January 1989
I was pregnant with my first child, Danielle.
The Lockerbie disaster had happened two weeks before and the memorial service was held at the beginning of January.
I remember what I was doing and where I was when the Lockerbie disaster hit the news. I was round at my friend Eirwen’s house. Her husband was out and mine was at work.
We were chatting and I was getting ready to waddle off back home. We both stopped chatting as the report came on.
The thing I remember most about that was someone (I don’t remember whether it was a man or a woman) said (something along the lines of):
I got off the plane at London. The plane was then going to America. On the flight to London, there was a cute little girl, maybe five years old. She chattered with me the whole flight and she was so excited to be going to America for Christmas. Now she’s gone. She didn’t deserve that.
Of course, being pregnant, my emotions and hormones were ALL OVER THE PLACE. I watched the news in silence and then I burst into tears.
Not me... Google Free images
What the hell kind of world was I bringing a child in to? What the HELL was I thinking?
I stayed at my friend’s until her husband came home and he walked me back to my house.
Then on January 8th, four days after the Lockerbie memorial service, the Kegworth disaster happened. A plane undershot the runway at the airport local to us (about 35 miles away) and hit the motorway embankment.
My emotions were going through the wringer!
Then protests about a book hit the news. The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie sent everyone mad.
I couldn’t help wondering how buying an author’s book, burning it and buying MORE to burn too was hurting him?
Buy my books just to burn them, PLEASE!
25th January, Trev’s birthday and John Cleese wins a libel case against The Daily Mirror because they’d written that he had become like his Basil Fawlty character.
February and Sky Television starts up, Home and Away (Australian soap) hits the UK to rival Neighbours I assume, and the Ayatollah Khomeini places a Fatwa on Salman Rushdie. IRA bombings and Soap-opera deaths hit the news and my pregnant belly is only getting bigger.
The first due-date I had was February 7th (my aunt’s birthday) and that came and went. As my pregnancy continued, scans etc moved the due-date on –time after time. I think I had three or four due-date estimates. The final one being April 7th (not bad, from February to April).
In March, two rail collisions and a diplomatic incident regarding Salman Rushdie’s book.
From Wiki
I know I have Foot-in-Mouth disease and I only open my mouth to change feet (it’s not a skill I cultivate, much as it seems like I do) but I haven’t caused an international diplomatic incident with my writing (yet).
And Nigel Mansell wins the Brazillian Grand Prix. Mansell also went on to Indie Car racing, to quite a bit of success too, if I remember correctly.
The highlight of my life occurs on 3rd April 1989 when our daughter makes her appearance.
In the hospital, I was put forward for using the ‘Family’ delivery room, because I was young, healthy, fit and low risk.
In that room, there were a lot of creature comforts, such as a radio.
It’s weird how our brain remembers things at the slightest hint. The smell of a rose can whisk us back to a summer we’d not thought of for decades, or the whiff of slightly hot motor oil and we’re back at the travelling fairground, being spun around on the rides.
The popular music of our childhood can bring forth wonderful and also tragic memories, usually summer, sometimes Christmas.
I don’t remember the tracks played on that radio, but I do recall everyone worrying because suddenly, things were no longer going as they should be. I was high on Pethidine and gas & air and a rock track came on the radio.
I instantly became distracted. I looked at the radio and said, “Ooh, I like this one.”
The midwife had wanted to switch the radio off just before that, but Trev said not to because I like rock music.
I remember a contraction arriving and Trev was holding my hand… bad move… but he knows that now. I crushed his hand and couldn’t let go. I kept apologising but still couldn’t let go. It was as though my head was completely compos mentis but my body was doing its own thing – a good job really, I hadn’t the first clue.
In times of great stress, your body will go into pure instinct mode and that’s what mine did that day – a number of times.
The surgeon came in to have a chat with me. There was no point talking to me, I didn’t even know what solar system I was in, let alone the planet I was on. ‘Away with the fairies’, as my grandmother would have said.
I looked at that poor surgeon, took in what he was wearing and said, “Green doesn’t suit you.”
I’m pretty sure he’s had worse observations about his medical clothing, but he looked at me, then at the midwife… I think that was when they made the comment, “If she keeps on like this, we’re going to have to stop the gas and air.”
I totally remember thinking, “Ooops, gotta calm down, don’t want them to take that off me! Nope, nope, nope.” Apparently they heard what I was saying, I didn’t THINK it, I said it out loud… and I clutched the mask tight in both hands too. Not quite so secretive as I remember, but… you know.
It took another few hours for my baby to be born and I’m NOT going to go into that… unless you want me to?
Let me know in the comments.