Keep You Safe: A tear-jerking and compelling story that will make you think from the international multi-million bestselling author

‘So let’s dive straight in. Your latest article… it’s already racked up hundreds of thousands of hits, has been retweeted a quarter of a million times, and has also been a major focus of discussion in some of the papers, including Gemma’s Daily Record – in short it has the place abuzz. Needless to say, Madeleine, you’ve hit a nerve.’

‘It would seem so.’

‘First, let’s just explain to any of our viewers who might not yet have come across your article… Madeleine suggests that maternity leave is – and these are your own words – “a patriarchal construct that disempowers women”. How on earth did you come to that conclusion?’

‘Well, like I said in my piece, Louise, maternity leave, this statutory practice of assigning care of the newborn solely to mothers for the first six months, sets up a lifelong family dynamic, whereby dads get to go off and carry on as normal, while poor sleep-deprived Mammy is at home meeting all of junior’s needs.’

‘Sleep-deprived, ha! Yes, we can all definitely relate to that bit.’ ‘But in reality this doesn’t just last for six months. Mum becomes the default carer all through life, the child’s go-to for everything whether she likes it or not, which means that she – not Dad – is always the one forsaking things to meet that responsibility.’

‘Anita, I see you shaking your head there. You don’t agree with Madeleine?’

‘Of course not. Maternity leave isn’t just about meeting the child’s practical needs; it’s scientifically proven that for the first few months parental proximity is essential for bonding and emotional development—’

‘But I’m not denying that at all, and actually by using the word parent you’ve hit the nail on the head. My beef is with the idea that it’s women who, by nature of the fact that parental leave is a statutory requirement for them only, are automatically expected to take on that role, whether they like it or not. Really, it’s akin to state-sponsored servitude.’

‘Well! Strong words…’

‘Servitude? Come on: a mother taking time off to look after her own child?’

‘But it’s far from time off, Anita – that’s my point. It’s a job in itself and a tough one, we all know that. During that time, we’re expected to go off, have our kids, hide away at home or at mother-and-baby coffee mornings, lose the baby weight, go back to work, and revert to behaving like normal childless adults again, as if nothing has changed.’

‘I definitely hear you there…’

‘But everything has. And not only that, but when we do rejoin the workforce after the leave period that default carer role persists. What father worries about leaving the office early to take his child to a dental appointment, or is made to feel guilty about taking a day off when junior is ill? It’s an automatic double standard that stems directly from the leave period. And I’m sure we can all agree that when men take a more active role in child-rearing, it’s all “Aww, isn’t he a great dad,” whereas for women it’s “For God’s sake, can’t she keep her personal life under control?”’

‘Oh yes, we’ve all heard that one. Claudine?’

‘I have to say I do tend to agree with Madeleine on the idea that mothers taking the lion’s share of responsibility does set up a default of sorts, but I take issue with the notion that it’s servitude, or anything like it. In my case, I loved being at home with my daughter for those first few months. And don’t forget, we’re natural nurturers, aren’t we? So it’s perfectly reasonable that we default to the role anyway.’

‘Madeleine? Claudine has a point; women are nurturers by nature.’

‘Well, some might be but certainly not all. I’ve written before about how out of my depth I was in the early days – hell, I’m still out of my depth most of the time. Should all mothers, irrespective of their capabilities, be assigned that role for life? And think about the other dynamic this whole thing sets in place – the notion that only Mum knows best, and Dad is a bumbling buffoon who can’t even get the basics right. I’ve heard countless friends tell me that they don’t “trust” their own husbands to look after the offspring, and again, it all stems from them being the ones who’ve done these things from the get-go.’

‘So, what’s your suggestion for remedying the situation, Madeleine? Surely you’re not advocating that both parents return to work and somehow juggle the childcare between them? Because in that case I’m almost certain that’s not in the child’s best interests—’

‘I’m not suggesting anything, Louise, all I am saying is that we need to look closer at what I think is a long-outdated and yes, completely patriarchal construct. Perhaps both parents should decide between them who goes out to work and who stays, but the important thing is that it’s not just poor Mammy who’s automatically expected to do so. It’s not just maternity leave, it’s maternity life.’

‘Gemma? You’ve been unusually silent this morning. Not maternity leave but maternity life. A headline worthy of your own newspaper if ever I heard one. Your thoughts?’

‘Well… my thoughts are that Madeleine here obviously knows a lot about racking up social media hits, but seems to know very little about the real world…’

‘Right, let’s leave it there. Lots of reaction from our viewers already and we’ll read out some of your social media responses and texts next. But in the meantime, grab a biscuit and join us after the break, when our panel will be discussing which of our female politicians tops the polls in the style stakes… See you then.’

As the show signed off, Madeleine took a quick check of her social media and watched the tweets pour in:

@MorningCoffeeShow Madeleine Cooper talking a lot of sense. More please. #refreshing

@MorningCoffeeShow LOVE @MadMumIE! #goMadeleine #maternitylife

@MorningCoffeeShow Think Madeleine Cooper is dead right in what she’s saying, and many dads would only love the opportunity to participate in their child’s early days – myself included. #niceone

@MorningCoffeeShow More @MadMumIE on your panel please! #loveher

@MorningCoffeeShow Madeleine Cooper is hilarious… not sure Gemma was too keen on her tho! #iflookscouldkill

@MorningCoffeeShow Hadn’t heard of this Madeleine Cooper person before this morning’s show. ’Maternity Life’ is a new one on me, but thought provoking all the same. #madmum

Madeleine Cooper @MadMumIE is a breath of fresh air – so genuine and down-to-earth. Love that mischievous smile.

Anyone see @MadMumIE on #MorningCoffee? Any idea where her lovely colourful top is from? #stylishmum

Maternity Life? @MadMumIE certainly lives up to her name, but no denying she makes for great TV. Gemma Moore on the other hand… #sanctimonious

Chapter 4 (#ulink_2122183b-e063-571c-8385-0bb635ac8063)

It was going to be one of those days. I kneaded my forehead as I stood at the nurses’ station at the end of the hallway on the third floor of the clinic. I could already feel a headache brewing behind my eyes – and the fluorescent lighting didn’t help.

‘You OK, Kate?’ asked Shelly, another nurse who worked on the wards with me.

‘Ah, just a bit of a sinus headache,’ I replied. I had horrible sinus problems that were always exacerbated by changes in the weather. On damp days like these, my head felt like it was about to explode. Nothing to do about it though except pop some Nurofen and get on with things. Certainly couldn’t stay at home and rest up – I had bills to pay.

The latest of which, I guessed, was also contributing to the headache. Only that morning, I’d learned that the car insurance on the Astra had almost doubled for this year – simply because it was an older model. And since I didn’t have the funds to upgrade, I would have to pay what amounted to a king’s ransom just to stay on the road. ‘Don’t mind me.’ I smiled, changing the subject. ‘I’d better check on Mrs Smyth in 304. She was complaining earlier about her back hurting – I’m worried that she’s been in that bed so long she might start getting bedsores.’

Shelly smiled and patted me on the shoulder. ‘You take it easy for a minute, I’ll do it.’ She headed off down the hallway, her shoes squeaking, and I was unaccountably grateful for great colleagues and a healthy work environment.

It would have been so easy (and perhaps even sensible) after Greg’s death for me and Rosie to pack up our lives and move back to my hometown in West Cork. But despite my parents’ insistence, I couldn’t do it – not least because in a largely rural area it would be nigh on impossible to pick up a part-time nursing position that would allow me to work around Rosie’s school times, but also because I wanted to retain some sense of day-to-day normality for my daughter.

Despite being newcomers, our little family had slowly but surely begun to make a life in Knockroe – Rosie had made friends in preschool who would also be attending Applewood, and I didn’t want to wrench every last piece of joy and stability from her life.

Granted a rented house wasn’t the best situation long-term, but our landlord – a former Knockroe native who now lived in the city – was fair about the rent and quick to respond to any maintenance issues. My colleagues and superiors at Glencree Clinic had also been invaluably sympathetic and helpful immediately after Greg’s death, so even though sometimes it might have been helpful to have family close by, all in all, the balance was tipped in favour of staying put.

And as Rosie had come on in leaps and bounds since she started school, and was almost back to the sunny, good-natured child she’d been before her father’s demise, I figured I’d made the right decision.

The Easter holidays were a case in point, where we’d had the loveliest time together during the break, and my daughter was the happiest I’d seen her in an age. We’d gone hiking in the woods, taken a trip to the zoo and spent one very memorable day at a dinosaur expo in the RDS, which, of course, was right up her street.

I smiled then, remembering Rosie’s eyes immediately light up at the sight of the dino exhibits area; life-sized renderings of all her favourite prehistoric beasts. She’d been rapt with excitement at the displays, and giggled uproariously when a mechanical Dilophosaurus flashed his frills and sprayed us both with water as we passed by.

We’d spent a full hour brushing sand and uncovering ‘lost bones’ in the archaeological dig, and I listened gobsmacked as my five-year-old argued robustly with one of the attendants about how the latest Jurassic Park movie had got so many details wrong about a monster I’d never even heard of, let alone could pronounce its name. Though the tickets for the exhibit had been costly, my daughter’s shining eyes and bouncy gait that day, and even for the rest of that week, meant it had been worth every penny.

I truly had my little girl back.

And now, as the worst seemed finally behind us, I was determined that we should have lots more enjoyable mother/daughter days to look forward to and, depending on finances, maybe even think about taking a real holiday next summer or the one after.

I checked the clock then and realised it was getting close to the end of my duty shift at two. It was nice to be finished early afternoon, but it wasn’t as if I didn’t have other ‘duties’ of sorts to attend to.

I took Rosie swimming on Wednesdays, and on Thursday nights she had ballet practice. So I knew that I would spend those evenings talking sequins and writing frighteningly big cheques alongside the other Knockroe mothers while my daughter practised her Grand Pliés.

Not that I minded, really (apart from the big cheques of course). It was about the only ‘girlie’ pursuit that Rosie enjoyed – and she was far more graceful than I had ever been at her age. It was just challenging having to play double duty all the time. Greg always used to make sure dinner was on the table no matter what time I got home, and I missed those days. I missed him.