Anyway, that’s my rant over with for this entry, that’s not why I’m writing to you, but as my 17-year-old brings me a cup of coffee with soya milk, (not without my asking mind), and I am feeling rather under the weather as the result of more unexpected ceasures this morning, I thought I’d take the time to chill out a little, and tell you some mmore about my life’s history, the next “chapter”, if you like?
Yesterday I think I’d gotten to the point whereby I had been working for a high street bank in central London, I think I can say without fear of being sued for lible that I worked for what used to be called Midland bank, in Covent Garden, and then in Holborn Circus. I loved it, but with hindsight, I was probably the worst employee they had ever had? I was always on the sick, granted my medical condition didn’t help, but I did make friends there, and don’t mind admitting that I thought my line manager in the holborn circus branch was really rather yummy, although looking back now I don’t know why? Isn’t it strange how we are attracted to people of the opposite sex when we’re younger, and then look back when we’re older and think “why”? Nevertheless, my eldest, Sam, carries his name as one of his middle names…more on that later.
Anyway, I digress, I’m supposed to be telling you about my relationship(S, and being a mom, with a disability on board.
I was never the promiscuous type of woman, and taking into account the fact that I went to an all-girls boarding school, where we wer brought up with the strictest attitude…if you walked into a room with someone of the opposite sex you became pregnant or caught an std, and if you had just one alcaholic drink you got liver failure, I really didn’t do too badly. I had several boyfriends before I hooked up with my kids’ daddy, and I don’t mind admitting openly that when I moved to London to study office skills in September 1986, it didn’t take me long to find a man…I won’t name him, because he’s no longer with us, R.I.P, but with hindsight it was destined to failure. He was old enough to be my dad, and his reputation preceeded him, but he showed me male attention, and of course, being 17 and curious…I loved it!
I met my kids’ dad, who I will name..Michael, in 1988. I was living in a large edwardian house in west London, which was converted into studio flats and owned by a small housing association for blind/parcially sighted people. I had a flat on the ground floor, and Michael was staying with his twin brother, who sadly is no longer with us, in a flat upstairs. I remember well the day we met…I needed a lightbulb changing and, not being able to reach, I ventured upstairs to the twins’ flat for help, Michael came down to see me…and the friendship developed from there.
Our friendship turned into a relationship, as it often does, although when I met Michael I was seeing someone else at the time. I cannot recall how the previous relationship ended, but it must have been amicably, because my memories of, and genuine feelings for the man in question are nothing but loving and kind…I always say I truly believe he was the only man I was ever in love with . . . his name was David.
Michael’s twin brother passed away on 2nd October 1990. It was totally unexpected, and a shock to us all. He was working, at the time, as a temp at an old folk’s care home, and was on his way back to the flat he lived in, above me. We were awoken by the intercom, but never knew until the next morning that John had been killed in an RTA…he didn’t suffer. Michael and his family were distraught, Michael’s parents visited immediately, and spent some considerable time at their son’s apartment before returning to their home. Michael was staying with me at the time, and it was shortly after that, I became pregnant with my eldest, Sam.
Lots of things happened that year, we also lost a neighbour, who lived upstairs from me…I actually ended up living in their flat with Sam, because it was the only proper one-bed apartment in the building, even though there were a mass of stairs to climb, and I later regretted the decision to take it. My grandma, (nanny) also passed away just as I discovered I was expecting, and to this day we all believe she died to make space in the world for Sam. She’d have been so proud of me, so proud of her first-born granddaughter, how I coped in the face of advercity, how I managed despite my disability, etc etc, but sadly it was not to be.
I enjoyed a fairly trouble free pregnancy, although my epilepsy meant that I hadta have what they call “full care”, meaning all my appointments were in the hospital, rather than some at home, or with my local gp, and I was under a specialist type of doctor, etc etc. I suffered a difficult labour, and had multiple, unconscious, absence style ceasures throughout, to the extent that Sam’s life and mine were at risk by the time he was born, and I cannot remember his birth.
My relationship with Michael suffered extensively during my pregnancy. I know for sure he wouldn’t mind me writing about this, since he’s undergone councelling etc for it all since then, and many of the issues are behind us, although not all. I was a victim of some domestic violence, but I’m not willing to discuss that much further, it’s not fair to other parties involved. At the end of my pregnancy, I guess I was about 34 weeks, I was forced to ask Michael to leave…the reason why is a strict secret between those closest to me, even my children aren’t privy to that one. However, it meant he wasn’t with me when Sam was born, and I contacted him in secret afterwards, without the knowledge of my extended family, for fear of reprisals. It took some time for them to accept him again.
Sam Malcolm Russell was born on 9 October 1991. He was the picture of health, he was a physical fighter from the start, he was chubby, and weighed in at a massive 9 pounds 11 ounces. He was a guzzler, with a shock of beautiful ginger hair, which he retains to this day. From the outset Sam slept well, and taking all things into account, was a “good” baby.
My children all have 3 christian names – Sam was named after a current member of some pop band I liked at the time, (Sam), my line manager at the bank, (Malcolm), and my iconic hero, as is still to this day, (Russell).
Freddie Phillip Hamish was born 1 year and 3 days after his brother…needless to say the close gap between them means that Freddie was most certainly not planned, and he is aware of that, although it’s never, ever been held against him. Freddie was born by caesarian section and, because I missed out on Sam’s birth, as such, to me it seemed as though Freddie’s birth was the first one…it was somehow the most special? The implications of this have meant that Freddie and I have retained a special kind of relationship throughout his life…not that he’s a favourite, I don’t have those, but there’s something special there, that’s so difficult to explain. Freddie weighed in at 8 and a half pounds, and was all chub and blubber! Honestly he was…he has to’ve been the squeeziest, squishiest baby/toddler I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing/hugging. Needless to say it’s all turned to muscle now, but he remains of a larger build, which does suit him, unlike both his brothers, who are incredibly slim.
Freddie was named after Freddie Mercury, who passed away just 6 weeks after Sam’s birth, Phillip was the name of one of the consultants who helped to deliver him, (when I was nervous about the c-section, the afore mentioned Phil Bennett was especially jovial and comforting to me), and Hamish is a teenage secret I cannot share in this diary, sorry about that!!!
When Sam was born, my deepest fear was that the social services would declare me unfit to care for him because I couldn’t see, but I couldn’t have been more wrong? Sure, I was visited, almost as soon as Sam and I came home from hospital, but it was to see if I needed anything, not to see how I’d cope? I was really quite touched by the support I received, and, if I say it myself, I coped very well. I had some post natal depression, I remember feeling as though Sam was this “sighted alien” in my life…I struggled with the fact that this “sighted alien” could see everything I did, was aware of everything I did…I felt like I was being invaded, my space was being taken over? From the outside, it’s impossible for people to understand, I’ve had this conversation over and over with people, and noone seems to get it, but to me it was a very, very real concern. I hafta say it didn’t last for long, by the time I had fallen pregnant with Freddie, I had forgotten all about my concerns.
I’d say the biggest practical problem I had with caring for a baby was trying to spoon feed? OMG the memories!!!! lol!!!! I was always lucky if 20 percent of the food ended up in the right place…I recall always having to prepare more food than I wanted the child to eat, because I knew full well that most of it was gonna end up on their face, in their hair, on the floor, on the high-chair tray, anywhere but in their mouth! I hafta say that bringing up bubbas is nowhere near as difficult for blind people as one might think, and many people I know experienced far less problems than I did, so I don’t credit myself that highly, although I confess right here…that Ross was another, very, very different story.
Ok, that’s enough for now.
If you’re fascinated by this entry, or even remotely interested, and you’d like to read more about how I’ve gotten along with the complexities of two disabilities of my own, plus raising a child with profound autism…then continue reading this blog.
Love always, Jennie.
Miss Macaulay’s closing lines:
“Thankyou beautiful people, goodnight, god bless, you’ve been a tremendous audience . . . see you soon!!!”
(The late freddie Mercury, R.I.P, it’s from a live show.)
