last Monday on my way to work I was telling myself not to get too excited as there was still a week to go before Bekah's due date. I started thinking about the things I had to do that day, and one of them was to make sure my boss was ok with me taking off if I got the call from Bekah while I was at work.
I had been doing a few jobs and got back to my desk; out of habit I checked my phone. There were two missed calls from Bekah. This was not normal behaviour so I rang her back straight away. As soon as she spoke I could hear the pain in her voice and I knew this was it. I left work ten minutes later; went home to pack a bag and headed down to Crewe. I think it took me about an hour to stop shaking.
When I got there, the house was quiet and relaxed considering the circumstances. Bekah was coping well and Adam was being very supportive. They had planned a home birth with a pool, which was all set up and ready in the dining room. The midwife returned around 5pm and decided that Bekah was far enough along to be monitored constantly from there on.
Things were progressing as normal, albeit slowly. I wasn't really doing much as Adam was making sure Bekah had everything she needed, but she was glad I was there. Around 4am in the morning it was becoming clear that Bekah needed to make a decision as to whether she should go into hospital and give up on the home birth as it seemed baby was far too comfortable and happy and wasn't keen to be coming out any time soon, so a little extra help might be needed. She didn't know what to do as this meant turning the experience into everything she didn't want. She looked at me and asked "what should I do?". Anyone who is a mother will know that the responses you give at crucial moments like this are pretty darn important. I just told her that she needed to do what was right for the baby and that if she stayed at home, she didn't have the options she would have in hospital.
We got to the hospital around 5am, and it was a bit of a shock to the system. At home, it had been quiet (apart from the occasional scream) with subdued lighting and comfy armchairs. The hospital was all bright lights and noise and without a comfy chair in sight. I felt bad that I had advised Bekah to go there, even though I knew it was where she needed to be.
They tried every trick in the book to move things along for her but it was still slow going. They kept saying that baby was happy and they would give it another hour. Every time it was "give it another hour". Bekah was getting exhausted but was coping brilliantly. They were talking about epidurals and caesarians, but thanks to there being two other ladies that needed more urgent attention, and only one anaesthetist, this kept getting delayed.
Eventually just after 11am they told her that she was finally ready. We all just burst into tears, including Adam, although I'm not sure he'd admit it. I haven't asked Bekah exactly why she was crying but my tears were a mixture. On the one hand this meant she was going to have a natural birth, but on the other hand this meant waiting another hour (they call it passive second stage) before she could start actively pushing. I was glad things were ok, but concerned at how much longer Bekah could go on and how tired she was. I wanted it all to end for her as soon as possible, but yet again we were being told another hour. We got told so many times that baby was happy that it nearly became his middle name.
My beautiful little girl had to push for two and a half hours. She was amazing. So exhausted but still giving all she had for her baby. At the start of this we weren't sure if I would still be there right at the end, or whether it would just be Bekah and Adam, but I got to see my grandson be born. Ok, maybe not 'see'. I was more on the 'grab my hand and grip as hard as you can' end of things, but even so, I was there. And, as with pretty much every mother I know about, the first thing Bekah said to him was "hello" as she held him close.
My first cuddle came when Bekah was having a shower. I think this is the very first picture of him.
Bekah had to stay in hospital that night to be monitored, so eventually Adam and I left to go and get some sleep. Something that Bekah desperately needed but was unlikely to get.
I spent the next day trying to make things normal for them at the house while waiting for them to get back from the hospital. In the evening there were lots of visitors and cuddles all round. Baby was being so good, as we were all making suggestions about what he should be called.
Once everyone was gone I said I would stay downstairs with still unnamed baby, while Bekah and Adam slept. He wasn't keen on settling in his moses basket, so we just cuddled all night. This was when he really became my grandson. Babies smell so good don't they? He was all mine for those hours. I didn't have to share him with anyone. I could watch him and rock him and kiss him as much as I wanted. Something I shall never forget, and I hope the feelings I experienced don't dim with time.
He finally got named on day three. He is Charles Alfred Bentley, or Charlie, but also currently known as monkey boy Charlie or Charlie monkey and was introduced to the world with this photo..
I enjoyed my few days with the new family. I got to know Adam much better, and was treated a bit like a VIP when I stayed at the Holiday Inn where Bekah worked.
He is one and a half hours drive away from me, and I'm finding it hard to accept that there is a little baby in my life that I'm not there to look after twenty four hours a day. I'm not the mummy this time. This is the next chapter.
