Veronica, March 2021
When my contractions began, in the early hours of Friday morning, each one brought with it a memory jolt of giving birth to London. I could see her clearly in my mind, this beautiful, tiny baby that I held, her skin red as she wails in agony and her blue eyes that match my own. She is the spiting image of myself but has wisps of dark hair that she was gifted from Sam, the perfect combination of us both.
I can hear myself talking to her, telling her to be strong, to hold on because we need her here. She's so fragile and I'm afraid I'm going to bring her more pain, just by holding her but I can't let her go. I place my hand gently on top of her head and I can feel her beneath my fingers, she's real and I'm so afraid of having this memory taken from me.
I wanted to feel the connection to both my children, as much as it saddened me to be reminded of the loss of London, I felt that Claire was bridging the gaps in my memory. When we arrived at the hospital I decided to not have any pain relief because I was so frightened I'd lose the connection to London.
Six hours into an intense and gruelling labour, I was beginning to regret that decision. With each contraction I felt like I was being torn apart inside with very little rest period from one to the next. My face was burning red and my hair matted with sweat that dripped from my forehead. I'd been pushing for the last hour, squeezing with all my might as I clamped my hand down onto Sams arm and screamed through the excruciating pain. I was beyond exhausted, every push I gave stole more of my energy.
The private birthing suite now felt like a prison that I'd never escape from, I'd be stuck in this bed, pain ripping through me for eternity, I was sure of it.
"I need you to push Veronica." My doctor ordered me but I have no strength left in me, I'd given it my all early on. I squeeze out what I can but even I know it's not enough. "Harder Veronica, you need to push hard now."
"I can't." I cry, I know it's the only way to end this but I just don't have the energy to keep going. "I need an epidural."
"We're passed that point now." My doctor tells me but I don't believe her.
"Please, I need it." I beg her, how can she expect me to do this naturally, surely they have an anaesthetist just roaming the halls, ready to inject the epidural at a moment's notice. She's just punishing me now, teaching me a cruel lesson for refusing pain relief when I got here.
"Bunny, you can do this." Sam says in his soothing tone, not having the slightest clue of what I'm going through.
"Let's push a watermelon out of your penis and see if you can do it without drugs." I scream at him, trying to put it into perspective for him. My doctor chuckles and pulls Sam down towards the end of the bed.
"I can see her head." Sam exclaims, giving me the motivation to keep going. I close my eyes and push as hard as I can, giving it all all the strength I have left.
Through my push an image floods my mind but unlike the memories I have from the past that come back to me, this is different, I'm not being shown my past at all. I recognise the setting, it's my backyard but with the added addition of a swing set. A girl with dark, hazelnut coloured hair and big brown eyes runs up to the swing, she appears to be around six, maybe seven but she's not alone, trailing behind her is a small boy with jet black hair and green eyes.
The small boy climbs onto the seat and the girl carefully pushes him, making sure she's there to catch the swing each time it returns.
I've never seen these children before but I know that they're mine and that I love them, I can feel that motherly bond I have with them, the need to protect them from harm. The image fades as I'm pulled back to reality, to the exhaustion and pain.
"The head is out but I need you to give me one last big push and then it will be over." My doctor tells me. I tap into my final source of reserved energy, pushing as hard as I can, the image of the children playing together on the swing once again fills my head, their sweet sounds of laughter spur me on, showing me that although the pain is excruciating right now, it will be worth it.
I feel Claire being pulled from me, the sound of her crying fills the small room, strong and loud. Fear engulfs me when I remember how small London was and I worry that Claire will hold the same fate as her sister but when the doctor holds her up so that Sam can cut the umbilical cord, my fears are forgotten the moment I lay eyes on my perfect baby girl.
"She looks like you." I tell Sam when she's placed in my arms and I marvel at her beautiful features, the dark hazelnut hair and brown eyes, just like her father.
"I can see you in her too Bunny." He says, stroking her cheek as he peers down on her. "She has your nose, just like her sister."
I like that Claire will carry some similar features to London, it's as if she will have her big sister with her wherever she goes, my two precious baby girls are connected.
"Dad, would you like to bring your daughter over to the basin and we will give her her first bath?" The doctor asks Sam and without hesitation he lifts Claire from my arms, cradling her protectively as he carries her to the basin.
I feel her absence immediately, she may have only just entered the world but my bond with her is strong, like I want to hold her forever, to keep her safe from harm. When she's returned to me she wrapped snuggly in a blanket and I watch her in awe as she takes in her new surroundings.
"Welcome to the world Claire Bridget Lions." I greet her, rocking her gently in my arms. Another familiar feeling begins to stir within me and I realise quickly that it has haunted me for years, long after I lost London, the fear of trying again, or reaching this point and having it ripped away, that was why I hadn't wanted to even attempt to fall pregnant again.
For so many months I had wondered why I had lost my memory, what my past was hiding from me, now I realise that it was because of my memory loss that I was able to open myself up trying again.
As I looked down at the tiny baby in my arms, the block that had held me hostage, for the last year, began to lift, filling my head with years of memories. I saw Bridget and Shay's wedding in Ireland, the gorgeous rainbow, shimmer dress I wore when I was Bridget's maid of honour and Sam's rainbow suit as Shay's best man. I saw Samantha being born with a head of flame red hair, I saw Sam retiring and being inducted into the football hall of fame, Hamish and Sven adopt a baby girl, Kate's business taking off globally, New Years Eve in New York where I thought Sam was going to propose but didn't, moving back to Australia at the beginning of the pandemic but unfortunately that was where my memory came to a shuttering halt.
A new fear began to build inside me when my brain was screaming at me that I knew who tried to kill me but I couldn't picture who it was, only the threat they fired my way in the month before it happened. 'You took everything from me and I'm going to make you regret it.' Their voice familiar but I just couldn't place it.
