SA

It was to be a long 16 days of waiting until finally things got moving. On the 24th of September Jools’ close friend Faith arrived at 6pm from Kenya and it must have been the last piece of the preparation that needed to fall into place because at 8pm that same evening, the contractions started.

The mood in the house was electric, so long the waiting had raised the excitement but all the business was carried out in hushed tones and soft voices. The contractions started regular and strong every 3 to 4 minutes from the very beginning, we both just lay on the bed and I massaged Jools’ lower back between contractions. I was so nervous at this time and really not sure how things were going to progress so I called Raven (the midwife) and Andy (the Doula) who arrived at 10pm. Raven did a few checks and Andy and myself started to work to create a ‘bubble of oxytocin’ around Jools. It was just really about being totally focused round her and breathing together to shut off the outside world and any external stresses that could distract Jools.

	OK, border crossing into South Africa. Is every country in Africa paying attention? especially you, Congo, sit down, face front and tune in. When you arrive at the SA border post you are given a piece of paper with four boxes labelled 1, 2, 3 and 4. In front of you are four doors with huge numbers painted 1, 2, 3 and 4. Enter door 1 and get passport stamp, 2 for customs, 3 for carnet, and 4 for police check. Once you have 4 stamps on your slip of paper you can enter the country, simple, easy, quick.


					I wondered if entering our last country we would notice any major differences as Namibia and South Africa have always been closely related, but we were in for some real magic. Crossing the Orange River at the border we entered ‘that place with all the flowers’ as it was to be called for the next two weeks, but the South Africans knew it as Namaqualand. Our timing was also perfect as this year the flower season had started early, It was almost like a triumphant personal welcome and congratulations for our wonderful trip. The contrast to the dry dusty scrub of Angola and Namibia was astounding, as first the road side verges and then the fields and mountains were painted in orange, yellow and pink. We were both quite in awe as we had never heard of this phenomenon before but felt very lucky to have passed through when we did.





	Our first night in SA we stopped in a small town called Kamieskroon and forgoing the obvious campsite option we were seduced by the sign for the ‘cosy mountain’ camp site. Peter and Estelle Ella owned a small b&b farm house that oozed homely charm (cosymountain@mweb.co.za). The plots for camping were nestled into an area of rocks over the fields so we backed up on a small slope to allow for the bump start and Jools put the dinner on. I spent another evening pissing about with the carburettors, points and timing, vowing never to buy a petrol engine vehicle ever again. In the morning we were only able to get the truck rolling with the aid of a jacking strap and failed miserably to bump start the truck. Thoroughly pissed off I marched across the fields and returned with Peter on a tractor. We manage to extract the truck from the campground but now no amount of towing would bring the beast to life.

			Peter and Estelle were so lovely and told us not to worry about camping fees but to stay as long as we needed to fix the truck. Jools got her big round tummy out in the sun and I worked on the carburettors, managing to plug a massive hole in the side of one with a metal plug.

This seemed to sort the major problem, but we opted to stay for a second night after being invited to dinner for the evening.

The food was simple, ‘Russians’ (sausages) and chips but it was the array of alcoholic drinks that accompanied the meal that will be remembered. Beer and wine but also figs in brandy, peaches in whiskey, and as we still had some left the obligatory sloe gin. Jools steered as I weaved back to the truck but I do remember the amazing stars and moonlight.

	In the morning we were on our final leg to Cape Town. We were tired and fed up with the truck but it was still moving and we felt that the end was near. A wave of emotion flooded through me and my eyes started to mist as we caught our first sighting of table mountain.



								We squeezed each others hands and felt the victorious bubble building with each kilometre closer to the Cape, only to have it burst with a dramatic bang from the engine before the truck rolled to a dead stop. Life couldn’t be so cruel surely, to fall so short after 25,000km was unthinkable.

	We dragged out the seats and engine cover expecting the worst, oil and engine guts. In 2002 after travelling 5000km around Kenya and Uganda in a little Suzuki LJ80 on the last leg from Nairobi to Mombassa one of the pistons blew a hole in the side of the engine, robbing us of our triumphant home-coming. This time however, we were so relieved to find all that had happened was the ‘dizzy cap’ had snapped off the distributor, causing a huge backfire before cutting the power. A little bush mechanics soon got us rolling again as I used tie wraps to secure the cap and with one last bump start we completed the last few kilometres. It was strange to be nose to tail in traffic again surrounded by all the trappings of a major western cityscape but we beamed in glorious pride as the locals smiled and waved at our odd looking beat up truck with its Scottish number plates hinting at the adventures we had been through.

				It was always an idea of ours that once we reached South Africa we might settle for a few years and start a family. What the plan didn’t include was that Jools would already be eight months pregnant when we arrived and so we really needed to sort a few things out. After a very brief stopover in Cape Town we drove east across the Cape to meet friends who had settled a couple of years earlier in a place called Wilderness. As well as being an incredibly beautiful area nestled in the Garden Route, Wilderness has a very ‘Californian’ feel to it.

	Many people from South Africa and also the rest of the World have been seemingly drawn here and are living a more holistic life. After a few braais and evenings at the local market we soon met lots of great people with an infectious zest for life. Jools really wanted a home birth and if possible a water birth but being our first we wondered if we would be able to get the support we needed. After our friends Dale and Sasha introduced us to Dr John Morley (the local doctor) everything seemed to just fall into place. We rented a house on the beach in Sedgefield for the birth with enough room for the family and friends to visit, and through a network of wonderful people also organised a birthing pool. By the time of Julie’s due date (7th Sept) the room was ready, the grandma’s primed and the Midwife and Doula were on call.

At 12pm Jools was 7cm dilated and so it was time to take the plunge and get in the pool. This really helped the pain and over the next four hours we knelt round the pool and tried to keep the same wonderful atmosphere going and by 3am Raven felt that the cervix was dilated enough that Jools could start pushing. As each contraction came I felt a wave of emotion flowing through me and my heart was breaking to see someone I love so much feeling such pain. The support from Andy was wonderful and she guided Jools through each contraction. At 5am it seemed that things were not progressing well. Jools was getting more and more shattered and the contractions started to become continuous with no breaks to recover, Ollie was not descending and the cervix now seemed to be only 6cm. This was a huge blow to Jools since she thought that she had been so close, but now it was if she still had a huge mountain to climb.

At 6am the contractions were just one long continuous pain with no breaks at all and still Ollie refused to come down, Jools was getting weaker and more exhausted. Now it seemed our dream of a home birth was starting to disintegrate, feelings of despair and fear rose and when Raven said that it was time to go to the hospital we knew we were now on a different road. I sat in the back of Andy’s car as we drove into Knysna, every imperfection in the road sending pain waves through Jools and I choked back the emotion staying as positive as I could. It seemed so much further than it had ever been before but at 8am we arrived. Everything now was in such stark contrast to where we had come from. The soft light and ambiance replaced by the harsh bright fluorescent lights and white walls, the soft chilled music replaced by the busy chatter and hum of the hospital.

Jools sat on the bed too sore to lie down and now mentally numbed by the continuous pain. Nurses busied around strapping machines and monitors to arms and abdomen and drip lines were set up. We were fast now needing to adjust our expectations but still longing for a natural delivery. Estia the gynaecologist called an anaesthetist to administer a light epidural, another intervention we were desperate to avoid, but this would give Jools the chance to rest and recover for a couple of hours and to see if any progress was being made. At 10am, as I watched Jools lie down and begin to relax after 12 hours of intense labour, I was so thankful for medical mercies. The lights were dimmed and mood changed to one of deep introspection as Jools rested I prayed as the foetal monitor chirped away. I now knew that our dreams of the perfect natural home birth were drawing to a close and the possibility of caesarean section was now very real.

At noon, Estia explained that nothing was changing and Ollie was starting to tire, all I knew now was that it was so important to stay totally positive and though emotionally I was crumbling inside all Jools would see was her strong proud man. We now only had one option left but we made it the best one, Jools was prepped for surgery and I cried in my mum’s arms.

After I gathered myself and spoke with Estia. who was so wonderful and assuring I followed Jools into the theatre. We kept the mood positive and Jools was able to be awake thoughout. Raven and Andy and I were all in the theatre, which helped to bring the connection between all we had experienced at home and where we were now, not surrounded by strangers, but enveloped by friends.


				The beautiful sound of Ollie’s first cry was the most amazing moment and when he was squeezed under the drapes to lie on Julie’s chest he murmured with pleasure and stared wide-eyed at his new family. I knew there and then that everything had gone exactly as it should have, all that mattered was the final result.



		As Jools was recovering I sat with Ollie in the nursery, holding him skin to skin until she was back on the ward and able to hold him, and then I transferred him to his rightful place, snuggled into mum. No one can ever prepare you for this feeling, no medal or mountain, kayak or ride will ever touch on the joy I felt at this moment.