Let me tell you how the week went and perhaps you will understand why. during the weekend of Sand, Sea and Spray - an extravaganza of all things 'Street Art' in Blackpool over the weekend, I barely had time to draw breath. At this point I must apologize to David Hirst and Robin Ross - I had said that I would help with the catering while the graffiti artists and crowd controllers were doing their thing. This week's theme 'Tomorrow Never Knows' is right on point: the best laid plans of this little mouse all turned to dust...
On Monday, two days after her baby due date, my darling daughter called me to say that between 8am and 2pm, her usually very active bump was not. I took her to the hospital by 3pm and once on the monitor, baby started kicking, obviously annoyed at the intrusion: All was well. Then the midwife, checked her diary and offered inducement the next morning. Delighted, my daughter and her partner celebrated the imminent arrival and I went on with my business. The next morning she went back to the hospital for the procedure,. Nothing happened overnight . The next day at around 4pm contractions began with a vengeance at 2.5 minute intervals. I left delivery suite at 2am to get some sleep and at 7am, when awoken by the telephone, expected an announcement: I didn't get one.
Within 30 minutes I was back at the hospital. The mood was different: Baby's heart rate was dipping, my daughter was exhausted, (but being incredibly brave), the attendant Registrar was close to tears but a decision was made quickly to get her into surgery for a caesarean section. It all sounds so normal somehow, that is unless you are talking about cutting an incision in your daughter; the best person you know; your most precious gift; your best friend. I can't tell you all the thoughts that went through my head as she was prepped for surgery, as Sam scrubbed up to go into theater with her, as she calmly asked for the operation to be screened because she sometimes faints at the sight of her own blood.
It was only twenty minutes until I heard my first grandchild belt out her first cry. It felt like a lifetime. They buzzed for the Consultant. He was Indian. We exchanged a little Hindi and he smiled as he went though the swinging doors and out of sight. Then the anaesthetist came out to tell me that baby is lovely and my daughter is fabulous. "Just routine then?" I asked as I shook his hand, "Yes, just routine," he replied. Half an hour later, the four of us were all together in recovery.
And now my own daughter will understand the depth of feelings that I have in every pore, every sinew, every moment of my being. As holds her own daughter Riley May in her arms - flesh of her flesh - she will really understand love, protectiveness and pain. I will be a laid -back Grandma: she will discover it all for herself because tomorrow never knows...
Post script and the reason for not helping at Sand, Sea and Spray this weekend . On Friday, while I was buzzing about getting thank you cards and doughnuts for the hospital staff, my lovely Mum fell in her bedroom and managed to split her head open. The top of her head, having been shaved, stitched, and glued has a crossed shaped scar and now that the bruising has deepened, resembles a well cooked baked potato. Her bedroom carpet and vanity unit had the appearance of an attempt at Graffiti Art but she is a tough old bird and with a lot of TLC will keep batting for her century.
All this unexpected trauma reminds me of a favorite Rod Stewart album from my early teens: Never a Dull Moment, as you can see, on the cover, he seems to be sitting around waiting for something ... ah hospitals, they bring us is and they check us out. Thank goodness that this weekend we just having a short trip. Here is a link to the Sand, Sea and Spray web site but I recommend that you get out around Blackpool to see the incredible artwork for yourself. http://www.sandseaandspray.co.uk/
Riley May
So here she is
your little lass,
soft and pink,
full of sass.
28th July 2016
Thanks for Reading. Adele
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