Expectation

by Anna Hope

You do not solve the problem or question of motherhood. You enter, at whatever risk, into its space.

“But that’s all she’s become. She has become a creature that is trying to have a child. And it’s not fucking working. Shouldn’t a child be conceived from love? And abandon? And good sex? Not a timetable. A spreadsheet. A graph.”

“Sometimes,” says Hannah, “I feel cursed. I don’t know why I should be cursed.” She is babbling now, gibberish. “I try and be good.”

The baby is lovely. The house is lovely. Jim and Hayley are lovely. It is exhausting, how lovely they all are. She can feel their compassion, their concern that this is all right for her: Hayley’s gentle, almost apologetic movements with her daughter. Their eyes on her when she takes the baby for a cuddle. Their collective in-breath, hoping Rosie won’t cry in her auntie’s arms.