year olds are not emotionally mature enough to have
babies. I carry her around for hours trying to comfort her, then
toss her out the window.
always wanted to hold a baby.'
He's gone all gooey. I tease
him, 'I can see you yellow bits!'
'Piffle!'
'Thanks for saving her.' I say,
giving him a big kiss.
seconds later, Azziz and Dr Florence.
She looks a bit startled to see
the big yellow slug.
She's easily startled. I
make her a sweet cup of tea and add a splash of
whiskey.
'Oooh, that warms the cockles,'
she says, after she's had a sip.
While she's drinking it, I run
out to the garden and pick a couple of lettuces from the green
house.
I wash the dirt off and give
them to Pollux. While he's munching, I gently lift Nelly from his
coils. She's so slippery I can hardly hold her.
Dr Florence weighs and measures
Nel and inspects her all over.
'She looks good. We'll put some
cream on the nappy rash. You'll get to know when she needs her
nappy changing. I'm not sure about the spots, have you been feeding
her anything?'
'No, only breast milk.'
'Strange'
'Too much chocolate,' whispers
Castor. 'You are eating too much chocolate.'
I smile and raise my eyes to
the heavens.
Dr Florence. 'Most people have backup. Apart from throwing her out
the window, you're doing a great job. Just call for help. A
governess would be best. Mary Poppins is good, I can't recommend
her enough.'
Florence.
'The singer, Janice
Joplin.'
'Never heard of her, but I'm
sure she'd be fine.'
Janice, she's wild and wacky, and she doesn't give a monkey's about
being proper or correct.
She comes over all gooey when
she sees Nelly and vanishes back off to Zwingly, arriving back with
a lovely Moses basket for her to live in.
I forgive her the flab around my middle and the sleepless
nights.
Janice sings to her and I go
for long walks by myself in the wind and the rain. Then Janice gets
drunk, has a big argument with Azziz and stomps off back to
Zwingly. I hope she comes back sometime.
boobs have got twice as big. They were just right before, well
maybe they could have been a little bigger and firmer, but they
were okay. Now they're huge. If I don't contain them, they're going
to end up saggy, like Janice's and will be hanging down to my
ankles by the time I'm as old as her. I buy some super support
feeding bras when I visit Castor to chase up my order of baby
clothes.
one hundred percent on top of things, I am a little stressed. My
hair is falling out and my arm is bleeding from me scratching
it.
'Zen,' says Jesus. 'Why not
learn kung fu? It's spiritual without worshipping anyone. You
become at one with yourself and nature.'
'It sounds good but I don't
want to leave the asteroid.'
'Maybe he could come here. The
master doesn't really fit in on Zwingly and would be out of place
on Juno. A little hut in the mountains would be perfect. He's
completely Zen.'
I could do with a bit of Zen.
'Let's meet. What about on the mountain top, sunrise
tomorrow?'
clouds have other ideas. They're annoyed that I'm invading their
space in the middle of winter. It's blowing a blizzard.
Tat Moh walks out of the
swirling snow wearing a simple orange rope and flip flops. His head
is shaved apart from a small pigtail at the back. The Chinese age
so well that it's hard to tell how old he is, he's probably in his
sixties. Or is he Chinese, his dark eyes aren't slanty? They're
alert, yet wise and warm and humorous at the same time. He bows
politely. I'm not quite sure whether to bow or curtsy, so do a bit
of a mixture. I want to touch him, so offer him my hand. His
handshake his warm and firm with lots of positive energy. I nod to
him; he smiles back then turns and vanishes into the cloud, barely
leaving a trace in the fresh snow. He can stay; he's welcome on my
asteroid, we'll get on well.
standing outside my door. I don't know how long he's been there, he
hasn't knocked or anything. I open the front door to go out and are
nose to nose with Tat Moh.
'Why were you wearing flip
flops on the mountain top?' I ask him. 'Wouldn't bare feet be more
kung fu?'
'It was bloody freezing!'
'It was, I had my boots and two
pairs of socks on. Would you like to come in?'
'No.'
'Would you like to sit on the
sofa?'
'No.'
'Could I get you a cup of
tea?'
'No.'
'Well,' I say, running out of
ideas, 'Welcome to Camillo.'
'Thank you,' he says bowing
politely.
top of the bluff. It's my favourite place, where I go when I need
some space. It's high up above the sea and I like to think I have
lofty thoughts when I'm perched there. Jesus comes too. He's been
doing kung fu for years. He tells me a little about the Master. Tat
Wah is an Indian Prince born in 493. That's like ages ago. He
became a Buddhist monk and travelled to China where he spent nine
years in a cave figuring out kung fu. He then taught the monks to
defend themselves against bandits and pirates. Later he returned to
be ruler of India. Now he hangs out here on Camillo. Cool.
I want to get a sweat up and get rid of my flabby tummy. Tat has us
sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bluff thinking blank
thoughts. It's tricky to relax because I've left Nelly asleep at
home. The slugs said that they'll keep an eye on her but she has
never been alone before; she could be abducted by aliens or
anything. While Tat is hovering just above the ground I'm worrying
about nappy rash and colic and wondering if she's missing
me.
The next time I bring her
along and she watches from her basket. She gets bored and goes to
sleep because we're doing nothing. After a week of doing nothing we
move on to slow exercises. Sometimes we don't move at all. I'm sore
all over, every muscle aches and complains, I never imaged that
doing nothing could be so painful.
After a few weeks it all starts
to make sense and fall into place. I do the exercises whenever I
have a chance, like standing on one leg while I peel the potatoes
or trying to clean the bathroom standing on my head. I start to Zen
out a bit too.
think she's picking up kung fu as well. She hangs on to my finger
so tight that I can pick her up. She doesn't fall off for ages.
Pollux tells me off because she's too little for the rough and
tumble stuff.
fu and I teach him to cook magic melting moments and how to
teleport. He takes up surfing, hangs out in Azziz's cafe and makes
a great babysitter. He even keeps his Zen when Nelly pees on him.
They make a sight together, with my little naked brown baby wrapped
up in the Kung Fu Master's orange robes. I draw a picture of them
and stick it on the wall.
say goodbye, then Jesus takes her on her way.
Caroline and me go visiting. So it doesn't look like I have any
favourites, we visit Pollux first. Caroline has her father's dark
skin, thick black hair and green brown eyes. To start with, she's
scared of Pollux's huge round eyes but after he winks and smiles at
her, she looks at him, fascinated, then hides her head on my
breast. Cute or what?
Next we visit
Castor. Using his
radar,
backed up with a bit of Internet browsing, we look at how people in
different countries bring up their kids. At one extreme are the
French who take the babies from their mums almost at birth and
institutionalise them in
crèches
.
At
the other end of the scale are remote tribes and islanders,
still living much as they always have. While a few mums and babies
die during childbirth, only the strong survive and they're looked
after by everyone; their mums, the extended family and neighbours.
Those babies are the happiest, they're not trapped in cots, prams
or car seats but are carried everywhere, getting constant warmth,
love and attention.
the toilet. It's funny because the Americans can't use the word
toilet. They happily use the f-word but using the t-word is like
touching poo. They can't say toilet or pee or poo, ones or twos,
it's called elimination, just like happens to England in the early
rounds of the World Cup. Once we've sorted that out, there's some
good web pages. If you're carrying your baby around all the time,
like the third world people do, you become tuned-in enough to know
when your baby wants to pee or poo. After a few months, she has
much the same control as you or I do and wants to poo in her
knickers as much as you do, like not at all, it's horrible. The
trouble is, she can't get to the toilet so you use your noggin and
take her to the toilet when she wakes up or before you go to the
shops and watch for the signs in between. I might start with
nappies, and then when we get in tune, eliminate them.
Florence was here, my milk started to flow, little Caroline had a
strict routine and by getting my head down between feeds, I got
enough sleep. Within a few days of her leaving I'm a jabbering
wreck with my eyeballs hanging out. Caroline cries all the time and
sucks my nipples raw trying to get a bit of comfort. I don't want
to call Dr Florence back; I want to do this myself. Castor and
Pollux offer no end of advice, all of it probably good, but I'm too
frazzled to take any notice.
Christmas and the New Year slip
by in a daze.
I try to remind myself why I
wanted this baby. Why would anyone want to have a baby?
in the back bedroom and sleep out on the sofa under the stars. Even
with two duvets it's chilly, but both of us get some sleep and are
not so grumpy with each other. Dr Florence pays a visit to check up
on us. She checks on me first then the baby, weighing and measuring
her and carefully writing the figures in my diary. She says that
the first baby is tricky. Child rearing is the most important skill
in a woman's life and they don't teach it at school. You've got to
get to know whether they need a cuddle or a bit of space, and
recognise all the different cries and be able to tell the
difference between them; I'm bored, I'm hungry, I want love, pick
me up, put me down, I'm tired, I need to go to the toilet and,
you've stuck that safety pin through my leg!
It's not as simple as that,
like what say she's tired and hungry and filled her nappy and has a
nasty rash that's hurting?
hang of it. I start to enjoy being a mum.
raising an eyebrow at the colour of my gorgeous baby
'Immaculate conception,' I say
firmly.
'Piffle,' he says, giving me a
wink.
fifteenth birthday.
'Zeus,' I say, going to give
him a hug. 'It's lovely to see you.'
He grunts and pushes me
away.
'There's something wrong, he
says.' Everything seems okay on Earth. Petra has The Book, good
things are happening. There's no news, that's good news. But
something's wrong, there's a storm coming. It's Hades. I can feel
it.'
He looks me in the eye. Usually
bright, his eyes are dull and lifeless.
'Em, keep an eye on Earth for
me.'
'I will.'
Bing!
He's gone,
no
happy birthday
or nothing. I burst into tears. I
wanted to show him my baby. I guess he's still not
talking.
second name Nwella, it's just more her. It quickly becomes Nelly or
Nel; depending on what mischief she's up to.
We get along really well for a
while, then fall out. She's happy during the day but cries and
cries at night. She has diarrhoea, she throws up, she has nappy
rash and she's gone all spotty. She won't let me sleep. Even if I
lie on the sofa outside I can still hear her. She's real distressed
and I don't know what to do. The Christians and the do-gooders are
right; fifteen year olds are not emotionally mature enough to have
babies. I carry her around for hours trying to comfort her, then
toss her out the window.
Pollux is
there
, holding her coiled up
in the tip of his bright yellow tail. She's smiling at him. Her
first smile.
always wanted to hold a baby.'
He's gone all gooey. I tease
him, 'I can see you yellow bits!'
'Piffle!'
'Thanks for saving her.' I say,
giving him a big kiss.
seconds later, Azziz and Dr Florence.
She looks a bit startled to see
the big yellow slug.
She's easily startled. I
make her a sweet cup of tea and add a splash of
whiskey.
'Oooh, that warms the cockles,'
she says, after she's had a sip.
While she's drinking it, I run
out to the garden and pick a couple of lettuces from the green
house.
I wash the dirt off and give
them to Pollux. While he's munching, I gently lift Nelly from his
coils. She's so slippery I can hardly hold her.
Dr Florence weighs and measures
Nel and inspects her all over.
'She looks good. We'll put some
cream on the nappy rash. You'll get to know when she needs her
nappy changing. I'm not sure about the spots, have you been feeding
her anything?'
'No, only breast milk.'
'Strange'
'Too much chocolate,' whispers
Castor. 'You are eating too much chocolate.'
I smile and raise my eyes to
the heavens.
Dr Florence. 'Most people have backup. Apart from throwing her out
the window, you're doing a great job. Just call for help. A
governess would be best. Mary Poppins is good, I can't recommend
her enough.'
I couldn't
stand all that
chin-chinery
stuff.
'What about Janice?' I ask.
Florence.
'The singer, Janice
Joplin.'
'Never heard of her, but I'm
sure she'd be fine.'
Janice, she's wild and wacky, and she doesn't give a monkey's about
being proper or correct.
She comes over all gooey when
she sees Nelly and vanishes back off to Zwingly, arriving back with
a lovely Moses basket for her to live in.
Between us we
get things on track again. I cut back on chocolate and get tuned
into young Nel. I carry her around most of the time, in a sling at
my side. It's getting a whole lot easier. Rather than
WHAAAAGH!
which means, I'm hungry, tied, feed up and pooed my
nappy half an hour ago, I get
Wha...
I need to go to
the toilet, or
whaa...
feed me,
or
wawa
...play with me!
I forgive her the flab around my middle and the sleepless
nights.
Janice sings to her and I go
for long walks by myself in the wind and the rain. Then Janice gets
drunk, has a big argument with Azziz and stomps off back to
Zwingly. I hope she comes back sometime.
boobs have got twice as big. They were just right before, well
maybe they could have been a little bigger and firmer, but they
were okay. Now they're huge. If I don't contain them, they're going
to end up saggy, like Janice's and will be hanging down to my
ankles by the time I'm as old as her. I buy some super support
feeding bras when I visit Castor to chase up my order of baby
clothes.
one hundred percent on top of things, I am a little stressed. My
hair is falling out and my arm is bleeding from me scratching
it.
'Zen,' says Jesus. 'Why not
learn kung fu? It's spiritual without worshipping anyone. You
become at one with yourself and nature.'
'It sounds good but I don't
want to leave the asteroid.'
'Maybe he could come here. The
master doesn't really fit in on Zwingly and would be out of place
on Juno. A little hut in the mountains would be perfect. He's
completely Zen.'
I could do with a bit of Zen.
'Let's meet. What about on the mountain top, sunrise
tomorrow?'
clouds have other ideas. They're annoyed that I'm invading their
space in the middle of winter. It's blowing a blizzard.
Tat Moh walks out of the
swirling snow wearing a simple orange rope and flip flops. His head
is shaved apart from a small pigtail at the back. The Chinese age
so well that it's hard to tell how old he is, he's probably in his
sixties. Or is he Chinese, his dark eyes aren't slanty? They're
alert, yet wise and warm and humorous at the same time. He bows
politely. I'm not quite sure whether to bow or curtsy, so do a bit
of a mixture. I want to touch him, so offer him my hand. His
handshake his warm and firm with lots of positive energy. I nod to
him; he smiles back then turns and vanishes into the cloud, barely
leaving a trace in the fresh snow. He can stay; he's welcome on my
asteroid, we'll get on well.
standing outside my door. I don't know how long he's been there, he
hasn't knocked or anything. I open the front door to go out and are
nose to nose with Tat Moh.
'Why were you wearing flip
flops on the mountain top?' I ask him. 'Wouldn't bare feet be more
kung fu?'
'It was bloody freezing!'
'It was, I had my boots and two
pairs of socks on. Would you like to come in?'
'No.'
'Would you like to sit on the
sofa?'
'No.'
'Could I get you a cup of
tea?'
'No.'
'Well,' I say, running out of
ideas, 'Welcome to Camillo.'
'Thank you,' he says bowing
politely.
Castor gives me
the scoop about kung fu. We watch videos of people crushing rocks
into sand with their elbows and karate chopping bricks in half. It
might come in handy when I next need to split some firewood. We
watch
Kung Fu Panda 2
to get an idea what it's all
about.
top of the bluff. It's my favourite place, where I go when I need
some space. It's high up above the sea and I like to think I have
lofty thoughts when I'm perched there. Jesus comes too. He's been
doing kung fu for years. He tells me a little about the Master. Tat
Wah is an Indian Prince born in 493. That's like ages ago. He
became a Buddhist monk and travelled to China where he spent nine
years in a cave figuring out kung fu. He then taught the monks to
defend themselves against bandits and pirates. Later he returned to
be ruler of India. Now he hangs out here on Camillo. Cool.
I want to get a sweat up and get rid of my flabby tummy. Tat has us
sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bluff thinking blank
thoughts. It's tricky to relax because I've left Nelly asleep at
home. The slugs said that they'll keep an eye on her but she has
never been alone before; she could be abducted by aliens or
anything. While Tat is hovering just above the ground I'm worrying
about nappy rash and colic and wondering if she's missing
me.
The next time I bring her
along and she watches from her basket. She gets bored and goes to
sleep because we're doing nothing. After a week of doing nothing we
move on to slow exercises. Sometimes we don't move at all. I'm sore
all over, every muscle aches and complains, I never imaged that
doing nothing could be so painful.
After a few weeks it all starts
to make sense and fall into place. I do the exercises whenever I
have a chance, like standing on one leg while I peel the potatoes
or trying to clean the bathroom standing on my head. I start to Zen
out a bit too.
think she's picking up kung fu as well. She hangs on to my finger
so tight that I can pick her up. She doesn't fall off for ages.
Pollux tells me off because she's too little for the rough and
tumble stuff.
fu and I teach him to cook magic melting moments and how to
teleport. He takes up surfing, hangs out in Azziz's cafe and makes
a great babysitter. He even keeps his Zen when Nelly pees on him.
They make a sight together, with my little naked brown baby wrapped
up in the Kung Fu Master's orange robes. I draw a picture of them
and stick it on the wall.
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