It was a cold winter's night in Ballarat and once again the electricity had been cut off in our house. There were ten of us: six boys and four girls. My mother would cook dinner in the open fireplace in the living room and we were never allowed to bring friends home when we had no power. My mother was a very proud woman and did her best for us all. This particular night, after dinner, I went to a friend's house just up the road to watch television with her. I stayed for a couple of hours then headed home. Walking on the opposite side of the street to our house, I had the sensational feeling of being watched. It was a dark night and the only light came from a lamppost on the corner. I thought I was letting my imagination get the better of me, as I loved to read, especially mysteries (It was nothing for me to read six or seven books a week when I was younger.)I turned to look behind me, nothing there. I looked ahead of me, nothing there. Then for some reason I looked above the house that was next door to ours, my heart pounded wildy and for a moment I was struck dumb, then fear took over and my feet never touched the ground as I raced to my house and slammed the back door behind me.
This is where I left the tale untold until fifteen years later.
 

I was twenty-one when I met my future husband and we moved around the country a lot with his work. We finally settled in Ballina on the New South Wales north coast for a couple of years and enjoyed the lifestyle that we had. The beautiful beaches and the company of many good friends we made there. After being together for five years, there was something missing from my life, a child. With the upbringing I had, I suppose you could say I was old fashioned and I had morals. I wanted to be married before I had any children.  We discussed it and about six months later we were married.

To my joy, it wasn't long before I fell pregnant. I was healthy and fit, no morning sickness, it was great. I had regular visits to my doctor and I watched what I did, nothing too strenuous except ten pin bowling. I really enjoyed playing and looked forward to my weekly outing to Lismore, which was about a twenty-minute drive.
We spent the next few months preparing for our new arrival. We were so excited, arguing if it was a boy or a girl, (although I felt it was a girl from the start) and choosing names. He wanted Jennifer for a girl but I had already chosen Cara Lee and I wasn't going to budge. The next visit to the doctor went well but he suggested I see a younger doctor, as he thought they were more up to date with modern pregnancy. So when I left the surgery that day I made the booking to see another doctor in four weeks time.
I was six and a half months gone by this time and everything was wonderful.
Then came the dream.
 
It didn't bother me the first time I had it, I didn't like the name I dreamt I had to call her so I put it out of my mind. Not so the second time I had the same dream. I woke up frightened, sweating and shaking uncontrollably. I had never experienced anything like it in all my life. I sat up and hugged my knees, denying the name. "No! I don't like that name, I am not calling her that! I just don't like it."  I eventually calmed down and tried to get more sleep. Finally I dozed off, never to have the dream again. I kept thinking about it for the next few days but still didn't change the name I had picked out for her. I soon managed to put the dream out of my mind completely. There were more important things to contend with than some stupid dream.
On my next visit to the doctor, I saw a much younger doctor. His name was Ross and I felt very comfortable with him and he was nice. He asked a few questions and also asked if I had had a scan done. When I replied no, he told me I should have had one done by now and he booked me in for one the following Monday morning.
This was exciting. I would be able to see my baby on the monitor and I was so looking forward to it. My husband couldn't be with me so I went alone. I played Tenpin on Mondays so I would be able to play before having the scan done at noon. I left the bowling centre at a quarter to twelve and walked to the surgery. I felt so happy yet as I neared the surgery my mood seemed to change. Something in the back of my mind told me "Something is not right. Something is wrong". I started to shake and fight back tears yet I couldn't work out why.
 
I entered the surgery and waited my turn with anticipation. Soon enough my name was called and I was led to a changing room, where I donned a white surgical gown then I was led into the room to have the scan done.
I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax as the image appeared on the monitor.  The nurse explained a couple of things then I asked her if everything was okay. She replied that they are not allowed to say anything and that it must come from my doctor. I didn't really think anything of her remark and let her finish the scan.  I waited for the xrays after I was dressed so I could take them back to my doctor. When I left the surgery again I felt teary. I went back to the bowling alley to get a lift home and then went straight to the doctor's surgery. I handed the receptionist the xrays and asked if the doctor could have a look at them straight away. She left for a few minutes and when she returned she said to ring him around two o'clock.
Just a few minutes after two, I rang the doctor. The receptionist put me on hold while she spoke to him and then she came back on line and said the doctor was very busy at the moment and he would ring me back around five. I thanked her and put down the phone, feeling totally disheartened. I couldn't understand all the emotions I had been feeling all day and put it down to just being an expectant mum-to-be.
Later in the day my life was shattered.
 
The phone rang at ten minutes past five and I apprehensively answered it. It was my doctor. His next words would stay with me for the rest of my life. "What time will your husband be home? I would like to talk to you both" I told him around six, six thirty then hung up the phone and cried until my husband came home.
The doctor arrived about seven and we showed him into the living room. I could tell by the look on his face that it was not good news and I believe it was hard for him to tell us what he had to. He made sure we were both sitting down before he spoke.
"I am so sorry to tell you, but your child has a severe case of spina bifida. The severest case: her brain is on the outside. I am sorry, there is nothing we can do for you." My husband and I held each other, not saying anything for a while. Then I asked the doctor if he was sure there was nothing they could do out of sheer desperation. He assured me there was nothing. She would live for three to five days if I went full term or have her aborted, which would mean that she would probably die during the birth.  The decision was ours alone.
I rang my mother who now lived nearly two thousand miles away and she came straight up to be with me. The decision was the hardest thing I have ever had to do and for the next two weeks I thought of nothing else.  Ross sent me to a specialist so that maybe I would understand it a bit more, but the doubts were left in my mind for months to come. "What if they were wrong? How could they be right? This is my child. This can't be happening!"   I finally decided that it would be best to have her brought forward because I don't think I could have beared to have held her for no longer than three to five days and then have her taken away from me.  Ross said he would inform the hospital and they would let me know when I could go in.
 
It was my birthday and my mother and I were going out for lunch, although we didn't feel like celebrating. We were on our way out the door when the phone rang. It was the hospital. "You can come in now. We have a bed for you"   
"Happy Birthday to me" I thought as I hung up the phone.
 
Thirty-six hours later I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Dark curly hair, fair skin and blue eyes, my Snow White as I nicknamed her, left us. The nurse took her away and I never saw her again. I found it very hard when I was told that I would have to register her birth then her death, I couldn't understand why, but was informed it had to be done because she was more thirty two weeks. I never went to her funeral. I couldn't handle it so my husband went without me.
It wasn't until four or five months later while I was alone, that I thought about the dreams I had while I was carrying her. Then suddenly I recalled the event on that cold winter's night many years before. Was there a connection? Was there some significance in both the occurences? Do I believe it was more than my imagination? Many strange things happen that we don't have answers for.
 
As I looked above the house next to ours, I saw her. Above the rooftop in long blue robe, white veil, hands with upturned palms reaching down and she was smiling at me. My heart pounded wildly. For a moment I was struck dumb then fear took over and my feet never touched the ground as I raced to my house slamming the back door behind me.
The dreams, the name I didn't want to call the child that was taken from me.........Mary
My name:  a derivative form of Mary
I believe in strange occurences.      Do You?
 
ENDNOTE:  I have moved on since the sad loss of our firstborn and I think of her quite often, wondering what she would be like if she was here today. Not dwelling on it, I look at my two wonderful teenage children and know I am blessed.