Dawn

A bittersweet story of family life.

Dawn

 

Time held its breath for the three of us in that small maternity room and for precious moments, we clung to the present.

The past lay behind, a moment of loving conception  nine months before, and then the miracle of new life unfolding and swelling within.

We could almost hear the future tapping impatiently for us on the dark window. It would have to wait!

 

Sue sat up against the pillows exhausted. In her arms she cradled our baby.

‘Come and sit beside us Robert. We must never forget this moment.’

I sat carefully beside Sue, put my arm round her shoulder, and together we looked in rapture at our perfect tiny creation.

‘Look Sue, she’s smiling!’

‘She is.’ I wiped tears from Sue’s cheeks and then my own.

Together we took in each detail. I held her tiny hand, the perfectly formed fingers with their tiny nails. Her dainty feet with the diminutive curled toes. We examined each feature of her face, the tiniest blue eyes, a snub little nose and a petite mouth teasing us with a smile. Curls of dark hair framed her features.

‘She’s like you Robert!’ I laughed and replied, ‘that’s a relief!’

‘What will we call her Sue?’

‘Dawn Elizabeth - that’s what we decided.’

Just then, there were several loud explosions outside and we both jumped. Looking out we could see the dazzling reds, greens and blues of rockets bursting and lighting the dark sky.

We both laughed. ‘I had forgotten, it’s Guy Fawkes night.’

‘November the 5^th 1986 - we’ll never forget this night!’

 

~

 

Ten months later we were travelling south to see Grandma and Grandad. In the back of the car Dawn’s big brother Jake was strapped into his seat but he tried his best to keep his baby sister amused. The small town of Jedburgh with its park was a good place to break the journey. We spread the picnic blanket on the grass and got out the lunch.  Sue and I got up to stretch our legs. Jake shouted, ‘look mummy and daddy!’ We turned and gawped. Two year old Jake had helped his sister to her feet. He held her hand and then she wobbled forward a few steps. She stopped uncertainly, regained her balance and with a look of fierce determination took off on her own. A few yards on she flopped down and beamed with joy.

‘Did you see that look Robert?  There will be no stopping that one!’

 

That determination was there to stay. Sue and I had taken Dawn and her new bike - a fourth birthday present - to the park. Dawn had been adamant. ‘Take the stabilisers off daddy - I’m a big girl now.’

Dawn sat on the bike with that ‘just stop me’ look on her face. I held the seat gently, a little push, and we were off across the grass.

‘Pedal now Dawn.’ She made ten yards and her foot slipped. She fell, but no tears.

‘Again Dad!’ This time I held on for twenty yards and then she was off on her own. A few wobbles but she made the swings at the far side before tumbling. She was up in moments and pushed herself off this time to cycle back to us. We were both proud and a little in awe - she was unstoppable!

 

Dawn had probably inherited her stamina and determination from me but there is no doubt that Sue showed Dawn by example that you should never walk past anyone in need. Lonely or sick neighbours would be visited - it might be just for company but there would often be welcome soup or cake. On visits to the city a homeless person would be given a hot drink or something to eat. On one occasion Sue and Dawn went off to get a warm coat for a shivering beggar. If there had been some disaster a fund raising sale would be organised and Dawn would help her mum.

 

At primary school Dawn was quiet, hardworking and well behaved. She particularly excelled in creative activities like art and music. She learned the violin and played with the school orchestra. One trait that perhaps only her mum and dad could see was a bit of a stubborn streak - she knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate in using the word no. Don’t get me wrong - it was more a case of knowing her mind rather than naughtiness.

 

By the time she had been at secondary school for a couple of years Dawn was starting to blossom into an attractive young woman. Her calm and dependable nature attracted friends who knew that she would be there for them in difficult times. And then there were the boys - moths to the light but Dawn needed no help separating the wheat from the chaff!

 

As a bright and conscientious student exams proved no hurdle and she gained good grades to let her choose her university. Dawn thought long on how she should use her talents for the greatest good and finally chose a course in art therapy at Dundee. Normally pupils would stay on at school for a sixth year to add higher grades and gain maturity but after a few weeks Dawn realised ‘what am I doing here?’

 

The next night Dawn was relaxing, watching TV with her dad, when a news flash interrupted the program.

An earthquake of magnitude 8.2 with an epicentre west of Kathmandu in Nepal has caused many deaths and destruction on a massive scale. Landslides have destroyed road links leaving many villages unreachable.

 

Dawn didn’t spend long considering. ‘I’m going to help dad!’ An immediate rebuff was on his tongue, but Robert knew his daughter, and he held it. He paused at the enormity of what she was suggesting then answered. ‘Good on you girl - lets think this through.’ The three of them, google, Dawn and dad, worked into the night and came up with a plan. In the next few days she found another young volunteer called Mary and made arrangements.

 

Six hectic days later Dawn and Mary were checking through immigration at Kathmandu airport. The girls found a cheap hotel in the Thamel area of Kathmandu and reported next day to the emergency HQ of Disaster emergency committee. They were sent to help survivors at emergency accommodation which had been set up in a warehouse. In no time the shelter was crammed with traumatised victims, some injured and many having lost family members. The two girls had been thrown in at the deep end and they didn’t sink! As well as the hard work of catering to physical needs the girls did their best to comfort and reassure. At the end of their month of volunteering the girls knew that they made a difference but for the survivors it was just the beginning. Before the plane had lifted off they were both asleep.

 

Nothing was quite the same for Dawn after this experience! The six o’clock headlines had been converted into real people with real problems. She started university in the following September and was soon giving her lecturers a hard time. Woe betide them if their lectures on the theory of art therapy did not pass Dawn’s criterion of practical application.

‘With all due respect Dr Baloney, that’s claptrap!’

 

After four years she passed with top honours. Summers had been spent returning to Nepal to help several families that she had made a special connection with. Dawn initially found work as an art therapist with the NHS. She threw herself into the work, dealing mainly with patients with mental health problems. She found that their problems could be complex but Dawn found that by building up relationships and using her skills to address some of their issues she was making a difference to their lives.

 However it didn’t take Dawn long to find out that working within a large organisation could feel like being ground down in the beaureaucratic mincer.

‘Bloody reports - I can’t even find time to see the patients!’

In the event the Health Service mincer spat her out.

‘Best thing that ever happened to me!’ She told her mum and dad on a visit home. ‘I’ll never work for an organisation like that again.’  

 

By this time Dawn was sharing a flat with her partner David whom she had met on one of her trips back to Nepal. They had had clicked immediately. After lots of discussion they decided to set up their own project, working with the homeless in their city of Dundee. For months they worked long hours, finding unused property, begging for funding, finding and training volunteers but after six months they had three drop-in centres catering to the physical and social needs of the city’s homeless. Tired they certainly were but they knew they were making a difference. After three years the project had become recognised as a model of how to deliver effective help to those unlucky citizens that have fallen through the cracks of society.

 

One day in late April Dawn’s mum Sue was working in the kitchen when the door bell rang. When she opened the door she found Dawn outside.

‘Dawn, what a nice surprise! Robert - it’s Dawn!’

‘Hello mum, hi dad. I thought I should just come across to see you both.’

Sue held her daughter at arms length and suddenly realised there was just something a bit different about her - she positively glowed!

‘I’ve got some news for you both ..’ She beamed.

‘No .. you aren't are you?’ They both said.

‘Yes - I am!’

~

 

‘It’s time again Sue!’ There was really no need to remind her. We always made the same short journey in the car at this time of year and then the familiar short walk. It was always a time of reflection for us.

‘It's thirty years Robert - it’s hard not to imagine what she might have been …’ I could hear the break in her voice and we clung to each other.

We looked at the stone and read the words once again.

 

Dawn Elizabeth McDonald

Died 5^th November 1986

stillborn

A life unlived!

 

We walked slowly back through the graveyard with the bangs of the rockets exploding and dazzling fireworks lighting the sky.

Reviews

[Shannon]

I was preparing a nice little comment about needing to show us more and tell us less, so that we get attached to Dawn to make the pending tragedy more real.

Then I realized that we are actually attaching ourselves to Robert, and in this case, telling works brilliantly.

Touching and powerful reminder that a stillbirth is a real loss.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Shannon. I was a bit anxious about this tale (which posed a tricky personal dilema in relation to my own daughter!) as there is no warning about the content, however, this was the only way I could do it to retain it's punch.
Regards,
Alan

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Many a parent has had the misfortune of wondering what their child would have been like, what that child's life would have amounted to, had they only had the opportunity to live, or live a little longer ... It is unnatural for us to accept the concept of our children dying before us, much less coming into this world still born ... A very poignant tale that touches my heart ... This would have made Rod Serling a fine episode of the Twilight Zone or Night Gallery ...

[Cheyanna]

This was really beautiful to read. Being a sibling of a stillborn, it was nice reading the other side of the experience from a parent. Thank you.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for reading this. Our own experience was actually of a termination which has another range of emotions connected to it but i felt I would change the details of the story.
regards
Alan

[Alasdair Cook]

Hi Alan, This is beautiful story. I quickly realised there was going to be a sad ending, but didn't see this coming for a moment. Had to go back and read it over again.

[Kumala]

This was incredibly touching and I did not expect the ending although I was waiting for it all to come crashing down but I'm not a optimist.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks very much. I thought twice about writing this and then posting it but it is a tragedy that must affect many in different ways.
Regards,
Alan

[Tbear]

Oh how happy I am that this had a sweet full circle ending..I read through quickly wondering if we were going to have a disasterous end ..whew for the circle of life!!!
Only had trouble with one line..case of knowing you’re her mind rather than naughtiness.. couldnt understand..

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for reading this and thanks for finding that mistake. I have corrected it.
I am afraid I don't make my stories straightforward - this is usually a twist at the end. In this one the baby at the start has been born still born (not alive). The mum and dad have spent some time with their dead baby. I have given the date 5 November 1986 and mentioned to firework to link with the final section. The whole middle section represents what anyone who has lost baby for any reason is likely to do - imagine what might have been. In a way I have been misleading the reader to paint this life of the young woman being real to increase the intensity of the revelation in the final section. For the whole 30 years they had been visiting the babies grave. I'm very sorry to turn this into sad story for you.
Thanks again,
Alan

[Tbear]

well there ya go...i wanted a happy ending so much that i didnt read carefully enough.... still it is a beautiful story..am enjoyıng your wrıtıng style

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for that!
Alan

[michelle]

my gosh...the hairs on my arms are on end. i was fully prepared to praise you on raising such a beautiful intelligent helpful vivacious young woman. Beautiful writing I was enthralled by it. The ending is extremely powerful. just beautiful.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks very much for your review. There is a bit of personal history in this - not exactly as told and I am very aware of how painful this story might be for many. However they will have had to face up to their personal 'might have been'.
regards,
Alan

[alanwgraham]

I forgot to say that I based the young woman on our own daughter who is every bit as incredible.

[michelle]

well then my original congratulations stands. You've dealt with this subject with sensitivity and originality. Really enjoyed the journey it took me on.

[Duncan Brown]

Mother Mother Mother.....................

[alanwgraham]

Great - you've got it!
Regards,
Alan