I'm a BIG sister. Rah, rah, rah!

Friday 27^th Feb.

There has to be a time in the early hours when you must never phone someone, ever. Even if it is to tell them amazingly good news, the time is wrong. When the ‘phone rings the iron hand of fear clutches your stomach and you know, instinctively, that the news is going to be terrible or worse!

I told my Dad this at 5.35am this morning. I berated him because he couldn’t even use the excuse of being in Australia and had got the time differences muddled up. He hung up! I couldn’t believe it! He rang me at 5.35 and then hung up because I had a go at him. I used redial and the number was engaged, when I put the phone back on the cradle it rang immediately.

His first words were, “You have a sister!” If he had started the last call with those words I wouldn’t have been annoyed. I am afraid I started to blub a little, I bounced up and down in bed and ruffled Laura’s hair, who turned and went, “….Wha…?”. I started to apologise profusely but he shut me up and said I had to listen to the details.

Chloe Amanda Marie, 7lbs, 6oz, born at about 3am this morning. Both Mother and baby are fit and well, it seems. She has a full head of hair already! The first thing she did when Dad picked her up was to be sick over his sweater! According to Dad she doesn’t look like a wrinkly old man but I have said we need to be there in the flesh to judge that. He told me to ring off and get my tablet and he’d Skype me live from the hospital.

We spent the next half an hour cooing at the baby, chatting with Louisa and generally getting all broody. Dad is right, or at least appears to be right; she doesn’t look like a wrinkly old man at all. I told him we were dropping everything and coming up pronto ballero. He said we ought to hang fire and check in at Uni first then buzz off at around lunch time. He was being given the ‘heave ho’ in a few minutes and was told he couldn’t return for at least 10 hours to give Louisa uninterrupted rest. She had been in labour for almost 24 hours and she was whacked out.

We were as excited as kids on Christmas morning when we rolled up to the pool and I showed Sarah the pictures of Chloe Dad had sent. She was delighted for us and Chloe and Dad and everyone. Because we were rather late arriving we decided to do half our usual lengths and then head off to buzz everyone else.

Dad had called Suze already. The girls were really pleased, I am not sure that Jeff was all that bothered. Suze did let slip that Dad was definitely thinking of taking the Curtin job. I quizzed her but she shushed me and said she hadn’t meant to tell anyone yet and I mustn’t blab (as if). He hadn’t called Phil who seemed rather less than overwhelmed by the news (I suppose he sees out inheritance being split four ways now instead of three, is that harsh? Probably, but probably true too!)

I then called Mum who was a bit stunned and subdued. I wasn’t really surprised. I suppose if you hear that your ex-husband has had a child with the younger wife he married you won’t really be impressed, will you? There was another reason for the subdued tone though, I distinctly heard a voice saying, “Is everything alright?” and then Mum shushing him. It sounded like Tony.

I told Mum what we were planning to do and she thought that was only natural. I told her that she mustn’t worry that I would love her any the less and she was still my MUM, Louisa was never going to take her place. I then asked if she and Tony would like our tickets for a play at the Crucible tonight, it’s a thing in the Studio called “Fleabag”. She ummed and I said, “Well, why not ask him?”

She went, “Oh…” but the sound stopped for a moment, as though she had covered the mouthpiece, she came back and said, “We’d love to. How, though?” I told her we’d call in at the box office on our way up to Cumbria and leave the tickets there to be collected. I also said I was going to want the low down on her, ahem, news too. She became all Assistant Head Teacher on me and said, “That is not going to happen, Young Lady.” Which told me, didn’t it?

I called Kaybers and a couple of other friends, including Mrs B. and then we whizzed off into work. It seemed to take ages until we hit noon and then, with Felice covering for me, we hit the road to The Lake District. Dad was at home when we arrived and looking stressed. He told us Louisa was a bit unwell and had a bleed. She was sorted now and fine but they were keeping her in over the weekend and only he was allowed tonight. They didn’t want to over excite her or tire her out unnecessarily. That was a bit of a blow, but we asked if he could use Skype in the hospital and he said he had before, so we asked if he could do that this evening and it would be like being there in person.

I rustled up a swift meal for us all and Dad zoomed across to the hospital. Louisa looked very, very pale but was cheerful enough. Dad showed us Chloe again and we had an inconsequential gossip with Louisa. Chloe had been her choice. She was definite she wanted that name – it sort of matches Cheryl (her daughter, who has been conspicuously absent from her life since she married Dad). Louisa had called Cheryl but the only encouragement she received were the words, “That’s nice!”  How horrible. I suppose the fact she went to live with her Dad after he and Louisa divorced speaks volumes, doesn’t it? It wasn’t as though Dad was responsible for the divorce either, she hadn’t even met him then!

I walked all the dogs so Dad could just come in and flop. I was surprised at how cold it was. Dry but bloody freezing. I should be aware of Cumbrian weather having been a temporary resident all my life but it still comes as a surprise that 120 miles can make such a difference.

Laura asked me, as we lay in bed, “Do you think we’ll be sexually active in our sixties?” I replied, “I bloody hope so. But if we aren’t let’s make some memories to fall back on…” So we did.

Saturday Feb 28^th.

I am a big sister! Rah rah rah!

It is wonderful and scary at the same time. Laura muttered that if we went out all-together people might assume that one of us two might be the parent. That made me laugh but then I realised she was being serious. Wouldn’t that be awful? Imagine, people coming up in front of Louisa & Dad and asking me (or Laura) what our baby was called? I resolved that if it ever happened I would cheerfully say, “She’s my miracle Kid sister!” That should solve any confusion.

We went along with Dad this morning and Louisa was looking a very pale colour. She was annoyed that she wouldn’t be coming home but Dad mollified her and assured her that they wanted to make sure she was 100% OK before letting her into the lunatic asylum in Tallentire.

Chloe Amanda Marie (I asked Dad if he realised her initials would be CAMS and he said he had and he wasn’t bothered. It wasn’t an unpleasant or rude acronym.) is lovely. I mean, she really is lovely. To be honest, she does look a little bit like an old wrinkly man but not as much as Sophie did. Knowing how Dad passes on a lot of information between us down to Phil I decided I had better not say that. I needn’t have worried, Laura said it for me! It actually made every one laugh. Dad said he wasn’t surprised as the paternal source material was hardy a photograph, was he?

She does have a full head of hair. Dark and fuzzy, it is really cute. She seemed quite a happy baby and was quite content to passed from hand to hand to be cooed over and fussed. 7lbs 6oz is actually quite tiny when you are holding the bundle of cuteness in your hand, but she looked absolutely perfect as I rocked her in my arms and played with her minute fingers. Her finger nails are just adorable. They are so little and precise. I was pleased she wasn’t sick on me, but Louisa said that christening Dad’s shirt was only a reaction to the pattern, she hasn’t done it since, which was a relief as bouncing her about in my arms seemed to bring a smile to her face, but I didn’t want it to bring anything else.

We were ushered out to give the new Mum and baby time to rest. We whizzed down into Whitehaven and had a fish supper (although it was only lunchtime) at Arrighi’s (that could be a complete mis-spelling. Back home we had a call from the hospital to say that Louisa was suffering from a PPH, which sounds horrendous and is, apparently relatively uncommon (under 5% of women have bleeds after the delivery). However, there is an increased risk with women over 40 and at 42 Louisa fits the bill. I won’t go into details but they had taken her in to theatre to make sure everything was OK. Dad rushed back to the hospital but made us stay where we were to answer the phone and (wo)man the fort. We wanted to come with him but he persuaded us that there was nothing we could do and Louisa would probably only want him to be fussing and worrying around her, not a whole gaggle of people.

I phone Mum, my fount of all wisdom about things gynaecological, and she assured me that if they had found it so quickly Louisa would be fine. I know it sounds silly but I was afraid she might die. I told Mum this and she was very sympathetic. We wandered off the subject of birth to the performance at the Crucible last night: “Fleabag”. Mum was shocked. It was really, really, really rude. I think as a shared experience with a new guy it might have been a make or break event. Tony wondered afterwards if this was the kind of thing I went to see often, and Mum had to defend me and the show saying that I went to everything from Shakespeare and ballet to ‘this’ and anyone who loved theatre was usually open minded. Good for her, I thought.

They did think it was very funny in places and the audience roared for lots of the show. As a one woman performance Mum thought the actress who delivered it was amazing. A bit quick and rushed in her delivery; was Mum’s only criticism. Tony, it appears, was gobsmacked but was prepared to go to something more conventional in the future. She did say that if she had read about the show in advance, she might not have gone to see it; although she found it funny and uncomfortable in about equal measure. She was able to extrapolate that the major theme of the play was grief and loss, in the case of Phoebe, it was the death of her best friend and her mother in quick succession. I did wonder if she might touch on how I reacted to Richard’s death but, luckily she didn’t. (Suze has sworn not to tell anyone about my attempted suicide and as far I know she has kept her word.)  

It did reinforce her view about pornography being a pervasive and possibly destructive in equal measure. She asked me if I had watched porn or had wild sexual encounters. I told her she had just over stepped the mark. I countered with, I would answer if she told me about her and Tony on Thursday night. That shut her up.

Dad called at about 7pm. Louisa was weak but stable and probably anaemic. The hospital had planned to release her on Sunday but were now going to keep her in for a few more days, it’s about her age, apparently. He rolled in about 9pm looking shattered. I made him some bacon butties and he showered and hit the charp almost immediately afterwards.

Laura and I walked the dogs together and snogged whilst sat on the bench at the top of Tall Hill road. I reflected on how our lives change without any warning and how lucky our society is to be so advanced. If Louisa had PPH during my favourite time in History, she’d have been dead by now! I spouted all this to Loll, who had her head resting against my bosom whilst I stroked her hair – she was fast asleep!

Sunday March 1^st

Dad whizzed off in the morning to the hospital and Laura and I went to her Mum’s for lunch. We brought Molly up to speed on the latest developments and she said she hoped everything would be OK and was looking forward to seeing the baby.

I showed her the pictures we’d taken on my phone which were duly cooed over. Even Eric seemed more amenable this lunchtime. Since I corrupted his daughter things have been tense (probably an overstatement really). He wasn’t sure that Loll doing another degree was a good idea but he did like the idea of her work at XXX & Y being extended so that her costs were almost covered. He is funny to read sometimes. When Loll and I were just friends he was like another version of Dad in his dealings with me, since we became lovers he has been conflicted. At times I feel it is like being in the same room with a dormant volcano.

We chatted to Louisa over Dad’s phone before we drove off back down to Sheffield. We had a 7pm concert at the Firth Hall – Trevor Pinnock playing several pieces, Bach (JS & CPE), Handel, Haydn and Bartok. The Bartok was a bit of a surprise and I am not sure I enjoyed it but the CPE Bach was a delight. I find him a much more melodious composer than JS. Mr Pinnock was brilliant though.

What a weekend we have just had. I could do with a holiday to recover from it. Just 19 days to go until we get one: rah, rah, rah!