This week’s treat from Dispatches from New Motherhood is about the simple pleasure of a bike ride. In THE FIRST TIME, Aurélie Broeckerhoff writes about the joy of her wheels, and her heightened senses as she cycles through the city without distraction one summer evening, just a few months after giving birth.
‘I feel an occasional guilt that I don't feel any guilt about leaving the house without children,’ says Aurélie. ‘I may sometimes have said I do, because it felt appropriate, but I actually don't. I feel that I deserve it. Initially I assumed the kids would be ok without me (for a bit!), and now I like knowing that they are. I wanted to write about not just retaining a sense of independence in motherhood, but also really genuinely relishing it, however short lived. A catch up with a friend, a solitary bike ride or swim, an actual hot cup of tea in a quiet house - I feel that motherhood has shown me how precious such moments really are.’
Of Mothership, Aurélie says, ‘I joined Mothership Writers when Hannah was 1 or 2 weeks old. Apart from my school days, I had no experience in creative writing. But I have always loved writing, so I thought it'd be nice to give it a go. It was the one activity I committed to during mat leave number 2. With two kids at home now, days felt suddenly full. I loved the two hours of quiet every other week, usually with a sleeping Hannah, some cake, and a chance to follow my thoughts for a while.’
Enjoy Aurélie’s soul-lifting piece; it’s a testament to finding time to do the things that make you happy – and being guilt-free.
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The First Time
Aurélie Broeckerhoff
It is neither a long nor a pretty cycle. Our suburban streets aren’t exactly picturesque, you see. The boarded-up tool shop, the disused shoe factory (now a porn studio), a collection of overturned bins that contrasts with the neat rows of Victorian terraces east of the city centre. And here am I in one of those terraced streets, wheeling my sky-blue bike past our front door, down the three steep steps and onto the pavement. A bit nervous about sitting on a bike seat. Soon, it’ll be five months since I gave birth. Today, my first time on a bike, and my first evening out. I am leaving my house on my own. The sun is shining. I am beaming. Right in this moment, this bike ride is my hard-won time.
Pedal, pedal.
Near St George Park, I smell summer, a BBQ and the warm city air. I see an entire colour palette of front doors and floral shirts. Waiting for a green light, I hear kids’ voices and faint music through an open window of the small block of flats. Free-riding an ever so slight downhill at Gratitude Road feeling a gentle breeze against my cheeks, it strikes me that I am indeed grateful. Over the muffled sounds of this mellow evening, electric lines somewhere are making clanking noises that remind me of Buddhist temples. And for a brief, eternal moment, I feel completely free.
One of my favourite books as a teenager was about men in grey suits stealing time. Now that I have welcomed my own two tiny grey-suited time-thieves into my life, this bike ride is it: my turn to take some of that time back. In the novel, a turtle called Cassiopeia is the only being that can move while time has been stopped. As I pedal on, I remind myself of Cassiopeia, purposefully, philosophically defying the theft of time.
Before I became a mother, riding my bike was a practical part of my daily life. On a bad day, I would curse cycling in the city – dog poo, broken glass, fumes, too many cars, traffic lights, too many noises everywhere.
That was before children.
Now, in this one short and ordinary bike ride, I am releasing this Motherhood Me into the world. Even my legs remember what they are supposed to do. The slight tension in my under-used muscles feels like an old ally. My near-ecstatic appreciation of moving through my own volition – for myself and by myself – is propelling me. With each turn of the wheels, I am willingly melting into the world around me, carried away by this slow summer night. I pedal on. This is what post-partum freedom smells, looks, sounds and feels like.
Pedal, pedal. I am beaming from ear to ear. And the world is beaming back. A phone is ringing. I realise it’s mine. Brake. Stop. Babies crying. Time’s up. It was perfect while it lasted.
Until next time.
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The First Time by Aurélie Broeckerhoff appears in the Mothership Writers anthology Dispatches from New Motherhood. All 50 pieces from the book will be published here over the year to come, creating an online library of what it really means – right here, right now – to be a new mother.