the story of matilda September 4, 2007

began 15 years ago today at 5am in the morning. An easy uneventful labour that resulted in a 9lb 2oz baby girl. All the drama began before we left the house. I stood on the front verandah at 1am and flat out refused to get into this old heap of rubbish car we had at the time. No way was I going to the hospital in it. So we had a bit of a fight about it until Cheryl came out and said – Stop fighting and get to the hospital. So we went in the work truck. When we got there we’d forgotten the card with all the details from the prenatal classes so darren had to go home and get it. Then I couldn’t get any pethidine as I think the nurses were too scared to wake the doctor up to ask him. They finally did at 4.30am and of course she was born half an hour later so all it really did was make me zonked out for the rest of the day. The nurses had the room all dark and relaxing and the doctor stormed in with bed hair and shoelaces undone and yelled out – will someone turn on the bloody light! Anyway Matilda was a bloody brat in hospital. Wouldn’t stop crying – almost drove us all insane. The nurses said she was hungry because she was so big and couldn’t wait for the milk to turn up. Of course the doctor had said she wasn’t allowed to have formula while she was waiting and the old sister said it was alright for him home in bed, not here with her working herself into a state. (Matilda that is was in a state, not the sister, although I’m pretty sure she just about was as well). She ended up giving her bottles of water – poor starving thing. But we survived and made it home where I only knocked her out of the bassinet once (it had funny wheels and I was pushing it and they kind of caught and over it went). But I had her tucked in tightly so she kinda stayed intact. Poor old third child – you’re much more reckless with them. When Jessie was born we were scared to put one of those little bonds suits on her as we thought we’d break her leg trying to get her into it. We had an elaborate bathing routine that involved warm rooms and fluffy towels whereas matilda’s just involved throwing her in with whoever was in the bath at the time then lying her on the bathroom floor to get dry. But she survived. Poor child, look, we couldn’t even be bothered putting her legs in the bouncer properly.