The Long Way Home by Phillip Overton
Chapter 33
Epilogue: September 1990
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Prologue
March 1976
No one ever remembers being born. So why is it that when we see new life come into the world, we do so with a certain dream-like familiarity? As if trying to recall the exact moment we too left the comfort of our mother’s womb, limbs clawing at nothing, eyes squinting into the bright glare of the hospital lights and lungs gasping desperately for air. Ultimately to breathe, but more importantly to let out our first almighty scream, announcing to the world that we are here, we have arrived and are ready to spend the rest of our lives figuring out the meaning of our brief existence. But most of all we look cute.
Cute to the proud parents, to the doctors and midwives just another slimy, baggy skinned, gooey haired infant to clean up. While the poor mother who has just gone through six hours of gut wrenching labour, tries to gain some form of composure before being handed the reward of her pain and misery. The placenta follows, the doctor holds up the baby and proudly announces whether it’s a boy or girl and the umbilical cord is cut, severing ties completely with the world from which we just came. Our hearts beat a frantic swish-swish, seek the comforting sound of our mother’s heartbeat that we have grown accustomed to over the past nine months, and finding it, nestle in against our mother’s breast and begin our life cycle of eating and sleeping.
This is exactly what happened to Simon Small. He lay cradled gently in his mother’s arms, wrapped snugly in a cotton blanket, clean, dry and looking adorable. His little arms poked out from the top of the pure white linen, tiny fingers trying to grab it for no particular reason. He tried desperately to focus his deep brown eyes on the blurry shapes that came up close to his face, but his eyes simply couldn’t. Instead, he listened carefully for his mother’s heartbeat and felt safe when held near it.
Rowena Small held her baby close. She ached all over. Her legs still quivered and her long black hair clung to the perspiration on her pale face. The kid had taken all of her strength to push out and she was sure there was no way on earth that she was ever going to put herself through that much pain again. If Doug wanted to have another child, he was either going to have to do a lot of sweet-talking, or find another wife!
She wondered how he was doing in the waiting room. Probably smoking cigars with the other new fathers and patting each other on the back. When it came time to have a look at the baby through the glass window in the nursery, there’d be more congratulations, some boasting and the odd crotch scratch thrown in for good measure. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to have sex again for a very long time!
She looked down at the baby again who was now quiet. Poor thing, his first impression of the world would have been the doctors’ handprint on his bum. Perhaps some sweet revenge for all the pain he’d caused his mother during the delivery.
“How are you feeling now?” The doctor asked, half to her, half to the gauge as he checked her blood pressure.
“I’m better now that it’s over.” She lied before thinking quietly, ‘How would you like to pass a football out of your behind?’
“That’s good. I’ll leave you and the little one to get better acquainted, and the nurses will move you to your room sometime soon so you can get some rest.”
“Thanks doctor.”
“Oh, by the way,” he added. “Have you decided on a name Mrs Small?”
“Yes, Simon James.”
“Very well,” he replied as he wrote on an identification tag. “Simon James Small it is.” And with that, he gently latched the hospital name tag onto the baby boys’ wrist and strode out of the room.
Rowena looked down at little Simon. She liked the name, so did Doug. At least that hadn’t caused any arguments. It was just as well the little one wasn’t born a girl. There was no way she was going to name the child after Doug’s late mother Petula. For goodness sake this was the seventies, and besides, it was too soon after the funeral. It was sad the old lady wasn’t around to see her first grandchild, but naming the baby after her, and so soon after her death, was just creepy. However, it was a boy.
“Hello Simon,” she cooed, looking at his little screwed up face. “I’m your Mummy.”
The newborn looked back with innocent eyes, unable to focus on his mother but staring in her direction, obviously aware of his new surroundings. Engrossed, his little eyes were taking in the world for the first time with a special kind of wonderment. She kissed him softly on his forehead, a soft curl of brown hair tickling her nose. His little screwed up face reminded her of an old man, tongue darting in and out of a toothless mouth. She moved him in her lap, adjusting one of the pillows behind her back so that she was sitting upright in bed. She turned him around gently so that he was now facing her from half an arm’s length, hand carefully holding the back of his head. In the corridor outside the room a team of midwives hurried by, capturing her attention briefly. The hospital seemed busy even after midnight.
Poor Doug was probably starving by now. He had come home from work and found her in the kitchen, leaning hard on the kitchen bench while the pain from another contraction showed across her face. He had quickly turned off the stove, thrown her already packed back into the car and after helping her into the passenger seat, driven straight to the emergency ward at the hospital. She only hoped he had the sense to get something from the cafeteria downstairs before it closed. After all, he’d had nearly six hours to fill in. She, on the other hand, had nearly six hours of labour to help pass the time.
As she returned her absent stare from the corridor to her newborn baby, her eyes caught a quick glimpse of light reflecting off Simon’s eyes and her breath caught in her throat. Staring intently at his face she was transfixed by the sudden change that had come over him. From a little, screwed up face only moments ago, his face now appeared peaceful and smooth. It glowed radiantly, simply the purest, most beautiful baby face she had ever seen, and at first it had left her startled. He looked just like a little angel.
“Oh you gorgeous little boy,” she whispered to him, feeling emotionally overcome. Choking back tears, she brought his little nose up to hers. In doing so she saw the light dance across his eyes again, his beautiful deep brown eyes. She became aware that something had caught his attention. His gaping mouth and little half smile were the only means of responding to whatever it was. Getting the better of her she turned around, anxious now to see what had captivated her son in an otherwise empty room, just as the nurses entered.
“How is the new mother and baby doing?” The first nurse spoke up as she walked through the doorway and immediately came over to the bedside.
“Oh we’re good,” Rowena replied as she turned back around to face the nurse. She was a well built, middle aged woman starting to go gray on top, dressed in the usual white nurses’ uniform. The familiar one piece dress, flesh coloured pantyhose and flat, well worn black shoes. “I do feel tired however. It must be getting late.”
“Going on one o’clock and don’t I know it. I’m getting too old to be working late shifts. Only problem is, the hospital never sleeps. But you,” she paused, picking up the patient clipboard off the end of the bed to read the name. “Rowena Small should be getting some sleep.” She handed the clipboard to the second nurse who scanned over it quickly, and quietly put it back where it came from.
The smaller, second nurse looked much younger as she left the room and quickly returned wheeling a small baby crib. She parked it on the other side of the bed and proceeded to fuss over getting it ready for the baby. She was slim, probably late twenties Rowena guessed, with sandy blonde hair pulled tightly up to form a bun on her head. She didn’t appear talkative and seemed uninterested in smiling.
“Well now, we’re going to get you to your room Mrs Small and get you settled in nicely, so you can get some sleep tonight before all those visitors come by tomorrow with their flowers and chocolates.”
“Does my husband know yet?”
“
“Simon.”
“Look at his screwed up little face. I’m Brenda, one of the sisters here.” Clearly this was the part of the job that she enjoyed most. “We’ll see to him tonight down in the nursery, your husband’s been waiting to see both you and the baby. When he’s done in the viewing area we’ll send him up to your room. That’ll give us some time to get you cleaned up and feeling like a woman again. Then hopefully you’ll get a good night’s sleep.”
“Okay Simon,” Rowena said as she held him up against her face once more. “Mummy’s very tired now. You go say hello to your Dad and I’ll see you in the morning.”
She gently handed Simon over to the other nurse who managed her best to smile, and watched as she carefully laid him in the crib.
“Ready then are we?” Nurse Brenda asked.
“I guess.” Rowena turned back from watching Simon being wheeled out of the room, realising she had taken a while to answer. “You should have seen him before. Just before you walked in. It was like he was fascinated by something, and he had this beautiful little, gaping half smile. He looked so cute.”
“They all do darling, they all do.” The nurse replied matter-of-factly. Then spotting one of the wards man passing by in the corridor, she called out, “Henry! Get your backside in here. Where have you been? I was looking for you ‘bout half an hour ago. Must’ve had your nose in a good book, huh! Do a girl a favour and help me get this poor mother up to her room will you? Thanks darling. Third floor 2-0-5.”
“Okay,” was his only reply as he routinely wheeled a new bed into the room. With a wry smile on his face, he maneuvered it into place beside the delivery bed where Rowena lay.
Doing her best to look decent, Rowena let Brenda and the wards man help her across onto the other bed. It took only a few moments to get her comfortable on the new bed before they were wheeling her out of the delivery room. As they slowed to pass through the doorway, Rowena glanced over toward the area that had fascinated her baby only a moment before. Not knowing what could both delight and hold the attention of a newborn baby, she looked and saw only a light fitting mounted on an otherwise empty wall, smiled and thought ‘silly baby.’