1970
Swept along through the flower power of the quirky 60s, Pete
and I ventured into a new decade, when Reckless and Restless went hand in hand.Lookiing back, I wonder if there was a sharp increase in the
population in the early 70s, because just about everybody I knew had a new baby
or was planning and/or trying for a family.
For the first year of
our marriage I worked as a district nurse, visiting the elderly frail who
needed help at home, but the constant car-sickness when I travelled in the back
of small cars up and down the hills in the historical inner city suburbs, where
most of the work was, became too much for me. Three nurses travelled in one
car, and I, as a junior, took the back seat and was dropped off with the second
in charge to sponge an elderly disabled person. The driver went on to do
something that required less time such as giving a diabetic injection,
strapping an ankle, or filling out a form.
I changed to work in a repatriation Hospital where there
were lots of young nursing sisters, (registered nurses,) around my age. Three
of us were young marrieds, naturally planning to have a family. Working there
meant working late evenings, early mornings, and night duty; but as the pay was
much better, I stayed for three years. Surprisingly, the first girl to get
pregnant had not been planning to have a family for quite some time, if ever.
She and her husband had a beautiful baby girl they called Kylie; and it wasn’t
very long before one of my other friends also became pregnant and gave birth to
a baby boy she called Peter.
Tina and I were the last two, waiting to get in the family way, as Pete’s mum
quaintly put it. Our first home was partly constructed. Tina and her husband
had bought/inherited a huge old wooden ‘Queenslander’ on the side of a
ridiculously steep hill in one of those inner-city suburbs. (The upside for
them was they had a fantastic view over the city, and in later years Tina would
sell that house for $2 million.)
“You look fantastic,” was the first comment I had when only
three months pregnant. “But poor Tina doesn’t look well – she’s so pale and
thin.”
Both our babies were due in the coming April of 1972. Scans
of the uterus were not performed routinely at that stage, but I wasn’t worried
about anything. I was ‘blooming,’ and everyone told me I was blooming!
At 17 weeks I woke up in the middle of one night and I knew
something was wrong. The bed felt wet and sticky and Peter snapped on the
light. We were appalled. I went to hospital in the ambulance and Pete followed
in the car.
Gratefully, I settled into crisp hospital sheets and went to
sleep, But, it wasn’t long before I was disturbing the rest on the ward with my
agonised groans from severe pain. Due to my doctor being the ex-superintendent
of a public maternity hospital, I had been admitted there, and it wasn’t long before
they transferred me to the labour ward. I was in mini labour to detach the tiny
placenta, but I didn’t think the pain was mini!
I had left my job at the hospital a few weeks before, and
having lost the baby, I regained my old job without a fuss.
One day one of the more sensitive wardsmen said to me, “Didn’t
you leave for a very special reason?”
My eyes welled up and I nodded before walking away. Tina
successfully gave birth to her beautiful Marnie in the April.
But my depression caused by our first miscarriage didn’t
last long because a second pregnancy followed and in September, only six months
after the original date, I gave birth to our first son.
What would we do with our lives if we didn’t have these little
hiccups and setbacks to teach us how to be strong,, I sometimes wonder.
And they do teach us to be strong!
No comments:
Post a Comment