You’ve probably forgotten all about what I am now calling “that incident where Harmie properly lost her wotsit on the train”. But you made a big difference to me.
You had the misfortune of being allocated a seat opposite us on the 15.17 from Birmingham New Street to Penzance. After shuffling into the carriage with a baby and enough bags to sink a small ship, I made a quick assessment of the situation. I admit to being hugely judgmental. I made a snapshot decision that the middle-aged lady next to you would understand if Harmie was unsettled, but that you might not.
It soon became apparent that Harmie had had enough of being sociable. She really wasn’t fussed who knew that she was thoroughly fed up. In fact, the whole carriage was soon in no doubt.
My earlier assumption that the lady next to you would be of some reassurance was quickly quashed. She avoided eye contact and remained deadpan. However, you smiled and attempted to engage with the now squirming bundle of noise on my lap. Harmie wasn’t going to be calmed by your waving or kind words, but you certainly made me feel less uncomfortable.
When the rumblings turned into inconsolable shrieking, I realised that I had nowhere to go. The train was packed and the aisle was full of passengers standing – an aisle full of people who now had front row seats to the plot being well and truly lost. As she ramped up another notch, I felt hot tears stinging my eyes.
Then you said that you had two girls and another baby on the way. You continued to smile. Continued to try to win over my not-so-joyous bundle of joy. You didn’t look at me as if I was failing as a mother; instead I saw empathy in your eyes. In that moment I felt that maybe I could get through this after all.
I still felt the hot creeping shame overwhelm me when the tweed-coated man began to clap in the two minutes that Harmie was catching her breath, ready for her next onslaught. But I didn’t feel so alone.
So thank you, for making an unbearable journey a little bit less so. For enabling me to have the courage to smile, shrug and apologise to the rest of the carriage as we finally made our hasty exit. Thank you for making me feel less alone. And for helping me to realise that, actually, we are all in this parenting club together.
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