Well worth the wait — and the weight

AINE O’CONNOR

This day 16 years ago I was 18 stone 4. I could barely walk because the leg I had broken some months earlier was swollen to painful near incapacity, I was having trouble breathing because I had bronchitis and I hadn’t slept a full night for some months because my anxiety was so acute that the GP had resorted to medicating me. I knew it had to end very soon, it was supposed to have ended 11 days earlier but nothing was stirring and in a strange way I had rather given up.

Indeed I had so given up that this day 16 years ago my husband had to push me into going into the cattle mart public clinic. I was all for skipping it, sure they’d only send me home again anyway. But in I went to wait with my plastic cup of pee for a go on the scales. The dude overseeing the pregnancy was so obsessed with my weight, he’d thoughtfully awarded me weight gain for the year 2000 which really was a tremendous boost for me, that he always seemed disappointed when my blood pressure wasn’t up. But this day 16 years ago had a little bonus, the man I had come to dread wasn’t there.

The baby was showing no signs of wanting to emerge, “How long will they leave me go?” was my plaintive mumble to his replacement. “Oh, until your due date at least,” she replied. “That was 11 days ago.” She checked, like I was going to get that wrong, and assured me that I would not leave the hospital still pregnant. So this day 16 years ago I was induced and the baby that didn’t want to budge didn’t need a second call.

Of course I wanted the baby to be well, but I did desperately want a daughter. Tomorrow, 16 years ago, I got my wish, a healthy daughter, and every day of those years with her has been a special treat. Happy birthday baby.