Chapter 39: A baby news special

Another Richardson enters the world

From a letter to the family dated June 21, 1973:

Niall Cameron Richardson was born at Queen Charlotte's Hospital, Stamford Brook, London, at 5.35am (British Standard Time) on June 20, 1973. Delivery was by forceps after induced labour lasting nine hours. Rosemary is sore but happy. Niall looks as though he's lost a World Championship Fight (lightweight of course!), but is otherwise unharmed. His birth weight was 7lbs l2oz [3.52kgm]. He has dark hair and looks just like Harley when he was born.

Rosemary went into hospital on Monday afternoon and labour was to be induced the following morning. Late on Tuesday morning the doctors decided to leave it another day, but when Harley and I visited Rosemary in the evening a vacancy came up in the labour wards so she was whisked away. I left Harley with one of Rosemary's girlfriends for the night, did a bit of organising and returned to the hospital at 11pm. I was allowed to stay with Rosemary right to the end, which was a marvellous experience for both of us.

The hospital, which deals with maternity cases only, is very well equipped. Rosemary was wired up to two monitoring machines and had electrodes everywhere. One was even attached to the baby's head while it was still in the womb. It was quite interesting watching all the dials, flashing lights and charts. All the nurse (a little Malayan girl who did a year's training at the Royal Women's Hospital in Melbourne) had to do was keep a watch on the machines and check Rosemary's blood pressure from time to time. The ward sister and a doctor called in every half hour or so. When the doctor finally decided the baby wasn't going to come of its own accord, he asked me if I still wanted to stay. I wasn't going to be cheated out of being at the birth for anything, so bravely replied "yes".

No chances were taken: There were two doctors, four nurses and a paediatrician (an Australian girl who did her training at the Royal Children's Hospital in Melbourne). I knew enough about the forceps procedure not to be frightened by all the instruments, but it was nevertheless an anxious time. It was clearly a very critical period for the baby, and although the delivery took only half-an-hour, it seemed at least twice that long. It was a great relief to see the little feller emerge safely. I was allowed to take my camera into the labour ward and got pictures of Niall fifteen minutes after being born (wouldn't you know I'd do something like that!).

I staggered home about 6.30am feeling as though it was I who had given birth. After phoning the news through to mother-in-law Val Batson in Bendigo, I collapsed into bed.

I took Harley in with me for the afternoon visit and he couldn't believe his eyes when be saw the baby. We’d told him about the baby often, but apart from realising there was some link between Mum's big tum and the new cot in the spare bedroom, it was all a bit much for his comprehension. When he was actually shown Niall, he stood there grinning like a Cheshire cat and pointing furiously. He eventually summoned up enough courage to rock the cot and shrieked with delight when the baby yawned and stretched.

Rosemary is absolutely delighted with the hospital. There is just no comparison with the cold and abrupt but efficient Hammersmith Hospital maternity wards. Everything is carefully informal and relaxed. The nurses are very friendly and manage to make each mother feel that each baby is special. The Australian paediatrician spent several hours chatting to us during labour about various matters of mutual Australian interest. We were very pleased to have the company.

From a letter dated June 20, 1973:

Rosemary and Niall came home from hospital today. Rosemary was feeling and looking very well. Niall is thriving and is a dear little chap. She is breast feeding him and having absolutely no trouble at all. He’s incredibly like Harley at the same stage.

Harley (so far at anyrate) is delighted with his new brother. He keeps touching him to see if he’s real and within minutes of arriving home today was sharing his biscuit (or trying to) with Niall and showing him his toys.

Harley was extremely well behaved while Rosemary was in hospital. He showed no sign of distress at her absence. Being allowed to visit her in hospital probably played a part in this.

From a letter dated July 8, 1973:

Niall is thriving and has put on a lot of weight in the short time he’s been home from hospital. Apart from the fact that he requires feeding every 3½-4 hours, he’s no trouble at all. In fact, we tend to forget he’s even in the house he’s so quiet.

Harley finds his young brother quite the most interesting object he’s seen for a long time. There’s not the slightest sign of jealousy on his part. Quite the opposite. He's always wanting to share his biscuits, lollies and drinks with Niall and can’t understand why his spoil-sport parents won’t let him. On one occasion, Rosemary mentioned to Harley that Niall was crying because he was hungry – so Harley trotted off to the refrigerator and returned with a full bottle of milk, which he tried to drop into the cot. Despite this, Harley tends to be unintentionally rough on Niall. He has a large Grenadier Guard which Rosemary knitted for him and which is transported about the house in a headlock with feet trailing on the floor. Harley appears to believe that if this is good enough for his soldier then it’s good enough for Niall!

We realised the other day that our passports have just about run out -- which means that it’s almost five years since we left Australia. Both Niall and Harley will have to go on Rosemary’s passport. Not just their names but their photos as well, so I’ve had to take a group picture. It’s a real farce because Niall won’t look anything like he does now in five months time let alone five years. Harley (pictured at two months) is on Rosemary’s present passport and there’s no way in a world that an immigration officer would be able to recognise Harley as he is now. Niall (like Harley) is being registered with Australia House, which means they have dual citizenship. This could be handy for them at some time in the future.

From a letter dated July 29, 1973:

Niall is keeping very well and is hardly any trouble, although he hasn’t yet dropped his middle-of-the-night feed. He is so much like Harley it’s quite spooky. Even their temperaments seem similar. Most people are of the opinion that Niall is a Scottish name, although one of our friends swears that it’s Irish. One of these days we'll investigate.

I noticed the other day a letter in the Times signed by a Niall MacDermot (who is Secretary-General of the International Commission of Jurists) so that is a further indication of the Scottish ancestry. By the way, the name is pronounced Nile (as in the river). Some people have pronounced it “kneel”.

After a slow start, Harley’s speech is coming on an enormous rate. It’s quite remarkable. I suppose he’ll soon start to drive us mad with his talk.

Today has been the first decent day (weatherwise) for almost a fortnight. We've had rain almost every day. Mind you, we shouldn't complain because up until the rains started there were serious fears of a drought, with water restrictions. We had a few thunderstorms early on and Harley loved the thunder and lightning. The trouble now is that every time the sky clouds over, Harley insists on dragging us out on the back stairs to listen to the “boom, boom, booms".

And on the subject of thunderstorms, we recently had yet another flood in our place. We had a new TV aerial installed by a chap who must have been wearing hob-nailed boots because he smashed a number of tiles. All telephone calls to get the damage fixed met with polite assurances, but no action. Then we had a ripper of a thunderstorm! Water poured into Harley’s room at an enormous rate, soaking everything and overflowing down the stairs. It was ghastly. And over the next two days there were some heated exchanges over the telephone before the damage was repaired.

From a letter dated September 16, 1973:

Harley is at the stage where he gets bored very easily, and Rosemary has been finding it hard to make time to entertain him and also cope with Niall. Niall has just gone through a period when he was awake most of the day and didn’t pack it in until about 10.30pm. She was left exhausted. We have our fingers crossed that very shortly there will be a vacancy at a nearby playschool for two mornings a week. As a short-term measure, Rosemary has arranged for Harley to attend a local child-minder for two mornings a week. This woman also looks after one of Harley’s little playmates (while his mother works mornings) so it should work out well. Rosemary will get a bit of a break and Harley will have another child to play with.

Niall continues to thrive and is settling into a routine of 12 hours unbroken sleep overnight. He not only looks like Harley did, but he seems to have Harley’s very independent and determined personality. He is very alert.

From a letter dated October 14, 1973:

It is weeks since I last wrote. My correspondence seems to be getting further and further behind. Rosemary and I often ask ourselves what we used to do with all the spare time we had before our two demanding children arrived on the scene. Until Niall arrived we didn’t realise just how little sleep we could survive on. Actually they’re quite good once we get them down at night (Harley at about 8pm and Niall at about 9pm) because they both usually sleep for 11-12 hours without a break. It’s just that we find it difficult to get to bed before midnight -- me because of my BBC shifts and Rosemary because she tries to catch up with her work after the kids are in bed and to snatch an hour or two of complete relaxation before she hits the cot. Rosemary has found it a marvellous help having Harley with the child-minder two mornings a week. Niall usually sleeps most of the morning, so this allows her to get a short nap or do those jobs that are impossible with two boys running around.

Niall fortunately sleeps an unbroken 12 hours most nights. He and Harley go to bed between 7.30 and 8pm and surface about the same time next morning. Niall is teething, but he remains in good temper. Most of the time he’s a real little darling. He’s getting quite a cute crew cut of very fine hair.

Harley’s vocabulary is widening at a very fast rate and chats away all day long. He gets rather bored with just being around the house and it’s a great shame he couldn’t get into playschool in September as planned. He is able to handle quite complicated words like microphone and typewriter (I wonder what he’s going to grow up to be!), but can’t say his own name. He’s finally settled on calling himself Aye-yah, putting himself some considerable distance from the correct pronunciation.

Harley still can’t understand the fragility of Niall, which means we have to watch them pretty closely when they're together. Harley is always giving Niall quite dangerous (for him) toys to play with, or poking slabs of indigestible food into his mouth. The other day Rosemary left them in the loungeroom together for a minute and was alerted that something was amiss when she heard Harley giving a certain kind of giggle. She rushed back to find Harley had dragged Niall out of his chair and was rolling him backwards and forwards across the floor. Niall didn’t appear to mind on this occasion, but took exception when Harley tried to repeat the performance just as soon as Rosemary turned her back again.

From a letter dated December 28, 1973:

We had a very enjoyable Christmas. We were joined for Christmas dinner by Nat and Alma Kipner and Betsa and Geoff Hutson. We gave Harley a couple of presents when he woke at 8.30am and kept the rest until just before sitting down for dinner. He couldn’t believe his eyes and had the wrappings off the presents before he could discover who gave them to him. As for Niall, it was an occasion of no interest whatever, which is not surprising considering his age.

From a letter dated January 19, 1974:

Harley turned three today. It’s hard to believe. We didn’t do anything special to celebrate other than taking him for a ride on the underground, which is one of his great delights. Seeing his birthday follows so soon on Christmas, Rosemary is thinking of having a joint celebration for Niall and Harley in June.

Harley began going to playgroup this week and thinks it’s fantastic. Rosemary thought she might have to stay with him for a while on the first morning, but within 10 minutes he’d forgotten all about her, so she went home. Initially, he will go two mornings a week. Playgroup didn’t come one day too soon because he was getting very bored with life.

Harley has, for no apparent reason (other than the fact that he’s intrinsically contrary), suddenly reversed his first and middle names. He now goes about referring to himself as Dermid Aye-yah (Harley McDearmid). Rosemary made some enquiries at the local library about the history of the kids’ names. She discovered that Niall is Irish and is believed originally to have meant “champion”. She also learned that McDearmid is Irish originally.

Niall is keeping very well but is a bit restless at night. He’s not necessarily unhappy, he’s just wakeful. Rosemary is having difficulty weaning him because he refuses to drink from a bottle and doesn’t fancy a mug much either.

We have begun getting our injections in preparation for our upcoming trip to Australia. Harley was knocked rotten by his combined typhoid and cholera injection. He had a terrible fever overnight, then spent most of the next day sitting silently on the settee watching television and reading his books. He was too sick to do anything else. Fortunately, Niall doesn’t have to have injections because of his age.

We had another of our own floods last week. We had a violent electrical storm during the night (most unusual for winter) and it hadn’t been going long when Harley began to scream. We thought he was frightened by the thunder, but when I opened his bedroom door I saw a foot-long split in the ceiling from which water was pouring over him. Water was also pouring through the light fitting. It’s the third time Harley has been flooded while asleep and we wouldn’t blame him if he grew up to be quite neurotic about water. On this last occasion though, he calmed down quite quickly and after Rosemary had changed him into dry clothes, he was happy to go to sleep in a sleeping bag in the loungeroom. His bedroom was a real mess, and the plumber we called in the morning discovered a tennis ball jammed in the roof outlet, which meant that most of the water running off the front roof was diverted through his room. It still hasn't dried out properly and probably won’t for several days yet.

That’s enough baby stuff for the time being. I’m sure the following chapters will contain more baby stories mixed with reports about other events in our lives. I’ll let Niall wave goodbye for now.

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Earlier chapters can be found HERE