Cheese Sandwich

By Chris Thomson

The most significant moment of my life and the thing I remember most about it is a cheese sandwich. We’re both in a room that’s a little too warm, there’s a fan blowing a light breeze and a constant sound - a whoosh whoosh that drops in and out of our awareness. I’m not sure what to do with myself, Susan’s in quite a bit of discomfort. and it started early Susan saying, “I don’t think you’ll be going to work this morning”. I’m feeling panic and a little denial but there’s no doubting it, she’s coming. There’s been a sign of meconium so we get to the hospital as quick as we can; we’re told over the phone that she might be in distress. I’m trying hard not to think too much what that might actually mean, but now it’s been hours and nothing is happening, so we’re being largely ignored. All we’ve got of her is this whoosh whoosh sound, listening for clues that everything is going to be ok. “I’m hungry” says Susan. I can be useful! I go off to ask someone what there is to eat. So what do you eat when you’re waiting for the birth of your first child? Turns out it’s a sandwich, ugly orange cheese and margarine on floppy white. Not sure why, but that seems wrong somehow. In another few hours the room will fill up with noise and people with machines, then a small, high cry and the next chapter begins. But for now there’s the stillness, the sound of a tiny heart beat and a half eaten sandwich. (whoosh whoosh sound of foetal heartbeats continues).