21 years ago, I was in the hospital, trying to get some sleep while having incredible back pains, the labour pains were nothing compared to the back pain. I knew my husband was in the waiting room, in the uncomfortable chairs, despite being told I wouldn't give birth tonight and to go on home. Cause that's the sort of person he was. 2 other women were in there with me. One had been admitted but her pains had stopped, she'd end up going home in the morning, the other was being monitored for problems. All I wanted to do was sleep but I couldn't. I wanted to go back home and sleep in my nice warm waterbed, but the hospital wanted me to stay in.
A nurse finally took pity on me and got me a hot water bottle which she put under my back, the pain eased immediately and I went to sleep. I found out in the morning she replaced it twice during the night to give me a chance to sleep, thank you whoever you were. Don came in first thing in the morning, looking worse than me, obviously those chairs were not for sleeping. We must of walked everywhere in the hospital, I'm pretty sure we even went into several storage areas. I couldn't eat or drink anything without wanting to throw it back up. And despite the fact my husband had a heart condition, he walked alongside me all day, never asking to rest for a bit, only stopping to grab himself some water.
The day dragged on and I watched women in labour going inside all day, we even saw one go in early in the morning and come back out that night, with a baby. I was so jealous. They all said that the more babies you have the shorter the labour, ha, my third was the longest. About 9pm I was finally taken down to the labour ward. Propped up with a bean bag, I kept telling them to take away, and gas they kept shoving over my face till finally I threw it at someone and said, stop it's making me sick and get this fucking bean bag out of here. Why is there always some idiot that says, now there's no need to swear dear. I tell you she's lucky she still had all her teeth.
About 10.30 Dale was finally born, one of the poor midwifes had bruising up her arm where I'd squeezed to hard. He was in his fathers arms, and I was lying there with tears streaming down my face. Don had a cold and he was holding his cough in as he cradled his son, the pressure turning his face red, but my heart was filled with love at the sight of him struggling. It would of been easy for him to hand him to me or one of the nurses so he could cough, but no he wouldn't give him up.
I was moved to a bed and Dale was whisked away to the nursery, so I could get some sleep. Don went home to make all the calls. The next day the girls arrived with their nana, and they too were rapt in him. Of course that wouldn't last cause we all know babies have a habit of growing up LOL. The next day we were home and surrounded by bloody Indians. The kind from India not the other ones. They were living with us while settling in after immigrating. I didn't need to do anything but feed Dale, they did everything for me, which was lovely but so damn boring I had to fake doctors appointments to get out of the house with him. We moved into our own home 2 weeks later with the Indians in a caravan out the back.
When Dale was 20 mths old his father died. He loved our son and my girls ferociously, but the one thing he wanted to do, see them grow up, he couldn't. We moved around a lot and the kids all grew up. As the youngest Dale was a bit spoiled, but his sisters also did the strangest things with him. They'd dress him up like a girl, paint his nails and make him play all the girly games. But he loved it. That was until he had to go to school and found out they'd been torturing him for years.
Dale hated school, used to make himself sick so he didn't have to go, or he'd spend the day in sick bay. Finally one teacher refused to let him go to sick bay, and we colluded against him so he had to stay at school. He finally gave up the fake sicknesses and found he actually had fun. Of course that all changes in high school, your not there to have fun your there to pick up girls and do all the things we hope they won't do, but deep in our hearts know they'll try. Our house was no longer filled with friends of the girls, now it was filled with friends of Dale. I felt like I actually had 10 children not 3 with the amount that would sleep over on the weekend. I'm pretty sure some of his mates slept over to catch a glimpse of his sisters, cause well they had boobs LOL.
Finally out into the working world and growing up at 16. That's 5 yrs ago now, and so much has changed and so much has stayed the same. Dale works out every week, watches what he eats, but he still knows how to party hard. He didn't want a big 21st, so it was just dinner with the family on Saturday night. He picked the place and didn't have to pay. His sisters and their families gave him a voucher for sky diving, something he has been wanting to do since his brother in law did it. I gave him his special photo album that they all got when they turned 21, and a concert ticket that he wanted badly. And me I got the pleasure of being with the family at the same time, sharing memories with photos and just thinking back over the years. It's amazing to me how memories resurface with the telling of a story or looking at a picture, looking at the girls holding him in hospital, or putting their hats on him and telling him to pose, I remember all the joy, all the love and all the sorrow.
No matter where Dales life takes him, no matter where mine takes me, we are family. I am proud of him and love him with all my heart. Happy Birthday Dale.
And now to embarrass him with a pic he hates, but I love.
And okay a couple he would approve of.
Catch ya's
Cathy
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