Another Birthday

Our son Jeff was born 51 years ago today in St. Andrews, Scotland.  The birth of one's children is always memorable but having your first child in another country was even more the adventure.  

We arrived in St. Andrews when I was four months along in my pregnancy.  We were determined to find a doctor who delivered babies because we felt uneasy about having a midwife in charge.  When the time actually came, I was already hospitalized for pre-eclampsia and I forgot to call our doctor.  So a very competent midwife was in charge along with a pupil midwife to assist.  There were no fees under the National Health Service.

I went to pre-natal classes but they were for women only.  I had a book for Jim to read and I reminded him to make sure he read it before the time came! Jim was present throughout labor and delivery.  I was very unhappy that I was told to go to the hospital before my due date for enforced rest.  I spent two nights in a ward of several women in my condition--all from the fishing villages near St. Andrews.  I was so lonely because I could not understand the dialect.  Finally, I was bold enough to ask the other women to speak slowly and I would understand. 

Fortunately I went into labor after two days of "rest" and Jeff arrived in the early evening after a day of labor in a room in which you could see the sea in the distance.   Jim borrowed our landlady's car so he could be with me in the maternity hospital, a converted mansion once owned by a beer magnate.  Part of our story was that he forgot to turn on the lights heading home on the country roads that night. 

I spent the next week in another ward with another eight women plus their infants in cots at the food of the beds.  There was very little sleep as a result with babies crying at all times of day and night.  At first my blood pressure dipped dangerously low and I was a bit faint.  The nurses took Jeff away and I was distraught but they were concerned I would drop him!  I began nursing and it went well.  In fact, a group of pupil midwives came by and I was praised for my efforts because it was not a common practice at that time.  I remember one cleaning lady coming by and saying to me, "Is your wee bairn greetin' you?"  Context helped with the translation! 

By the time we were released from the hospital I was exhausted.  The first eight hours we were home Jim had to comfort either his crying wife or his crying baby.  Plus there was a coal miners' strike and intermittent power outages--three hours of electricity and then three hours of no power.  We were warm enough in our "garden apartment" below street level but it was very dark in February in the far north of Scotland.  

We had to get a passport photo of Jeff which was not easy because he had to be awake and have his eyes open.  Jim took the train to Edinburgh to fill out the forms but had the wrong papers so a few weeks later, I claimed the adventure and we were able to get Jeff added to my passport.  

We were pretty stressed about caring for a newborn and really did not feel like all was well until my parents came to visit when Jeff was about six weeks old.  They acted like it was perfectly normal that he cried with what was probably colic.  They walked with him and comforted him--and for that matter, comforted us too! 

 My step-mother commented how clever we were to give him a name using our initials--J and M--Jeffrey Mark.  That was totally an unconscious choice but it was a good one.  That reminds me of another story.  We could not decide on a name and the due date was very soon.  We told ourselves we would go for a walk and not come back until we made a decision.  As it was a very cold and windy St. Andrews day, we walked along the north beach and decided quite quickly! 

So now, 51 years later we have moved to the town where Jeff and his family live and we could celebrate his birthday in person with a meal in a very nice restaurant.