032 - Chapter 32

(Illustrations: First pictures our new baby)

Bob was actually picking his dad up from a retirement ‘do’ at Backworth Miners' Welfare club, late one night, by car, when I realised our baby was on his way. It was July by then 1974 and we’d already moved into our new home.

A neighbour called Katheen, was with me, to keep me company, shortly after Bob had left the house; and we thought he was never going to come home!

I was in a mild panic, what was taking him so long?

There were no mobile phones in those days, and since he was travelling in a car, his dad’s car, there was no way we could alert him that our baby was on the way.

Eventually he returned, and took me straight into Willington Quay Maternity hospital.

I was overdue by eleven days, and at long last the moment had come.

Someone had told me days before, that if I drank some castor oil it would help the baby along. They also added that as long as I mixed the oil with squeezed orange juice it would go down easily and not be unpleasant. It wasn’t true, it tasted foul, and made me feel nauseous! 

My sister Joan was in Preston hospital, North Shields, with complications, six months into her pregnancy at the time, and I had been in early that evening to visit her. I had a low backache then, and she suggested that this might actually be the beginning of labour, but I wasn’t convinced, I still thought it was the effects of the castor oil.

Once Bob and I arrived at the maternity hospital, my contractions grew much stronger and more frequent. Bob kept reminding me, every so often, with a smile on his face, “Breathe, Sheila, breathe”, just as instructed by the NCT prenatal classes. But he said it one time too many, and I yelled, "Will you be quiet?" (or words to that effect.)

Off he went like a scalded cat as soon as the nurse came back, and she took over; besides it was not really the custom then for fathers to be present at the actual birth. Although he did ‘bravely’ attend the births of our next two children.

By 1.30 a.m. I knew something was wrong, I was bearing down, but nothing was happening. It wasn’t until later at 5.00 a.m. early on Saturday morning, July 6th that action was taken by staff, and I was transferred by ambulance to Preston hospital, with blue flashing lights.

I remember even now praying gently ‘in tongues’ to myself, all the way there. Praying like this kept me focussed and calm. I’m sure the ambulance medic thought I was delirious muttering to myself, but I needed to pray as I really thought my baby and I were going to die in that ambulance. I did remain calm, but I felt numb, and each time I bore down, it was unproductive.

Joan was already awake, she'd had an awareness that something was wrong with me; and as my ambulance entered the yard at Preston hospital, she just knew it was me. She said that she only got to sleep when she felt all was well with me! That’s discernment for you, and also sisterly affection!

The doctor who met us, remarked on how exhausted I looked. I was so weak. I was told that my baby’s head wasn't in the correct position; (it seems he was looking to see where he was going, rather than keep his head down) which made me think I was hurting him with so much pushing! It’s a wonder his little neck wasn’t broken by the time he was born! The doctor sounded annoyed to find I’d been bearing down for so long. A forceps delivery and episiotomy were decided upon, and with one final push, our son was born.

Oh the joy of being presented with a real live healthy baby, perfect in every way! Stephen John Hamil, our 8 lb bundle of joy. (Thankfully he didn’t weigh in at Bob’s dad’s birth weight of 14 lbs!) I just couldn’t stop gazing at him through his plastic crib by my bed, when the nurse brought him to me.

Bob had been awake all night, and his dad with him, and when, in the early morning, he phoned the hospital, the nurse said very briefly, “Come down now!”. So, he and his dad didn’t know what to expect when they arrived.

They walked into the ward just as the nurse was wheeling Stephen past, and she greeted Bob, apologising that his baby looked a bit worse for wear, as he hadn’t been cleaned up, but Bob took one look and replied, “He’ll do for me!” Bob phoned my mam straight away on the phone in the corridor, to let her know all was well.

Bob’s dad was relieved too. He hadn’t told us that one of his own friends, that same week, had had a grandchild who’d been born with a cleft palate, and he had worried in case ours would have one too. 

When Bob came to my bedside, he couldn’t believe how well I looked. I was so very happy; the ‘giving birth’ process and pain were quickly forgotten, and my joy and relief blotted out all the trauma.

I was sent back to Willington Quay maternity home from Preston hospital for recuperation, but I was so sad to leave Joan behind. We had enjoyed her one wheelchair visit to my room, but after that she wasn’t allowed out of her ward. She waved goodbye to me from the hospital window, as I left North Shields, and the nurse took a photo of Stephen for her.

At the maternity home breast feeding instruction and baby handling skills were taught to mothers before being allowed to take their babies home. In today’s world mothers seem to be turfed-out immediately after giving birth! Not so then.

The doctor told me a few days later that Stephen’s hips were dislocated! He had to wear a double nappy for a week, also that he was slightly jaundiced.

I had images of raising a lame, ‘yellow’ child, and burst into floods of tears in the bathroom on hearing this news, but then quite suddenly a peace descended upon me, and I just knew everything would be fine. And it was.

I was in a side ward with another girl who had also given birth, but she refused to hold her child all that week, as he was being adopted, and she didn’t want to get too attached to him. She was having to give him up, so a nurse saw to all his needs. But on the day the authorities were due to collect her baby, I entered our small ward room and found her holding her baby in her arms as I entered. She was nuzzling into him, and holding him close, knowing the baby was leaving her for good. She needed to say her goodbyes; so I went elsewhere, to give her space to spend time with him alone.

She loved him so much. It was so very sad.

Bob went off to a Wallsend Grammar School reunion. at the Civic Hall in Wallsend, that evening following Stephen’s birth, and as a new dad, he was so proud to hear WAB, the headmaster, announcing the good news to everyone there.

What I do remember about that week at the maternity home was the relief of a rubber life belt when you have stitches in strange places, and just how beneficial and pleasant a warm salt bath can be! And of course, I just couldn’t take my eyes off Stephen.

Anyone who doesn’t believe in miracles should just pause for a while to look closely at new born babies; their tiny hands and feet, the soft hair, their unique smell. New life suddenly appearing ‘out of nowhere’ is quite Incredible! Amazing!

Just over one week later, Joan and Alan’s baby daughter was born prematurely and lived only one day! They were both stricken over their loss.It was tragic news for the whole family.

Since this is a story personal to them, it’s not for me to share it here, but they did go on to have two lovely children in time, another daughter Joanne, and a son called Graham.

So much happened in the year 1974, the year Stephen was born.

Mam married Bob Bell, whose wife had died years before. They’d had no children, but now, all of a sudden, he had a large family, becoming father and grandfather as well as husband, the day they wed. 

He wasn’t a well man himself and suffered from bronchitis, but my mam took good care of him. They began planning holidays abroad together, and with friends. They also had a common love of dancing. Mam was delighted to become a grandma at last. She was fortunate living well into her nineties, the only one to meet every one of her grandchildren and her great grandchildren. 

Bob’s dad Jack, got married too, the following year, 1975 to a family friend, called Nancy Rush, a widow, who had one daughter and grandson herself, and she was exactly what dad needed at his time of life. She played bowls and was a great cook, and she too, became a devoted nana to our children. Harriet would have approved, for they had been friends.

Jack and Nancy shared many happy holidays abroad too, something that Harriet never got to do. Jack had worked long hours before he retired as Chief Engineer at the Rising Sun Colliery, Wallsend, but he and Harriet had still enjoyed many holidays in the UK.

Perhaps I can also mention here that there have been great coincidences to do with dates in our family. My father-in -law, Bob’s dad, Jack had the same birthday as my sister and I, Christmas Eve. My grandson Luke was born on the day that dad had died, 29th July. Mam died on the same day, 29th July, only in 2020, Dad in 1969!

My daughter, as I’ve just said, married a man who had been born on my dad's birthday, 1st December, whose name was also Alan!

Joan, my sister, shared with me even more family coincidences. Her granddaughter Eilidh was born on 28th February, the date nana died. Joanne, her daughter and husband David married on Nana’s birthday, 29th December. Joan’s other granddaughter, Annabel shares her birthday, 24th August, with Stephen and Dionne’s wedding anniversary, and Joan’s son Graham and his wife Catherine married on Jill’s birthday 15th July. Graham and Dionne share the same birthday, 30th March.

And now back to Bob, who wants me to add here, that he was born on the day Admiral Lord Nelson died! How about that?

Thank goodness his parents didn't name him Horatio!