It’s amazing how pin sharp certain memories are.
Memories that come flooding back as we celebrate a lockdown birthday.
For our eldest is 11 today. High school age already!
I can remember the night before she was born. Trying to finish my weekly Yorkshire Evening Post bowls column, as A. tried to find some comfort from the contractions. Laid in the bath.
Or the drive to the hospital. Where no parking spaces were to be had.
Sitting in a side room because dilation wasn’t at the target figure, but the student midwife took pity on us. Thankfully she didn’t send us home.
Of seeing A. contorted with pain as things took a rapid turn. Laid on the bed. On her knees on the bed. Trying everything to get the right position to welcome LLK in to the world.
Even the moment when I saw the midwife hit the button on the wall, and four people appeared from nowhere. Pushing legs and hips in opposite directions, before our girl was delivered – safely to us.
The efficiency with which they reacted to a potential issue was both calming and professional. Even in its urgency.
There’s also a memory of standing in the room on my own. LLK in my arms, as we looked over the Leeds rooftops from our vantage point. I phoned my dad. I am told he cried as soon as we put the phone down. Our memories intwined.
LLK doesn’t get the story the boy does. No panicked home birth for her.
But I can still see it all. In a flash, but no blurring. Not yet. Just clarity.
Followed by 11 years of laying the foundations of even more memories to come.
HB our amazing girl!