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all’s well

Almost chilly this morning, amazingly – I put on my usual little bit of something and then went back upstairs to put on quite a bit more. It’s just beautiful out now. Thank you, whoever you are.

I think they should name the baby Ralph. Prince Ralph. It has a nice ring. Looking at the pictures of that lovely couple in blue exiting the hospital, I remembered the day in May 1981 when I was 30, a bit younger than Kate, with my newborn wrapped in white, leaving St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver. I had just been hit with a blast of hormones so powerful that I am still recovering, and, in fact, will never recover. Happily, I could figure the job out without paparazzi – just my mother in attendance. When my husband, baby and I got home to our apartment, Mum had baked fresh scones and bought pink sweetheart roses. A wonderful time.

I wish them joy, the two of them and little Ralph.

Speaking of nice rings, my dear Sir Paul has offered free tickets to his Quebec City concert to the survivors of the Lac Megantic disaster. Now, is he a nice boy or what?

And, importantly, here’s a petition to keep the CBC free from political interference, with a funny little video to go along with it. SIGN IT, please.

I hope your summer is as sweet, so far, as this one.

P.S. Oh that poor kid. George. What a stuffy, boring name.



2 Responses to “all’s well”

  1. Well, I was out that same door just before you, Beth. My older son was born at St. Paul's on March 30th, 1981, and I think I stayed for three nights — I kept asking them to go over the bath one more time because I couldn't imagine having to do it on my own. That tiny slippery body. And, sigh, no photographers in the parking area as we manhandled that child into his carseat.

  2. beth says:

    Theresa, you and I were there only one month apart! We were the second couple to use the new birthing room, and there's a funny story about that which I'll write sometime. And me too, the bath was the most terrifying thing. Sharon Olds has a poem, "Bathing the newborn," in which she describes her baby son's body as a bowl of wet noodles. She tends to be a bit extreme, but I know what she means.

    Now my St. Paul's baby has her own baby. And on we go.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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