Grant - 21 March 1972
Stephen was almost two years old and I thought it was time to add to the family. I tried without success for six months. At last, when my mind was on starting a new job, it happened. Pregnant at last, I then began to worry about what the birth would be like this time, after a very difficult first delivery. I hoped it would be a smaller baby, so that I could cope better. Again I had nausea, but after three months, it disappeared just as the text books state! At four-and-a-half months, I contracted german measles, which Stephen had caught at creche. My husband also had it and we were kept in quarantine in the residential hotel room where we were staying for a whole miserable week. Naturally, I worried about the baby, but my gynaecologist said I was not to give it another thought, the child would be perfectly alright as I was just over the dangerous period. I felt wonderfully healthy after that and carried much lower and smaller than I had with my first pregnancy.
However, when I was seven month's pregnant, I suddenly became very ill indeed. After a week of high fever and near delirium, I was taken to the Wilkins Fever Ward by ambulance. I was extremely ill and John Stegmann, our pastor, came and prayed for me in my isolation room. Though many tests were taken, it was never discovered exactly what the cause of my illness was. Just another tropical virus. The medical staff listened to the fetal heartbeat after getting me through my crisis and confirmed that all was miraculously well with the baby. After a few weeks I was allowed to return home with doctor's orders NOT to return to work.
The baby was due on 16 March, so I did not have long to wait. We moved from the hotel into our house at the beginning of March and waited anxiously for the baby's arrival. On 20 March, a Monday, I went for a check up with Mr Cameron, my gynaecologist. He asked how I was and I replied "Okay but getting very impatient". He had already told me at a previous visit that this baby would certainly not be another nine-pounder and I was in fact, really looking forward by now to the birth, as he had also told me that my labour would not be very long as the baby was extremely low.
During an examination, Mr Cameron loosened the baby's membranes, saying that should be all that was needed to put me into labour. He said that if nothing happened by the following morning, however, I was to go to the Lady Chancellor for an induction. After my appointment, I met my mother in town, who was rather concerned that I should be in town after having this minor procedure done, as I had been warned that labour could begin at any time. Nothing happened to disturb our tea together that afternoon, but at 6 pm at home, I had a show and my contractions began.
Deciding that a walk would do me good, I popped Stephen into his push-chair and walked several blocks to the shopping centre. this had the effect of making the contractions stronger, however, they had not yet become regular. I stayed up until 11 pm and then had to make the decision to get some sleep and perhaps have to rush to the maternity home a few hours later, or to leave then and take my time. Since Mr Cameron had said that as soon as I was sure that I was in labour, I was to go in, I decided on the latter. We reached the Lady Chancellor with Stephen fast asleep on the back seat of the car. I didn't wake him to say goodbye, just planted a kiss on his soft cheek. No children were permitted to visit at the Lady Chancellor Maternity Home. Then we bowed our heads and prayed for an easy labour and a safe birth before I went inside. After the forms had been filled in and goodbyes had been said, I was taken upstairs and given the usual preliminaries. This time there was no fear, as I knew exactly what to expect. The enema was still an anathema, however. After this my contractions came every ten minutes and became progressively stronger. The contractions had become regular at 1 am. I was settled into a west-facing room and told to get some sleep and to ring the bell if the waters broke. At about 3 am someone came quietly into my room and over to my bed. In the dark, something dropped with a clang and then I heard my gynaecologist apologising. He had obviously been to deliver a baby and had popped in to see how I was doing. He had dropped the horn to listen to the baby's heart beat. He playfully chided me for being awake at such an hour. I was anyway far too excited to sleep. After a hasty examination, he left mumbling something about going on from strength to strength.
By the time morning broke, my contractions were still ten minutes apart but becoming very strong and lasting much longer. I had to concentrate on my breathing. Nice and slow in deeply and out slowly. It worked like a charm. Early morning tea was brought in and I had to take quick sips between contractions, the maid holding my cup for me.
The sun was in the sky and I could see the top of a huge tree in the grounds outside. It was very relaxing to be able to see out of the window and I actually managed some self-hypnosis looking at the form of the tree, but after a while the contractions became so strong that I asked for something for pain which on admittance, like so many other mother, I had stated I did not want as I wanted to be in full control of myself. The sister examined me and said I could not have anything yet, until the dilation had progressed more as the drug could cause labour to stop.
Memories of the first bith came flooding back to me and I felt panic rise up inside me. I breathed too quickly and soon my entire body became a mass of pins and needles. I rang the bell and explained what was happening. The sister said that I had taken in too much oxygen by breathing so rapidly. After she left, I became afraid to breathe in too much oxygen again and as a result started having difficulty with the ever-strengthening contractions and began to groan. The day staff were just beginning to take over from the night duty sisters when one of the day sisters appeard at my door. She was not unknown to me. She was the sister who had been so nasty to me when I had been in labour with my first child. "Stop that noise!" she shouted, angrily. "There's a sixteen year old across the way and if she hears you, you'll frighten her to death." Reflecting on the past, I remembered how she had not cared about me when I was a little older at seventeen and having such a rough time.
The night sister popped in to say goodbye and held my hand. I told her that I could relax no longer, that everything was going wrong. She told me that this was a good sign - it meant that I was passing into the next stage of labour and was called 'transition'. Oh yes, I remember I had read about it. She assured me that I was doing fine and stayed with me while I had the next contraction, which lifted my abdomen like a bread loaf to her amusement. She helped me through it and afterwards I told her that I was very frightened of yelling. She replied "This is YOUR baby and if you want to yell then you yell as loud as you like!". I was sorry to see her go, but before she left, she gave me an injection for pain and it seemed fairly soon after, that an Asian sister came to examine me and said "Come dear, I'm going to take you to the room where your baby will be born".
We walked along the corridor, she supporting me with one arm. On the way, we had to stop while I had a strong contraction and after it was over, we laughed about it and I told her to hurry "Let's get to that delivery room before I have the baby in the corridor!"
I was settled on the delivery bed and handed the gas to use. Soon, Mr Cameron arrived, examined me and said to the sister "There's still a rim all round, I'll be in the corridor if you need me". I had no idea what he meant. I was left completely alone in the delivery room, without even an explanation.
Feeling the urge to bear down and having no idea of what was happening, I yelled desperately "Will someone please tell me whether to push or not!" After my first birthing experience, this was like having a first baby. A sister appeared at once. "NO, you will NOT push until we tell you that you can push" she said indignantly and added "If you must YELL, yell into THIS!" and she thrust the gas mask onto my face. If I think back to how childbirth was then to how it is now I can only say that there was not much compassion shown in the days before epidurals had arrived. Having a baby was like a test of stamina and keeping a stiff upper lip.
After what seemed like ages and yet could only have been minutes, Mr Cameron appeared once more and after scrubbing up, he encouraged me to push for all I was worth. I did it all in my throat! I was told how to go about it. I just couldn't seem to get it right and began complaining bitterly. Mr Cameron gently said "Stop fussing dear, your baby's head is here already and its looking up at you". I heard a tiny rubbery sound, which was my baby's first cry and I was helped up to see the little face, though I could not see it fully for all that was still inside me. It was so exciting and it was enough to encourage me to bear down a few more times and soon the entire baby was delivered, bringing instantaneous relief from pain. Mr Cameron held him up by his thighs, upside down, and handed him to the sister. "A big boy!" he said and at that moment, I could indeed see that it was a boy! He cried in protest as the cord was severed and his name tapes sewn onto his ankle and wrist, then after he was shown to me (we were not allowed to hold our babies right away), he was placed into his sterile crib and promptly fell fast asleep as if nothing but his slumber had been disturbed.
In the meantime, the placenta was delivered and then the time came for stitching the episiotomy. "Now dear you won't feel a thing, just a little discomfort" Mr Cameron assured me and he began to work, convinced that I was numb from the birth, which I wasn't. "Ouch, I can, I can feel that!" I protested wildly. I wasn't in the mood for any more pain. The numbness from the birth had left me and he didn't give me any local anaesthetic. I was handed the gas mask rather unceremoniously and told to "take your mind off things". I didn't hesitate to use it as he stitched. How barbaric they could be in those days!
At last it was all over, I was given a glorious cup of tea and settled into a comfortable bed where I fell asleep immediately. Labour had lasted for 15 hours. My husband had been in a job interview at the time of the baby's birth, which was 9.15 am on 21 March - weight 8lb 5oz - over one and a half pounds lighter than his elder brother! My husband had phoned the Lady Chancellor at 10 am only to be told that I was still in early labour!! It wasn't until amost three hours after the baby's birth that he saw Grant.
Grant turned out to be a beautiful baby with fine features, but allergic to nearly everything, even baby milk and was in hospital no less than seven times before his first birthday with various illnesses and in fact, almost lost his life at 7 months of age when his body did not respond to the antibiotic he was given for pneumonia. Ultimately, he turned out to be as strong and as happy a child as his elder brother Stephen and they were great companions for one another.
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