Paphos People

MY LITTLE GIRL

As I stand here waiting for my daughter, as I have done so many times through her life, my thoughts go back a mere twenty one years.

Frances, my wife, had started labour pains in the middle of the night so I made a phone call to the hospital maternity unit early next morning.
“Stay calm Mr Southerland, give her a cup of tea and then bring her in we’ll be waiting for you.”
Comforted by their reassuring tone I put the kettle on and prepared the British answer to every crisis-a cup of tea.
Frances came into the kitchen.
“OK love, your case is ready and I’ve made you a nice cuppa.”
“If you think I’ve got time to sit around drinking tea you must want your head seeing to!” was the reply that I got and was not expecting. “Get me to the bloody hospital now!!”
Helping her to our old Mini, belting her in and firing up the engine I drove very steadily the eight miles to the hospital. There were two emergency stops as she had contractions en route. I had visions of a birth in the front seat of the Mini in a bus stop. Roaring into the hospital A&E dept ambulance bay, I rushed in shouting for help. Two nurses came out with a wheelchair and helped Frances out of the car.
“Go and put this in the car park and come in”
I made my way to the maternity ward, and was given a robe, cap and mask.
“You’d better get a move on if you want to be present at the birth, come on look lively!” said the nurse.
I blundered into the birthing room to see my wife, knees in the air, sweating profusely, her normally pristine hair stuck to her face as the perspiration trickled down her cheeks.
“Are you squeamish sir because if you pass out you’re on your own, we’ve got more important things to take care of” said the midwife.
“What can I do?” I whimpered pathetically.
“Wipe your wife’s brow with that damp towel and keep out of our way”
I had never felt so useless in all my life, wiping her brow and holding her hand. By heck I never realised she had such a powerful grip.
“Push love-hard, OK rest a minute, every thing’s OK” said the midwife.
As I stood there with probably a stupid smile on my face, my hand was crushed again as she screamed in pain.
“This is it. One more good push, we can see the head is engaged it’s all up to you now!”
With a scream like I have never heard the like of before or since and a really hard push our beautiful baby daughter was born.
Placing the tiny bundle in Frances’ arms the midwife smiled.
“What are you going to call her?” she said.
I was speechless and very emotional but at last I managed the few words that I had been saying for the last nine months.
“Andrew” I said “If it’s a boy” immediately realising my gaffe “Or Julia if it’s a girl.”
“Julia it is then, congratulations to you both.”
She left us alone for some time and we just stared at the miracle that we had produced. Emotions took over and tears of joy and relief flowed. All the thoughts of what was to be, all the plans we had made for either gender but half of them would have to be shelved for another time.
I was ushered out of the birthing room as the nurses did the things that Dads didn’t need to know about.
“Your wife will be admitted to the ward now, just ask at reception when you come back. I expect you have a few visits to make, Grandparents need to be the first to be told you know.”

“Will I do Dad?” Julia’s dulcet tones jerk me back to reality.

Standing on the staircase looking absolutely stunning in her wedding dress is the beautiful young woman that it has been my responsibility and privilege to look after for the last twenty one years.

Through my tears I just about manage to say “PERFECT”.