My maternity leave drew to a close and I managed to negotiate a half-day contract rather than working full-time. My mornings were spent as an executive and my afternoons were spent witnessing Jenna reach her milestones. She was an ordinary baby in many ways, except for her extreme love of words. Her language skills were remarkable, and it soon became clear she was as bright as a button. She was talking by the age of one and by 18 months had an impressive vocabulary, happily reciting intricate rhymes and songs in her gentle voice while she played.
Jenna never tired of stories. Whenever we had a visitor, she would toddle off to find a book and present it with great enthusiasm, climbing up onto the person’s lap before settling down to listen. Oh, and best you didn’t try to shorten the story … she knew every single word. We developed a nightly ritual of bedtime reading, which was a special bonding time for the three of us.
By the time Jenna was two years old, in 1996, Stu had moved away from his father’s business and into the magazine world. He was part of a young, energetic team at Touchline Media who were busy launching magazine titles like Men’s Health during the print industry’s heyday. He worked long hours helping to grow the business, but he loved it.
It was December 1996, holiday time, and I was in Plett with Jenna, both of us looking forward to Stu’s return from a business trip to New York. Sitting on a little balcony, we watched an unseasonal storm, thunder booming and lightning flashing across the skies. All of it, the wild stormy seas and seagulls swooping, had Jenna entranced. “Bunder, Mommy, bunder!” she said excitedly with wide eyes, enthralled with the world around her. “Big bunder!” she said at a particularly loud clap. With her silky smooth brunette locks with golden highlights framing her heart-shaped face, her big soft brown eyes and small but full little mouth, she was as cute as a cupcake. Cupping her little hand to her ear, she whispered conspiratorially, “Listen, Mommy, listen.”
Stu arrived upbeat and enthusiastic and my heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He knelt down so that a very excited little Jen could run into her daddy’s arms. She took him by the hand and pulled him towards the storm so that he, too, could enjoy it. We all sat on the balcony together, simultaneously soaking up the dramatic skies and his exciting stories from New York.
But I, too, had something exciting to share. Once Jen was asleep and we were alone, I pressed the small plastic tube I’d been hiding in the back pocket of my jeans into my husband’s palms: two undeniable blue stripes. It took a few seconds for the reality to sink in. When it finally did, Stu threw his arms around me in sheer delight. We were elated. Our second baby was on the way!
CHAPTER 3
Sunshine and rare disease
Jenna loved to stroke and kiss my pregnant tummy. She would listen for the “baba” and ask, “When the baba coming, Mommy? What will it look like?” or “Where will the baba sleep? With me? Will it be a girl, Mommy? Can we choose a girl, Mommy?” Then she’d press her little cherub lips up against my skin and whisper loudly but in a secretive tone: “Hello? Hello, baba? It’s Jenna here. I’m Jenna,” and wave as if the little soul could see her.
Jen loved bathtime. Water, fun, toys, nursery rhymes, bubbles and the singing of songs. One of her favourite treats was when I climbed into the bath with her. These were such delicious moments. We would light candles and wallow in the warm water together, the water nymph and the pregnant hippo. It was on just such a night, seven months into my pregnancy, when we were at opposite ends of the bath, surrounded by floating plastic ducks and letters of the alphabet that Jenna watched my large tummy with fascination as the baby’s tiny foot pushed against my skin, making a little bulge. I could see a thought forming in her mind. She took a deep breath.
“Mommy,” she asked, “where will the baby come out?” Pause. She looked perplexed. “How will it get out, Mommy?”
I thought about it for a while and then decided the truth was the only option. “Out of Mommy’s vagina, Jen,” I said quietly.
She stared at me, eyes wide in total disbelief, then covered her mouth with her hands and started to giggle. Then, slowly, as it began to dawn on her that I wasn’t joking, her little face crumpled. “Owie,” she said. “Owie, Mommy.” She clambered over my tummy and up onto my chest. She wrapped her little arms around my neck and rocked me gently. It was so damned cute and honest. I hugged her baby body into mine, breathing in her scent and holding her tight. “It will be okay, my angel,” I said. “Mommy and the baby will be okay.”
A few months later, on the 27th of August 1997, Kristin Ann Lowe, a robust blonde baby girl, arrived in the world. She’d been so active for the last four months of my pregnancy, I should have known we had a firecracker on the way. After a 16-hour labour, Kristi was born close to midnight. As I leaned forward to lift her out of my womb and onto my breast, I was completely overcome by the exquisite miracle that is new life. The depth of a mother’s love has no limits. It is exponential. It grows more intense with the birth of each new child. We had a baby girl, a perfect baby girl.
Kristi was golden. Soft gold-brown eyes, soft gold hair, long but podgy baby limbs and a distinctive big, soft “squishy” mouth. From the moment she entered the world she was active and alert, with an inquisitive and adventurous spirit. She suckled almost immediately, holding onto me with one hand. She was a ray of sunshine.
We asked Stuart’s sister Alison to be godmother to Kristi. Lovingly known as the “glitter glue” that holds our family together, Ali’s energy, enthusiasm for life and positivity are infectious. Not only does she bring a sparkle to everything she does, but she constantly brings everyone together. That’s the “glue” part. It is a gift of hers to ensure everyone in the immediate and extended family is loved, acknowledged and stays in touch with one another. Ali is a ray of pure sunshine who always knows how to find the good in life. She was the right fit for our new bundle of joy.
From day one Jenna was totally taken with Kristi. She held her, cuddled her, nurtured her and played with her constantly. She was always at her side.
It didn’t take long for Stu and me to discover that Kristi was not a good sleeper, but, even so, coping with a newborn the second time round was a whole lot easier for me. I was far more relaxed and able to take everything in my stride. We did have a good giggle when, about five weeks after bringing Kristi home, Jen came through to the bedroom and asked politely, “Mommy, could we please take her back to the hospital now?” As cute as it was, it was also revealing. As much as she loved her baby sister, having to share her mom and dad was clearly an adjustment. Mostly, though, Jen would play happily with her books and toys while I breastfed or changed nappies.
Kristi was about six weeks old when I first noticed some deep red marks on her back and behind her knees. I was worried. I called Stu to come and have a look.
“What do you think this is, my love?” I asked. He took a close look.
“I’ve no idea,” he said eventually. “A bite, or a rash maybe? Or an allergy?”
I looked at him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Don’t worry, but let’s check it out.”
Butterflies tickled my insides. I didn’t have a good feeling.
I took Kristi to our paediatrician the next day. His reaction wasn’t comforting.
“I’ve not seen this before, Gabi,” he told me. “To be honest, I’m not sure what this is.” He recommended a well-known dermatologist and arranged an appointment.
I was in her rooms two days later, cradling my new baby in my arms. Within moments the dermatologist was performing a biopsy and Kristi was crying from the pain. I did my best to calm her and then I sat down opposite the doctor.