three weeks early.’
‘What a good job you stayed with us,’ Hattie told her and took charge. ‘This is no time to be on your own.’
Millie’s pains were getting worse and she could think of nothing else. She was scared stiff of giving birth but thanked her lucky stars that help was at hand. It was Hattie who called a taxi and took her to the hospital. Her baby girl was born that night, weighing six pounds four ounces. She named her Sylvie and was delighted to hear the doctors say her baby was healthy and normal in every way.
Millie knew all newly delivered mothers had a two-week stay in hospital to ensure the baby was thriving and they had sufficient rest. The hospital almoner came to see her to ask how she would pay, and feeling humiliated all over again Millie had to explain her circumstances and say she’d been living on the charity of others for the last few weeks.
The almoner told her she would put her down as a charity case and the hospital would provide free treatment. She was relieved that Peter Maynard would not be asked to put his hand in his pocket for her yet again, but found having to rely on the charity of others very hard. She had to get back to work as soon as she could, but how could she do it when she had a baby to care for? She was in an impossible situation and it terrified her. She could think of little else.
The following day, a vicar came round to talk to the patients. She didn’t know him but he seemed to know something of her circumstances. He was kind and sympathetic and suggested she think seriously about having her baby adopted.
‘I have thought about it but I feel it would be wrong,’ she said through her tears. ‘I want to keep her and bring her up myself.’ It was what her mother had done for her, wasn’t it?
‘You should think of the baby’s needs not your own,’ he told her gently. ‘Would your baby have a better life with an older married couple who can’t have children of their own? They would be able to give her a good home, a settled home, and they would love her as much as you do.’ He left her a card giving his name and telephone number and told her to get in touch if she changed her mind and needed his help.
Millie spent two terrible hours with her head buried in her pillows, torn to shreds in indecision. Should she keep her baby or give her up for adoption? If only her mother had lived long enough to see Sylvie, she would have been such a help and comfort.
She was no nearer to making up her mind when Sylvie woke up. She was due for a feed and began to whimper. Millie picked her out of her cot and hugged her. Sylvie opened her big round eyes and stared up into her face and Millie made her decision. She couldn’t possibly give her up.
An hour later, the almoner came back to the ward to give her a parcel of baby clothes and a dozen napkins. They were not new but there was still plenty of wear in them. Millie accepted them with yet more gratitude. She’d made the right decision and was pleased her baby would have some clothes to wear when she went out. She’d cope somehow.
Hospital visiting was strictly limited to two hours on Wednesday and Sunday afternoons, and for new fathers half an hour between seven and seven thirty on the other evenings. Hattie came on Wednesday afternoons and the girls on Sundays, bringing little gifts for the baby.
‘What a way to spend your birthday,’ Valerie laughed. ‘We’ve brought your presents as you’d gone before we gave them to you.’
Millie unwrapped them with a lump in her throat, feeling she didn’t deserve such affection. There was a book from Valerie and chocolate from Helen. ‘Thank you,’ she choked, ‘you’re both very kind.’
Helen said, ‘Although you weren’t there we had the special dinner to celebrate, it was roast chicken. Hattie had it all prepared and we wished you a happy birthday.’
Millie couldn’t stem her tears when they’d gone. She longed for her mother, and she couldn’t begin
‘What a good job you stayed with us,’ Hattie told her and took charge. ‘This is no time to be on your own.’
Millie’s pains were getting worse and she could think of nothing else. She was scared stiff of giving birth but thanked her lucky stars that help was at hand. It was Hattie who called a taxi and took her to the hospital. Her baby girl was born that night, weighing six pounds four ounces. She named her Sylvie and was delighted to hear the doctors say her baby was healthy and normal in every way.
Millie knew all newly delivered mothers had a two-week stay in hospital to ensure the baby was thriving and they had sufficient rest. The hospital almoner came to see her to ask how she would pay, and feeling humiliated all over again Millie had to explain her circumstances and say she’d been living on the charity of others for the last few weeks.
The almoner told her she would put her down as a charity case and the hospital would provide free treatment. She was relieved that Peter Maynard would not be asked to put his hand in his pocket for her yet again, but found having to rely on the charity of others very hard. She had to get back to work as soon as she could, but how could she do it when she had a baby to care for? She was in an impossible situation and it terrified her. She could think of little else.
The following day, a vicar came round to talk to the patients. She didn’t know him but he seemed to know something of her circumstances. He was kind and sympathetic and suggested she think seriously about having her baby adopted.
‘I have thought about it but I feel it would be wrong,’ she said through her tears. ‘I want to keep her and bring her up myself.’ It was what her mother had done for her, wasn’t it?
‘You should think of the baby’s needs not your own,’ he told her gently. ‘Would your baby have a better life with an older married couple who can’t have children of their own? They would be able to give her a good home, a settled home, and they would love her as much as you do.’ He left her a card giving his name and telephone number and told her to get in touch if she changed her mind and needed his help.
Millie spent two terrible hours with her head buried in her pillows, torn to shreds in indecision. Should she keep her baby or give her up for adoption? If only her mother had lived long enough to see Sylvie, she would have been such a help and comfort.
She was no nearer to making up her mind when Sylvie woke up. She was due for a feed and began to whimper. Millie picked her out of her cot and hugged her. Sylvie opened her big round eyes and stared up into her face and Millie made her decision. She couldn’t possibly give her up.
An hour later, the almoner came back to the ward to give her a parcel of baby clothes and a dozen napkins. They were not new but there was still plenty of wear in them. Millie accepted them with yet more gratitude. She’d made the right decision and was pleased her baby would have some clothes to wear when she went out. She’d cope somehow.
Hospital visiting was strictly limited to two hours on Wednesday and Sunday afternoons, and for new fathers half an hour between seven and seven thirty on the other evenings. Hattie came on Wednesday afternoons and the girls on Sundays, bringing little gifts for the baby.
‘What a way to spend your birthday,’ Valerie laughed. ‘We’ve brought your presents as you’d gone before we gave them to you.’
Millie unwrapped them with a lump in her throat, feeling she didn’t deserve such affection. There was a book from Valerie and chocolate from Helen. ‘Thank you,’ she choked, ‘you’re both very kind.’
Helen said, ‘Although you weren’t there we had the special dinner to celebrate, it was roast chicken. Hattie had it all prepared and we wished you a happy birthday.’
Millie couldn’t stem her tears when they’d gone. She longed for her mother, and she couldn’t begin
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