Kitchen Sinks

"You humiliated me." Matilda lay in bed as she struggled to stay awake. Her body ached in way she couldn't imagine. This was the first time she'd ever given birth.

Her mother, Georgia sat in the rocking chair holding Elijah in her arms. He made soft noises as Georgia spoke to her grandson softly, humming a tune to the melody of a random pop song she'd heard in the taxi ride here.

Georgia continued to gently pat Elijah's back, keeping in time to the beat of Matilda's beeping heart monitor.

The hospital room was dark, curtains drawn and a lamp lit on the bedside table. Her husband, Eric lay fast asleep on the pull out couch.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Goodness, Tilly. I've only just got here, can we not?" Georgia sounded exasperated, looking at her daughter for a moment before resting her gaze back on her grandson.

"Can we not what?"

The sound of the heart rate monitor continued to fill the room. Matilda turned to her side, careful not to tug on the IV, as she faced her husband. She knew he was still awake, Eric usually snored like an angry truck driver, but now only soft breathing left his nostrils.

He must've heard their argument.

She wished she could talk to him about it, he always had something sensical to say. Matilda's mother wouldn't be here if it weren't for Eric encouraging it.

"Our kids deserve to know the people that raised their parents." He would say, to which Matilda replied,

"Raised? The only thing that woman ever taught me was how to not end up like her."

"What exactly did she end up like?"

"Mean. Bitter. Vengeful."

"That's funny. Because denying someone the chance to see their grandchild sounds pretty mean, bitter and vengeful to me."

With that Matilda realised that she wasn't making things any better. So here she was, lying in a hospital bed with her estranged mother holding the greatest thing to have ever happened to her. Her son.

Seeing how Georgia doted on him, all the gifts she brought, all the promises she made and kept over the last 9 months made Matilda angry, maybe even a little jealous.

"People change, Tilly. You say it all the time. You encourage forgiveness in your work. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just wonder why I'm the exception?"

Matilda's tears where falling across her nose bring, down her cheek and onto the pillow.

"Mothers are supposed to love their children."

"What makes you think I don't love you?"

Memories flooded into her mind. The arguments, the threatening orders, the scratches on her arms, the slap across her face when she came home that night and told her mother she'd been raped. Stripping her naked to comment on her body.

There is only one way anyone, even a mother, would treat someone the way she was treated.

"Because you didn't love yourself."

"No, I didn't."

Georgia's response came as a shock. Matilda tilted her head over her shoulder to make sure she'd heard that right.

"Don't look at me like that. I know! I know the things I did to you. And it kills me everyday that I can't take it back. That I can never get you back."

Elijah began wining, kicking his legs out, he made weird faces. Then the sound of him relieving himself filled the room.

They burst into fits of laughter, the seriousness of their conversation interrupted. Matilda sat up carefully, her legs still a bit numb from the fading effects of the epidural.

"I should change him." Matilda reached her arms out and Georgia walked over and carefully lay him on the bed in front of Matilda. Georgia then grabbed the diaper bag and pulled out a fresh diaper and baby wipes.

"I remember you always changing your brother and sister's diaper. You always wanted to feed them, burp them, bathe them." Georgia watched Matilda work so gently. She wasn't bothered at all by the sight of Elijah's dirty diaper, or the smells.

"I hated changing diapers. I couldn't stand it. If you didn't offer, I always got your dad to do it." Matilda heard the crack in her mother's voice as she mentioned her father. She could feel the emptiness of it, the void she carried echoed through her voice.

"You couldn't stand doing the dishes either. Always made me do it." Matilda leaned down and kissed her baby boy before she continued putting a clean diaper on him.

"That's right. I couldn't stand doing anything really. Even breathing felt like a chore."

Matilda clipped Elijah's onesie closed and tossed the diaper in the bin beside her bed. She lifted him up to her chest and began breastfeeding him.

"Do you know every time I stand at a kitchen sink to do the dishes or fill up a pot with water, I always tear up?"

Matilda had spend her 26 years trying to forgive her mother. Once she'd begun to forgive her, she began to understand her.

"Why?"

Georgia saw that Matilda's feet where sticking out from the bottom of the blankets. She walked over to her bed and pulled the stale and crispy hospital blanket over them, tucking her in gently before sitting down on the edge of the bed, resting her hands over her daughters feet. Matilda didn't say it, but that moment hurt her in the best way. Something she'd craved and desired all her childhood, she finally got in her adulthood.

Georgia would never know what it meant to Matilda. That small act of concern. A mothers concern. A mother doesn't want her child to get hurt, so we tell them to be careful. We don't want them to get lost, so we tell them to pay attention. When a child is hungry we feed them and when they're scared, we protect them.

It was strange to see it now. Matilda's feet where cold, but she could stretch down to pull the blanket down. She didn't want to ask Georgia for help, because she'd always felt like she couldn't. And yet, here she was, covering her child with warmth because she knew she felt cold.

"I'd cry because I was reminded of it all. I could see the picture clearly as I took a dirty place or a bowl and scrubbed it clean. I could clean without hearing your voice scream at me from behind. I realised where I was. I was free, in my own home, I was well and able to express myself the way I wanted to. I fought hard to be where I was, because of you. You made me into a fighter. And Eric, he made me into a lover again. I guess what I mean to say is that it's hard to admit that I am this way because of you. If I'm going to blame you for the bad, then I have to give you credit for the good." Matilda felt her throat closed up, she had to blink tightly, stop the tears from rolling out her eyes.

"Let me guess, Eric told you that?"

"Yes, I did." Eric mumbled, folding his arms across his chest as he rolled over to face them as they let out breathy laughs.

"And do you? Give me credit?" Georgia couldn't comprehend that her daughters compassion, her selflessness, her success, her happiness had anything to do with her. Maybe in doing everything wrong, she did something right. One thing. Tilly.

"I do."

For the first time since she'd arrive, Georgia felt welcomed in the room. She didn't feel out of place being able to sit on her daughters bed, keep her feet warm and talk. Really talk, about the things that brought her shame, guilt and constant unease.

It was only a moment, but it was more than she could ask for. After 3 years.

It was a start.