Since I last wrote here I have met someone new. There is a new presence in my life and she is breathtaking. Kyla Therese Wilson was born inside the first 30 minutes of 2 April, 2007.
She may never comprehend the drama of the preceding 24 hours; I hope she never does. Yet at the end of it all, here she is.
She came home along Lygon Street after spending her first 3 nights at the Royal Women’s Hospital. She nestled into her capsule as we crawled among the evening peak hour. Single occupant cars everywhere. Darkness but for headlights and street lights and the brightness of shopping strips. Returning home from work. Cigarette smoke out the window. Cutting us off to enter our lane, only to see traffic in their original lane take off. Without them. Trams on the tracks full to the brim. I felt both tired and serene. There was nothing to be anxious about on this journey. Mum had taken Stephanie home, where we would all soon meet again, the four of us. Four of us.
We have all been home for two nights now. This morning Stephanie checked out Kyla in more detail than ever before; pointing out her toes, her knees and her hair. This morning Stephanie said her sister’s name for the first time (Ka-ka). It is a wonderful time of discovery and introduction for us all.
(it’s the next day now. Saturday. Last night Kyla screamed herself hoarse and didn’t sleep in any meaningful way between about 10.30pm and 5.30am. Since 7.30am, she has slept like a trench digger, pinned to my chest in a baby carrier, for over three hours now – it appears she is operating on the London time zone.)
Walking the boards at 4.30 this morning, piercing howl reverberating through the bones of my skull, happily my love for this little one only grew. Carrying her this morning has been a privilege. Meanwhile, Steph has devoured (yet another) hot cross bun, walked laps around her little tree in the back yard and gestured with a finger to her lips that I need to be quiet as Kyla is sleeping. And so the idea of Stephanie as a big sister grows.
The birth process was interesting; we often say that no two birth stories are alike. Kyla’s story was an epic 18 hour labour, the prospect of hormone injection, the facilitation of an epidural to allow that to occur, and then the news that the hormone would not be supplied after all. By this stage, following the epidural, contractions had dropped off and labour had stalled. Our choices? Wait until a different consultant surgeon began their shift (a further 10 hours away) and hope they would allow the hormone; or go for caesarean operation. Having been awake for 48 hours and in labour for 18, the choice was an easy one.
She won’t like me writing this, but I saw determination in Catherine that day that runs very deep. Deeper than any valley I know. I already knew of this characteristic, yet on this day, all my previous understandings of her strength were re-written. If Stephanie and Kyla inherent or learn this from their mother, they will know the value of perseverance and courage. Catherine is the one I choose to have by my side, let me say.
Other things to have happened this year have paled a touch with the events of this week. Suffice to say that teaching is challenging & fun & enjoyable & that life is beautiful.
adios amigos, dave-of-the-south
