Thing was, seventeen years ago I was pregnant with our first baby. We had a funeral for Kev the day before the party had been due. The Aunties came. When they left, we broke out a bottle of this amazing German wine Kev had bought for the party. It was smooth as honey. My friend, my husband and I drank some. My friend went home at midnight and an hour later, my waters started to break. Thus was heralded the slow and reluctant arrival of a small and slightly early baby, Christy. A Neville Barnes. That's the forceps. I won't mention what other indignities those produced. I spent ten days in hospital in the end, mainly because the stress of it all shut down my waterworks and I eventually left hospital with a baby and a catheter.
Seventeen years later, I have, apart from other children, an amazing daughter, a bright, observant, creative daughter who loves, enjoys life, wants everything, loves me and has faith in the goodness of God and of others. I am very lucky. We are very lucky. Seventeen is almost an adult in some ways, and I am ready to let her fly free when she's ready but I can't see that happening for a wee while! Christy has adored our dog, Ottie, and our cat, Shyler, both gone now. She has seen death, birth, religion, sorrow and joy, all in her seventeen years and is all the better for it. Luckily, she has never been ill in any serious way but she has known illness in those around her and has proved compassionate and patient. I admire her positive approach, her energy and her zest for a good life.
Today I took her and her brothers to lunch in a Paris-style cafe because Christy appreciates good food as a special treat... Finn, nibbling on 'Hand-crafted French Fries' declared he would never eat at McDonalds again *g*
