False Pink Bundle I can’t for a moment consider The loss that you endure Like others I’m afraid to say I’ve stayed away from your door It’s not because I’m scared or uncaring It’s only because I don’t want to expose Your already shattered feelings And no need to voice again, The pain you already know. For one brief moment in time You had your hearts desire The gamut of emotions raged Through you like a fi re Excitement, joy, sorrow and grief Bewilderment and anger too All have shaken you like a leaf And sliced your heart in two You have a little angel When you wanted a little girl God works indeed in mysterious ways As your destiny begins to unfurl I wish I knew the answer Why you’ve had to bear such pain But I’m only a useless mortal And I seek the truth in vain A rose is a rose in June And also in December And I’ll never see one again But that I will remember Petal soft skin sweetly smelling fresh A downy head upon a pillow Pink bundled into loves parcel A baby’s breath upon my neck To my darling sister, I can’t give you anything except My love and a few words from my heart Helen Gilsenan xxxx Sweet Patrick, Beautiful Patrick, Our Patrick We will convalesce With your untouchable purity of mind Sweet Patrick, we will walk on Never forgetting how preciously and unique you are Beautiful Patrick, you will never be lonely Your brother held your hand on earth And past relatives are holding you in their arms in Heaven Our Patrick, remember our love for Daire Mirroring our love for you Every time we look into Daire’s eyes We will see you too. Innocent Patrick, we will look forward to meeting you again The sun will set but we wont forget. Elaine Flynn- Hogan To Beth Rose God made the world and all we see and are and have and do, And to make us better people, Beth, God made you, God gave you a little time; your never saw the sun, Or sucked or cried or laughed or spoke or run. And we, who had great hopes for you amid this world of strife, Must thank the Lord for giving us you lovely little life He gave you perfect human form, so beautiful and still, And it is very hard for us to understand his will. Your mother felt your every move; the scan could see you clearly Your proud and grieving Mam and Dad so love you very dearly Gods moves in such mysterious ways we do not understand But yours is love and mercy Lord and might is your hand Dear Beth you came at Easter tide when everything is growing And God’s creation beautiful and all the farmers sowing, And all the wonders of the world, you would have loved to see, Like primroses and little lambs and leaves upon the tree. You came to us in Holy Week, when we who’d better be, Remember Jesus love for us, who died to set us free And we remember too his words, to let the children come, To nestle in His bosom and He will bring them home So sleep dear little one in peace, may angels guard your rest, It’s easy to imagine you in Heaven with the Blest. Written by Beth Roses Grandfather isands newsletter 61

False Finding John…. From the Cradle to the Grave, Behind Enemy Lines, Finding Forester, Silence Of The Lambs……. when I considered a title for this piece all of the above words were in my head. Not that the stories behind their titles are similar to mine but they could suitably describe a time here in Ireland of inhumane proportions which should be considered alongside other human rights issues. I am a woman, mother and wife, at a ripe and mature age of 70 years. I now have the freedom to speak out. I have paid my dues to society and now it is time for me. I lived a tough life as most of us did in the early years. Our lives were harder as women and mothers. Few women of my generation were articulate, we learned from our mothers or each other. We managed differently because we did not have a choice. Our ‘ coping’ was suppressed alongside much that we did to get by in a time where they were little or no facilities to be women or mothers. No domestic appliances to make life at home that little bit easier. No disposable waste, no disposable income. Wash and scrub everything and anything with spared water heated in pots and pans. Exhausted with life’s coping but so ‘ lucky’ it was not the place to complain. And we didn’t. Giving birth in Ireland up to 20 years ago was indeed on paral-lel with stories you now hear and read about of abuse both at a physical and verbal level compared to any. I have 7 children and I had seven children. Six are here to enrich my daily life and my fourth baby John died at birth. I am lucky to be able to say my other six children survived the awfulness of childbirth, lack of understanding of what it was all about and medical knowledge that surpassed any torture chamber. Animal’s were treated better and I have seen that to be true. We were spoken to as if we were brain dead it was almost as if we should have apologised for any inconvenience caused. My blood boils at my memories of that time and the hardest thing about it is that it was mostly women who were responsible for the harshness. I could write a book about my seven experiences of childbirth and everyone would think I was making it up and that is what is so unbelievable about that time in Ireland. Ask any mother of my generation what their experiences of pregnancies and childbirth and see for yourself. It has taken me forty years to break the silences that live inside me. I didn’t understand why until I had more freedom in my life to express. Being a mother leaves us with little time for ourselves or certainly it did in my day. As life went on and my children were reared and I found the confi dence to say I did a good job I realised it was now my turn to put myself on the map! Time also made me realise that I had never been given a chance to stop and feel. I couldn’t, it wasn’t allowed. I must explain otherwise you’ll think I’m cracked!! I had three children almost within a year of each other because at that time that’s how it was for most women who were mar-ried. I had a good husband but we didn’t talk about planning a family because that would have been unheard of at the time. Most of us took our chances and were ‘ blessed’ when another baby was on the way. I was exhausted with three babies at home, one sleepless night after another, hand washing all our clothes and up to 20 nappies a day. I had to walk to a well twice a day for water and carry buckets back to the house for all our uses of it each day. We had a dry toilet outside so that used water too. My neighbours were just as poor and I say that comparing it to today’s standards. We robbed Peter to pay Paul and that was the way of life at that time. Juggling was an art form and most mothers excelled at it. We didn’t even speak about our despair at times because it was the way and no other. When my third child was six months old I discovered I was pregnant again. Hand on my heart, my fi rst thoughts were how will we manage ?, how will I manage? Months passed before I ventured to the hospital, as I knew the welcome I would get and it never felt very welcoming. Towards the end of the preg-nancy I felt very tired and for some reason nervous about the delivery. My baby was due on the 4th March but in those day no one really paid any heed to dates … in most cases we were left until we went ourselves. In this case I visited the hospital the week of the 4th but the doctor said there was nothing hap-pening and sent me home. Come back in two weeks unless we see you in the mean time. On the 15th March I woke with the crying of my other little one during the night and while nursing her I felt numbness inside of me. Life was still unlike sleeping. I was alarmed and frightened. No one those days had a phone or car. I sat through the night until daybreak and walked down the road to the local shopkeeper who kindly allowed me to use his phone and I called the hospital. They said “ I suppose you better come in”. My husband, like most, was up and off to work at 6.30 am, on a push bike and would not return until after 6.30 in the evening. There was no way of contacting him throughout the day – no mobile phones then. Most employers did not consider preg-nancy or delivery of babies as any big deal and most dads did not get any time off event when everything went okay. I went home got my other children up, dressed and brought them on the bus to my mothers and then journeyed on the bus to the hospital on my own. In those days it would have been unheard of for your husband to go with you and I’m not sure event if it was an option that he would have been there. I ar-rived in the hospital a very frightened and weary twenty four year old mother. My experiences in this same hospital in the past were cruel; something inside me told me that this was to be different again. I was admitted. It was a lifetime before anyone checked me out. I knew by the expressions on the faces of those that examined me that they knew something was wrong but no one said anything. I asked continually for reassurance that my baby was okay but no one listened. They mumbled around me I was left alone, uncared for and felt really scared. Some long time later a doctor appeared and engaged in more mumbling with the Sister at the foot of my bed. He turned to me and in a hard tone delivered to me the news that my baby was dead. Asked me if I had others at home and said “ well they’ll keep you going.. won’t they” Nothing was explained to me from there on. I was numbed to silence by fear and ignorance. I was even afraid to cry. I remember the Sister saying that they were going to ‘ bring on’ the baby and some how I thought that meant that everything was normal. I was fourteen hours in labour. There are no words to describe such pain and despair. The comments were inhumane. “ This will teach you to control yourselves in the future,” “ Like rabbits you are”, “ Don’t look isands newsletter 62