Birth
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Diary Saturday 12th July 1997:
When things became urgent, Victoria was taken to the delivery room. This was a well-used room, last modernised in the fifties. In the centre stood half a bed of solid cast iron, painted white before independence and left to rust. As Victoria came in, the nurse, fierce and large by virtue of the job, extended the special delivery bed with a specially split construction to aid the gynaecologist with the delivery. Bright plastic covered cushions in a wild floral pattern were plucked off the floor and shoved under Victoria’s bottom without too much ceremony, while the nurse deliberated in herself and with her Christian conscience whether I was allowed to be present at the birth. I gave her little choice, but was ordered to stand at Victoria’s head to prevent any indelicacy. In came the smiley Gynaecologist. Victoria’s legs had been held together to prevent the baby from emerging before the Gynaecologist’s entrance. He smiled at me a bright, rather overenthusiastic smile and felt obviously uncomfortable at finding himself between Victoria’s legs while her husband was there standing at her side. After delivery he sewed the whole thing back up again. Joshua was tagged and taken away. I waited and looked around the room. Upon a shelf stood a row of multiplex planks. Flat planks, about half an inch thick, in the shape of a stretched out new-born baby. I did not ask what they were for. It seemed bad form at the time. Instead the doctor and I spent a happy few minutes inspecting and discussing a healthy placenta with its rich reds and purples and its intricate structures.
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