It's now been 4 months since Benjamin was born. I realised the other day that many things were happening. Each day there are changes; every morning something is different. And so I wanted to note down where we are, what's happened, how we feel, what it's been like.
... and this is him!
It's the morning of June 14th 2012. Lisette is 9 months pregnant. Well 9 months and a day; she was due to give birth yesterday. I've attended the classes and so I know that kids aren't like microwave meals. They don't click and ding in exactly 3 minutes. They can come at any time. So for the last month that's pretty much what I've been expecting. Imminent arrival. It hasn't happened. But something's happening now... Lisette woke in the night. This isn't unusual at all. Since Lisette started on maternity leave she's pretty much adopted (the cat) Maggie's lifestyle. That is to say, she has about 3 or 4 sleeps a day and prowls the house during the night. Though thankfully she hasn't yet tried to use the catflap. But last night was different. When Lisette woke she felt a little strange. Not "I'm going into labour" strange; more "I've eaten a hot Thai curry" strange. As it happened she had eaten a hottish curry the night before. But lets not mince words; this was, sorry, this *is* labour. The contractions (after they'd been happening for 4 hours Lisette agreed that it probably wasn't a dicky tummy after all) are currently spaced about 5 minutes apart and they last about a minute. I know this as it's my job to time the contractions. We've gone high tech for that; we're using an app on Lisette's iPhone. When one starts Lisette cries "push the button" and I hit Start. Then when it's done she cries "'K" and I hit Stop. I've had more taxing jobs. Though nature has conspired to help me sympathise. In a cruel twist of fate I have this week developed a minor medical condition (I'll spare you the details) which means I've been doing a fair amount of groaning myself. It's probably not that comparable but I like to think it helps me to empathise. Lisette called the hospital and they said it was too early to go in. "Take paracetamol and have a bath" they said. Lisette's done both. It doesn't seem to have made any discernible difference. Maybe that's their stock advice to stop people going to the hospital too early. I'll sign off for now I think, I guess it'll all kick off soon. Exciting! Scary... Exciting!
It was now evening in Sicily and the sun was beginning to set. Lisette and I found ourselves in a cafe 5 miles from where we were lodging. The cafe was filled with about 40 elderly men; all drinking coffee and talking loudly. I tried addressing the man behind the counter: "Scusi Signore" I ventured (my Italian is not fantastic), "uhmmm, taxi... Scopello... Per favore?" The barman frowned. "Non. No taxis in Castellammare." And there he left it. It had, all told, been a very long day indeed.
We found out Lisette was pregnant at about 2 weeks. A combination of common sense and tradition meant we decided to keep the news pretty much to ourselves to start with. And it's undeniable that we were shocked enough with the news as is without having to deal with other peoples reactions as well. However, keeping the news of Lisette's pregnancy quiet up until this point has proved somewhat challenging. Lisette stopped drinking when she found out and to her surprise a friend, let's call him Chris for now, clearly noticed straightaway (what this says about Lisette I couldn't possibly comment). For Chris truly hates not to know a secret. Subsequently any time we met up with him we would be entertained by the ways in which he sought to know for sure. Various approaches were taken. There were the random questions: - "Are you okay Lisette?" - "Yes I am Chris." - "You're well?" - "Oh yes!" - "So... you're good" - "Yes... good" We found this thread of questioning would roll round with startling regularity. Moving on, there was the night we were drinking at the Eel Pie on Church Street and everyone was chinking pint glasses and "cheers"-ing. Someone randomly asked "are we celebrating anything?". At which point Chris turned to me, fixed me with a look and said "I don't know John... Are we?" Having got no joy with us Chris decided on a different tack... interviewing mutual compadres. Our friend, let's call her Sarah, was round visiting Chris for lunch. As it happened, Sarah was pretty much the only person who had advance knowledge of our news. Whether Chris had guessed this or not I cannot be sure but he certainly used it as his jumping off point: - "So Sarah... do you think Lisette is pregnant" - [Slightly stunned] "Why Chris, what makes you say that?" - "Well, you know... I've noticed that Lisette hasn't been drinking recently. And I was thinking to myself... well Lisette's just glowing right now. Don't you agree?" This about the woman whose spent the last 2 months clutching my hand and saying "John I'm nauseous - I need a ginger biscuit". After we heard that little tale we decided to deny knowledge of the child to Chris throughout the pregnancy and even after the birth. Our resolve on that point did not last long. We cracked and told him at 11 weeks. He seemed delighted; whether he was delighted that Lisette was pregnant or if he was simply pleased to finally been able to scratch his Sherlock-ian itch I couldn't say.