I Knew You'd Have Brown Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page B

sustained me.
    After they left, my homesickness worsened. They came once more to visit when my pregnancy was more advanced. I felt embarrassed at my size on that second visit.
    Bryan visited regularly and always brought me a carton of milk. The convent food was adequate, but I knew I needed calcium. By this time he had come to terms with my decision and accepted that adoption was the best choice for our baby. I appreciated his concern for me and his regular visits. Towards the end of my pregnancy he took me home to his parents’ place. They were away for the weekend. It was a welcome break from the convent, though I didn’t like the smell of tobacco and stale food. I cleaned the house and he later told me that his mother was pleased when I came over because the place looked better afterwards.

5
    When I woke in the early hours of 16 June 1975, my sheets were drenched with fluid. I thought I had wet my bed. When I stood up to examine the damage I felt a gush of warm liquid escape me.
    I hadn’t attended any of the antenatal classes that are commonplace these days. My limited knowledge of the birthing process was from the advice Dorothy gave me in the cafe and from reading my nursing textbook, which was for general nurses and did not cover midwifery in any detail. I may have heard the term ‘broken waters’ but this sensation was nothing I had expected. I crept down the passageway and alerted a nun, who called an ambulance.
    The hospital looked completely different at night. The ambulance attendant and hospital staff lifted me onto a trolley and pushed me to an interview room where a nurse took my details.
    ‘Would you like me to call anyone?’
    ‘Yes, please.’ I gave her Bryan’s number.
    Next she wheeled me to a small room where I was shaved and given a hospital gown. She checked my baby’s heartbeat. My contractions had become regular and more frequent.
    ‘As soon as a labour ward is available, we’ll take you there.’ I was left lying on the trolley in the corridor. To my surprise, my mother walked in.
    ‘How are you, little one?’
    I was mortified; this was neither the time nor the place to meet with my mother.
    ‘How did you know I was here?’
    ‘I asked the nuns to call me when your time came.’
    In my naivety I thought she didn’t know where the home was. I knew Bryan would be on his way to the hospital and would not be expecting to see my mother. A man in green scrubs wheeled me to the labour ward, and I imagined the two of them sitting uncomfortably together in the waiting room. At that time, women were not allowed a ‘significant other’ in the labour ward during birth.
    I was placed on a bed in the delivery room and the nurse began to put poles on either side of me.
    ‘What are those?’
    ‘Stirrups. We put your legs in ’em darl; makes the birth easier.’
    She placed a green curtain on the stirrups, so that I could not see my lower body. Then she lifted each leg and placed it in a stirrup. I felt a strange kind of disassociation with what was happening between my legs and the green curtain. The pethidine injection helped me relax. The rest was a blur until I heard my baby cry.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘A boy.’
    ‘Can I hold him?’
    I saw the glance pass between the doctor, who seemed to say yes, and the nurse, who said clearly and emphatically, ‘No!’
    So they knew. It only dawned on me at that moment that all the nurses in the delivery room knew my secret.
    I was wheeled into a double room and was so relieved at the prospect of sleep. I sank into the pillows. Soon after I had drifted off to sleep the curtains around my bed were pulled with a sharp sound that startled me.
    ‘You need to pee.’ It was a nurse with a bedpan, the likes of which I had only seen in my nursing textbook.
    ‘I can’t!’ I yelled, after she had perched me onto the cold metal object that bore only a little resemblance to a toilet.
    ‘Well, you have to try a bit harder!’ She turned on the tap in the sink