18 years ago we were living in Dalston (Hackney), and when the contractions started my friend Kim came in her car to pick Youssef and I up and drive us to the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel. Ario was born at 4pm-ish, in a labour room seemingly crowded with people, including my sister Anne Louise, 2 or 3 midwives, a pediatrician, a doctor and a few others - all there to watch (and possibly help with) Ario's arrival feet first. Because he was breech and he was being born 'naturally', the doctor suggested that I should give birth standing up, to give gravity a chance to help out. 'Standing up' is a loose term for being supported on either side by Anne Louise and a midwife like an boxer coming out of the ring after a knock out. My legs had little to do with it.
Who would have thought such an ugly little thing would turn into a lovely tall, polite, handsome, gifted, and quiet spoken young man? I wish Youssef could see him now.
Then we went out to the street party, armed with the piping hot tomato tart. 
Perhaps he said - or has said on other birthdays, 'Thank you for having me.' My mother discreetly insists on my doing so.
ReplyDeleteI never knew he came feet first - a very difficult delivery, I feel sure. It would have been wonderful for Youssef and Ario - and Mariam too, of course - to know each other now. I can't think of Youssef without feeling very privileged to have known him.