Life with Laura

Laura's entry into our world was quite surreal. I should have clocked it then and there what the future held. Two weeks early and two attempts at entry by kicking in the wall of her amniotic sanctuary too high up to give a smooth entrance - only impact. Quite typical of things to come! Still I panicked that first evening. I called my poor husband back from a meeting miles away and dragged my neighbour Sandra round to look after Daniel. He was nineteen months old then and was slumbering peacefully upstairs blissfully unaware of the events to come. Excitedly we arrived at the maternity suite and after a few hours of investigation, watching and waiting we were sent packing….. Disappointed we drank tea and calmed down. Brandy would have hit the spot better but pregnancy had ruined my desire to enjoy the odd glass of anything. Still it had enhanced my desire for Cadbury's crème eggs - three before 11am in quick succession whilst lying prostrate on the sofa. Queasily I watched Daniel spin round and around on his beloved sit-on-car and this seemed fitting at the time. He was such an easy, happy, well-adjusted child. He loved to play with his toys, like setting up his zoo train set and bringing the animals to life.

Our world had always revolved around the fact that one day, when we could afford it, I would stop teaching for a few years and we would embark on a different journey. That's to say other than on Wednesday nights when we went to Chris's college to drink with his mates and play darts. Oh, and we repeated this event on Saturdays as well! I particularly needed this three year timetable of activity as I taught (no, rather crowd control!) at a Rotherham comprehensive and was loosing my sanity. Why didn't I see that my work colleagues of a similar twenty something age were in fact 'escapees' when they achieved motherhood and had a legitimate excuse to quit the rat-race? I was so naive then - but my maternal biological clock was not ticking. I'd have loved the collection and storage of 'baby things' (as I did later) but was too busy 'home making' and 'socialising' to fit in the life dependency of a helpless bundle - Chris was enough for me with his career change!

He finished college, got his first peripatetic music job, we moved to expensive Suffolk, increased the mortgage enormously and started a family. Bad timing money-wise (foolish even), but I was told my body clock was ticking and so I went for it! The collection began in earnest. What joy?

So here I am one child in tow and one desperate to join us. Wow! I do hope it is a girl as it has been mooted that we should go for a third if not…..........

Babe strikes out again - very restless now. April and May were exceptionally hot months for a beached whale! This time I am leaking (no going back now) - so we spring into action - evening time again! Poor Sandra is back on the sofa while Daniel sleeps unaware of the changing babysitting arrangements.

In hospital I'm panicked straight away because my 'trusted midwife' is not on duty until 8am….help! I am faced with Helga from Stalag 16 - shock, horror sets in and I'm ordering a retreat here and now!! But it's a no return situation. The waters have been broken (kicked in more like…) abnormally high up I'm told and that as it is 11pm nature will have to run its course during the night with inducement tomorrow if necessary. All to do with baby's safety and less staff on at night. Great! Now Chris, who is desperate for a sleep (isn't he always), is pleased to be sent home and will be called when needed (not tonight I cry inside). OH GOD - DON'T LEAVE ME WITH HER!

Now the maternity suite falls strangely quiet late at night and takes on an eerie feel. We discovered this as we 'snook in' via the back door at around 1am the night of Daniel's birth. I was giggling and jittering about from leg to leg and Chris was creased up loudly whispering “Ssssh”, that we thought we'd never find our way out of the damned maze of endless corridors to our destination. We were having so much fun (especially having seen the sign 'Delivery at Rear') that laughing hurt me as much as the worsening contractions. I had to hold the wall to steady myself and not a soul was around? It's the same again now and I feel uneasy left on my own. Need a plan!

Legs crossed is a good term to use here. Bugger me, at 4am Helga rouses me (as if - I've already got one squinty eye on the door waiting for her entry) and announces that a good scrub in the bath is always helpful for inducing labour. I'm terrified! I'm going to be naked in a silent, dimly lit, spooky wing in what seems to be a deserted building. Where is all the action attached to a maternity ward? WHERE IS EVERYONE? I don't believe that I'm sat here in the bath - door open - facing down a long corridor with all my womanly assets on show. You see, extended belly supporting hugely engorged breasts (38D - not bad from a lowly 32A!) nice but don't touch. Privacy please, but no I hear her coming. Loofah in hand she proceeds to try and beat the poor child out of me. Inside I am crying “Hang on in there little one - only three and a half hours to go 'till 8am." Helga fails and at last my ordeal is over and my wonderfully friendly midwife breezes in and laughs at my adventures with her.