A slice of life

I haven't posted on here for ages but I have been writing, I've joined a creative writing group.  I'm enjoying it, it's good to share ideas and helpful to gain feedback.  Here is a memoir I wrote last week.

It was the 2^nd August 2005.  James Blunts ‘You’re Beautiful’ was number one.  Beautiful is exactly what you were – all 7lb 7 ozs of you.                 

Seeing you for the first time led to a roller coaster of emotions.  At first I felt great resentment.  I had been in labour for 52 hours and following every man-made attempt to encourage your natural birth you were finally delivered via emergency caesarean section.  I couldn’t help but feel resentment.  You had offended my sense of pride and dignity.

Forty five minutes after you were born I got to hold you for the first time.

2nd August 2005

 

 As soon as Daddy placed you in my arms I was struck by a sudden wave of forgiveness.  The previous 53 hours immediately became excusable.  You were here, you were perfect and you were ours.  As I counted your fingers and toes I was amazed by how big your hands were…hands like Bampis I thought.  People often say that all new borns look like Winston Churchill but you didn’t – you had qualities in abundance that delighted my eyes.

It wasn’t long before Grandma had taken you off me.  As you led there, cradled in Grandmas arms, I felt a sudden sense of love and I knew that I would love you unreservedly, without any limitations and with immeasurable devotion for the rest of my life.

It was 1am, you took a good amount of milk from a bottle and we both slept until sunrise. 

 

3rd August 2005

 

Daddy was back first thing.  He couldn’t stay away.  I was a little confused when Daddy picked you up, kissed you, looked you in the eyes and quietly whispered “Good morning Jamie”.  I don’t remember having a discussion about your name other than 6 weeks previous when I really liked the name Max and Daddy hated it.  Apparently, I had agreed to naming you Jamie only minutes after you were born.  I was exhausted, completely drained and wiped out by my long labour and huge quantities of medication.  Quite frankly, Daddy could have named you Stripe or Spot and I wouldn’t have quibbled.  By mid-morning cards congratulating us on the birth of Jamie had started to arrive.  Daddy wasn’t backing down and you had even begun to look like a Jamie.  I left you with Daddy and went for a shower.

As I made my way back to the ward I had a sudden urge to take you home.  I didn’t want to share you with doctors and midwives.  In all honesty, I didn’t want to share you with our visitors either.  I wanted to go home, lock the door and enjoy our new existence as a family.

“You can go home tomorrow as long as you are able to walk the entire length of the corridor unaided” said the consultant.

“I’ll Jog” I said.

“Completely unnecessary Mrs Williams” he said.

Twenty four hours later Daddy came to take us home.  He placed you in your car seat.  We discussed how, even though you being in a car seat was the law, you didn’t appear safe.  Your miniature body, surrounded by big bulky seat, secured with a network of straps and buckles.

You looked extremely comfortable in your moses basket, fast asleep swaddled in the blanket that your great grandmother had knitted.  Locking the door didn’t work.  We had visitors after visitors after visitors.   Most were family and close friends which were fine.  Your extended family and our close friends have become very important people in your life.

No more than a week later we had settled into a routine.  You fed well, fortunately for us you slept very well and you were an extremely content little man.

12 months later, as we discover that I am pregnant with your sister, Shakira is number one with ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ and I can assure you that mine most definitely don’t and probably never will.

Jamie and Carys - 9th June 2012