It’s been a week since our newest little one arrived. He was born in the middle of our expat life in Edinburgh, at home in our rented apartment.
We’re here – and specifically in this home – through happy accident of academic opportunity and a tight student rental market. Edinburgh has long been on our list of places we’d like to live. It feels both far from familiar and close to our hearts. There’s the Presbyterian heritage connection, but it is personal, too. My mother was born here in her granny’s house, and my grandmother grew up in our current neighbourhood. This home is perfect for us – close to the university, close to the primary school, and with enough space for bookcases and family life. After almost two years, it still feels surprising how well things have worked out. Our ground-floor apartment has its own front door and a gate to the street. There are no stairs to tackle with groceries or children. There is space to sit at the window where I can watch the kids playing outside. There is space to grow a few vegetables and a few flowers, too. Blue has planted beans and he’s been watching them daily as they extend their tendrils up and up the garden wall. All these are small things, but they make it home. And now, this is the home where our newest little one was born.
“I got a man to stick it out
And make a home from a rented house
And we’ll collect the moments one by one
I guess that’s how the future’s done” Feist – Mushaboom
The house where my mother was born was also a rental house busy with children. My grandparents lived outside of town, but on a visit to the city, my gran’s doctor told her to stay the night with her mother because it wasn’t wise to get on the bus. And perhaps it wasn’t. That night, there was an air raid by the Luftwaffe and my grandmother went into labour. She laboured in her parents’ bedroom while the rest of the family were tucked away in the bomb shelter. It must have been an exciting night for her younger siblings. But perhaps the shelter wasn’t quite soundproof because the story goes that one of her brothers asked her in the morning – Did it hurt terribly, Annie?
We were unsure about having our older children at home when Plum was born. We’d made arrangements with various friends to be on stand-by sleep-over duty. But it was the middle of the night when contractions started, and the kids were asleep. When morning came and the light peeked in through the window, Beangirl woke up and knew that something exciting was happening in the house. I had reached one of those blissful spots in labour when you can rest for a while and let your heart catch up with your body. The Spouse brought her down the hall to see me. When she came through the door, her eyes were wide and almost shy with wonder. For the past few months, she had been whispering into the bulk of my belly, telling the baby all sorts of secrets. In that quiet morning space, she just looked and looked and everything felt holy. Then quietly she asked if it was just like this when she was born. And I said yes. It was hard work and wonderful, and she smiled and we loved each other. Then the Spouse led her back to her room and her brother and delivered breakfast in bed – muffins, strawberries and orange juice. A little while later, a friend collected them and then my real work started. Plum was born just before eleven o’clock.
In the week since then, I’ve been thinking about circles. Hours and days circle past me with the hands on the clock. I think about those who came before me and those who come afterwards. A week ago, I walked these neighbourhood streets, my belly round, my grandmother’s steps echoing ahead of me. It feels circular to think of my mother’s birth, my grandmother’s labour. But my mother was my grandmother’s first child so – in a strange way – I’m a little ahead of her, turning the corner, as Plum is my third baby. And I am my mother’s third child, too. Another turn. Plum’s own circling has just begun, but already he is surrounded by love. It’s his turn to begin and it’s my turn again to mother a little one. I feel circled by blessing.
So we’ve given our little Plum my grandmother’s maiden name. Something a little unusual, but it suits him well. And it suits us, too. Circumstances circle with all these happy accidents and quiet callings.
