Tale As Old As Wine

Twenty eight years ago Angel came to us when we had given up on the idea of having a child. My doctor told me I was so weak that I borderline infertility. Then, unexpectedly I was pregnant.

John and I got teary-eyed the moment our daughter said “I do”.

 

It had been twenty eight years since the night of baby diapers. That unforgettable night where I thought to myself : That’s it. John and I, we are over.

 

Twenty eight years ago Angel came to us when we had given up on the idea of having a child. My doctor told me I was so weak that I borderline infertility.

 

“Cheer up, honey. We can adopt a child. It would be lovely to get a black child and train him to be the next Usain Bolt,” John joked as he patted my back but I knew he was either as sad as me or sadder than me.

 

Then, unexpectedly, unbelievably, I was pregnant. It felt as if for nothing could go wrong in our lives.

 

How wrong I was. Life is not a fairytale and it will never be one. I was diagnosed with post pregnancy depression and that turned me into a monster. I shouted at John for not helping me with house chores even though he did everything and all I had to do was to sleep and eat. I cried louder than our newborn. The smell of baby care products makes me nauseous and more temperamental.

 

John tolerated with me.

 

“Pregnancy is tough, I know,” he hugged me in an assuring manner when I started crying again. “It takes time but you’ll be fine.”

 

One night, I got mad at him because I felt fat and ugly. It was all your fault, I said. You made me pregnant. If I was never pregnant, I would not end up looking so horrible.

 

Then I threw a piece of dirty baby diapers at his face. He removed it slowly, expression unreadable and walked out of our house, leaving me crying with Angel, thinking I had murdered my marriage.

 

John returned hours later and hugged me.

 

“I’m sorry,” I cried.

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay, dear. Bad times don’t last forever. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

 

“I thought you’ve abandoned me. I thought you don’t love me anymore. I thought you hate me.”

 

He pinched my face and chuckled.

 

“You know I’ll never do that, darling. I just went out to get this,” he pointed at the wine bottles on table. “This one - high in tannins. This - highly acidic. This baby here - low in alcohol level and this one here has high residual sugar.”

 

I looked at him questioningly.

 

“You and I, we’re like these wines,” he hugged me and whispered. “Initially it would be bitter, but as time passes, things will get better.”

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you to struggle on your own,” he said as he kissed my forehead and gently wiped away my tears with his fingers.

 

*

 

“Let’s open that bottle of Luneau Papin Le L d'Or Muscadet?” I suggested to John as we clapped with other wedding guests.

 

“Hmm. But my tongue says Chateau Musar.”

Twenty eight years had passed and we were still aging as fine as our favourite wines.