My Endless Love

Many thanks to vivacious for the great header.

My Endless Love

By

Diana Ross and Lionel Richie – 1981.

It was early in 1981 and approximately only six months into our married life, that I suspected there may be a new addition to our little family before too long. Unlike many women, I’d never quite made my mind up whether I wanted children, but had a niggling feeling I’d deeply regret it if I didn’t. I was never one to drool over newborns or dream of a house full of small bodies, but in a way I was pleased when it was confirmed I would no longer have to make a conscious decision about becoming a mother.

I had a very easy and healthy pregnancy, with no morning sickness or problems. In fact, I think I felt healthier than at any other stage of my life, enabling me to continue working up until the end of the school year in July. I organised my last Netball tournament and tearfully left my class and colleagues clutching many gifts and cards for what I planned on being a maternity leave of six months.

Teaching would take a back seat as I entered this new phase of my life and focussed on preparations for the new arrival. An antenatal class is where I met Big Pam, expecting her third child and destined to become a lifelong friend. My days of bowling were also on hold, but I still went shopping with my Mum, gazing in awe and a certain amount of trepidation at all the items available for newborns. My experience with babies was practically zilch and I now realise nothing can fully prepare us for the parenting role. Like teaching, it’s an occupation where we constantly learn and make mistakes.

We spent a short holiday in Cornwall that summer, although the weather wasn’t up to much and my enormous bump limited my activities. I remember sitting outside later that July in sweltering sunshine watching the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana, already fearing she too was about to make a big mistake in her choice of partner.

A very wild and windy day at Land’s End with Louise and my bump.

Being virtually housebound, followed by the arrival of a baby meant there’d be little social life or reasons for any repeats of the act of jealous rage witnessed the previous year. It was a calm phase in our relationship, both of us anticipating the joy we hoped our new little one would bring to ourselves and our families.

It was a very strange and rather lonely feeling not to be returning to work for the new school year that September, but I occupied myself with decorating, handiwork and nappy changing practice on my favourite teddy. Those were the days of terry towelling and safety pins; something today’s parents gasp with horror about if we mention the subject. My baby, gender unknown, was due on September 19th so I pottered around at home as I waited…and waited…and waited.

By the 28th of the month the gynaecologist, who had suspected I may need a Caesarean section months earlier due to a small pelvis, big baby and various other reasons, declared now was the time and I was sent home to pack my bag for the operation the following day. I was petrified and not fully taking in the details opted for full anaesthetic rather than an epidural, something I’ve always regretted. I was new to this game and my vivid imagination threw up pictures of watching myself being cut open and hearing all the sounds of blood splattering. Of course, I now realise it’s nothing like that, but in my ignorance and with no one explaining properly, being unconscious during the whole procedure seemed preferable.

It was on the morning of the 29th when the surgeon asked me which gender I’d prefer and then jokingly offered to do a swap while I was still under if the baby wasn’t a boy. I didn’t really mind, but being low on males in the family and already having Louise, I think we both secretly wanted a boy. Our wish was granted and little Paul David arrived in the world at eleven that morning weighing just over eight pounds, although all I remember about it is coming round to acute pain and observing a row of baby eyes through my blurred vision.

Paul’s first day in the world, still sleepy from anaesthetic

It was to be a day and night of severe discomfort and agony, but after that a fairly rapid recovery and the new experiences of holding, feeding and dressing baby. I was allowed home after ten days which was a relief in many respects, but downright terrifying to think this small bundle was now my full responsibility.

Paul was a lovely baby; his only fault being his lack of interest in sleeping. But he rarely cried, was placid in temperament and fairly easy to care for. The problem I hadn’t anticipated was the sheer isolation and the loneliness of long days spent alone with a baby. David’s parents visited, my Mum came when she could, friends dropped by occasionally when they weren’t at work, but on the whole I was spending many hours on my own and only knowing a couple of other new mothers in the area, it was a rather lonesome and tiring time.

David helped out in the evenings and weekends, but had a lot of responsibility at work to deal with too. Louise was a calming influence and took to her little half-brother well. Her own mother had several more children at this stage, so Louise was probably more experienced at dealing with babies than I was.

Paul was always happy to spend time with big sister.

Paul not being the best of sleepers, it often required outings in the pram to ensure he dropped off. This wasn’t easy setting off from a bungalow at the bottom of a very steep hill and nowhere really to walk to. He’d often disappear completely under the covers as his pram was pushed up the very steep slope and he’d slide downwards inside it. Once at the top of the hill I’d sometimes sit in the small park there and read, but even this simple pleasure was thwarted as one of the worst winters in many years approached.

By December hard snow and ice lay on the ground and freezing temperatures sank lower and lower as the days went by. There was little chance of going far, but despite the difficulties, long hours and loneliness, I knew at the end of 1981, there was now a little soul in my life who would without doubt would always have my endless love.

Christmas with Nanny at my parent’s house. Strange to find myself in My Mum’s role now as Christmas approaches.