Baby Steps Toward the Abyss - New English Review

by Robert Edgar (January 2019)

Elephant Celebes, Max Ernst, 1921

“Oh, I should think a bottle of wine lasts about a week”

“Is that between the two of you?”

“Oh yes, of course.”

You might be thinking that I’m writing about a recent visit to the doctor, perhaps registering with a new practice or even enduring a dental checkup but you would unfortunately be wrong. My wife and I have recently moved from London to a cottage in the Northumbrian countryside as she is expecting our first child and we felt a strong draw towards fresh air and privacy whilst we adapt to an enormous change of status. In short, to nest. To prepare. To become settled.

That unsettling question was one of several asked by some professional meddler whose job title was sufficiently meaningless to be instantly forgotten (Area Healthcare Support Manager?), but inflated enough to betray that here darkening our door was not a doctor, nurse or midwife. We had, in fact, been expecting a visit from one of the excellent midwives who have been looking after us superbly from the moment we arrived, but it was soon clear that this was to be an interrogation (confirmed by the words, “don’t worry, it’s not an interrogation”).

“How would you describe your childhood? What were your parents like growing up? Did they share parenting duties equally? None of this, ‘wait until your father gets home?’ I hope?” —asked with all the salivating expectancy of the predator stalking its prey.

“Do either of you smoke or use tobacco?” On learning that I switched some 3 years ago to a discreet electronic cigarette and have absolutely no intention of stopping, I was told only to use it outside. There’s no evidence of the vapour’s second-hand harm of course, “but it might ‘normalise’ the smoking process you see, and we wouldn’t want that would we?” —who is this ‘we?’

“I’m required to tell you about the benefits of breastfeeding. Better than formula of course, only a tiny percentage of women actually have a physical inability to breastfeed don’t cha know. There’s no scientific evidence for this, but anecdotally we know that the milk changes with every feed depending on what you eat” —as long as we know it ‘anecdotally,’ eh?

implication intended was that a lack of sleep could turn even the meekest, most doting dad into a raging infanticidal maniac, but I felt more than a little condescended to. Was it really necessary to produce a video (no doubt at some expense) explaining that an infant who is unable to support his own head would be unable to survive considerable physical violence? Again, the point of this escapes me. Surely, the sort of man capable of committing such an unspeakable crime on a defenseless baby is unlikely to be put off his wickedness by some hectoring film, while the rest of us wouldn’t be very likely to act on such a monstrous idea whether having watched it or not.

“It’s always the bloke isn’t it?” I said with a certain sardonicism which was clearly ill-appreciated.

“I know where you live now so I won’t have any trouble getting here for my next visit”—was it my imagination or did I detect a hint of menace?

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@NERIconoclast

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