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       Chapter One

       Julie’s Arrival

      In Middlesborough in the late 1960s it was the custom for mothers who had had one straightforward birth in hospital to deliver their babies at home after that, which is a daunting prospect for anyone, even for someone like me who prides herself on being a down-to-earth Yorkshirewoman. So many different fears and thoughts are racing through your head as your due date draws near. What if something goes wrong? What if the baby comes early, or gets stuck? When a newborn baby’s life could be at stake it is very comforting to know you have all the technology and expertise of a well-equipped hospital at your disposal, rather than one midwife, a panicking husband and a pan full of boiling water. That option, however, was not on offer to us.

      My mind was buzzing with fears of imagined disasters and imminent emergency ambulance rides as the pain started to build up. My mam took my two-year-old son Gary off for a walk in his pushchair to keep him out of the way. The midwife had popped in when the contractions started in the morning but then disappeared off, breezily saying she would be back at lunchtime, leaving my husband, Charlie, plenty of time to panic as my moans increased in frequency and he started to imagine having to perform the delivery himself. No doubt the midwife had plenty of other patients to tend to; for her it was just another day’s work, even if it meant a lot more to us.

      By eleven o’clock I had to go upstairs and lie down, hauling myself up on the banister, memories of just how painful the whole childbirth business is coming rushing back with every spasm. How is it that we women manage to forget all that agony almost the moment it is over? I could hear Charlie making frantic phone calls downstairs as I concentrated on the pain upstairs, lying on the bed, wanting it all to be over but not wanting the baby to come before the midwife got back.

      The girl answering the phone at the doctor’s surgery must have asked Charlie if I was starting to push.

      ‘Are yer starting to push?’ he shouted up.

      ‘No,’ I yelled back.

      ‘Well, if the baby’s born,’ the girl told him, ‘just wrap it in a blanket, wipe its eyes and put it on the side. Don’t try to cut the cord.’

      ‘This is good,’ I heard him grumbling as he put the phone down. ‘I pay me National Health stamps and there’s nobody here when you need them!’

      The doctor sauntered in at about twelve to take a look and immediately saw that I was ready to deliver whether the midwife was there or not.

      ‘I’d better go and wash my hands,’ he said, but just then the midwife bustled back in and he decided to go downstairs to keep Charlie company instead.

      ‘I’ll wait around in case you need stitches afterwards,’ he said.

      I dare say the two men were brewing up for a cup of tea as we women got down to work in the bedroom.

      The birth itself was blissful and peaceful. ‘She’s arrived like an angel!’ exclaimed the midwife, as Julie emerged into

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