CHAPTER 23 – BIRTH OF GIDEON

Somewhere in the internet maze, the labyrinth of Facebook posts, (a weakness of mine to dabble in) someone wrote that a child who is born immediately after a previous miscarriage is a special soul.
But aren't all souls special?

Without delving into the private ups and downs of my first marriage, it was an important and unforgettable part of my life, both during the marriage, the divorce, and up to this very day when my first-born son arrived. I was there seeing the incredibly messy, painful, totally miraculous birth of another human being; a human being which my late wife and I brought to this world out of the incredible love we had for each other. Yes, I know, I know, we divorced, but that was many years later. At that moment, the intensity of feelings that a father goes through is mind-blowing. No, I do not belittle what a mother goes through!
How could I ever do that?
Carrying a child for 9 months and then, the act of birth itself, takes more than mere courage.
In in my tribe, in our daily morning prayers, we have one blessing which goes like this:

"Blessed art thou, Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who hast not made me a woman."

Misogynistic huh? Yes, I long thought it was a bit one-sided. Give the hard work to a woman instead of to us men. Hurray!

But the night my son was born, that very moment, this prayer took on a very different perspective. Do you know why men don't get pregnant? You know why men and women are different in this most spectacular part of life?

Because men are not strong enough to carry a new life inside and then go through the excruciate pains of giving birth!

I have often said, by way of a joke:

"If it were men having to get pregnant and giving birth, there would be no population explosion; I’d fall for it once ..... and only if I was blind drunk!"

Yup, that is definitely misogynistic!

My excuse was that I had never seen an actual birth…. and so never went past the surface understanding of such a colossal event.

Every man should attend a birth, though preferably not that of his own wife because it is a messy affair and can shatter the romantic idyll and even sexual feelings can be forgotten for a while after the event. It is an educational experience at every level, physical and spiritual.

And to think that women have a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, baby!

If there is any inequality between the two genders it is here that we can see which is the stronger, which is more resilient, which has a true courage!

As I was telling you, my son was born at about 6 in the morning. After the midwife, I was the first to hold him and the feeling of joy, even of hypocritical  achievement, is hard to describe.
Why hypocritical?
Because other than a few passionate moments 9 months before the event, what the hell did I do to bring this baby into the world? And yet I was so full of pride and happiness as I placed him on his mother's bosom where he belonged.

Slam bang, thank you Ma’am, the baby is born so run along, see you at visiting times!

I walked down Hospital Steps when all Gibraltar slept. It was too early to phone my parents or my in-laws, too early to do much ….. and yet too late to go back to bed. I walked down City Mill Lane and there was the refuse collection lorry with the workers, banging dustbins and calling out to each other while the lorry belched out the usual black exhaust and left a trail of non-fragrance behind it. One of the dustbin men was a TEOCARD holder and as the lorry pass by he saw me and called out:

"Teo, que, picha?"

I could not help myself and blurted back:
"UN NIñO, un niño!"
He looked at me askance.

Well, I was bursting to tell someone, anyone, didn't I?

Ok …ok… ok… but this is not about my first born, nor even my second, a beautiful daughter to whom I immediately felt very protective towards. If I was ecstatic with the birth of my son, I was ecstatic and simultaneously protective when she was born. This story however, is not about them, not about how vicariously jubilant I felt when they were born.

Two years later, after my daughter was born, and two years after that my wife got pregnant again. Though not particularly planned, it was by no means unwelcome.

About 3 months into the rather ordinary pregnancy, I had a dream.
It was a terrible dream!
I am not into dreams or signs or Twilight Zone mumbo jumbo. I do not believe in horoscopes nor in any of those esoteric confusions that are so popular. But the dream scared the proverbial out of me!

In my dream I saw the baby inside my wife.
It was a boy, with blonde hair, blue eyes and very fair skin.
But in my dream the baby was terribly deformed, especially the face was very disfigured!

I did not want to mention it to anyone, least of all my wife, but I could not keep the .... unease …. inside of me. I did not want to tell my father, he was very much a "meat and potatoes" man, not given to airy-fairy ideas.

So, I turned to my mother. She was a deeply religious woman, yet very down to earth at the same time. In a quiet moment when we were alone, I told her about the dream. I could see that she was quite disturbed.

"Halom tov, halom tov, halom tov" (something along the lines of 'it was a good dream' repeated three times) she intoned.

In our traditions, it is not just the portent of the dream itself, but also its interpretation that affects the outcome such a dream can bring about. So, when one is told of a dream, one repeats 3 times 'it was a good dream' and in that way interpreting it in goodness, in the hope that that will be the final outcome of it.

She also told me not to mention a word to anyone. I did not, but two weeks later my wife suffered a miscarriage. I was told at the hospital when I asked that it was a boy.  The baby/embryo was seriously disfigured and could not have gone to term.

We were still young, my wife and I. I was 34 and she was 29. We could think about other children later.

I arranged for a holiday for us few months after that, a family holiday to Florida, Disney World, ostensibly for my two children. But in fact, so that the holiday would help her put the sad event behind us.

So, to London and from there, boarded the plane to Miami, a trip of, I think, 9 hours at least. We were concerned how our children would tolerate being strapped into a plane seat for so many hours. Both, but in particular my daughter, were very rambunctious ..... and, as if that was not enough, this was going to be their first flight …..and to Disney World no less!

The seating arrangement was not particularly good, with two of us on one side of the aisle, next to the window, and two on the centre seats on the other. As you can imagine, with two excitable children and 9 hours locked inside an aluminium cylinder, there was a lot of “musical chairs” going on between the four seats we occupied...... only without the music. The passenger next to us in the centre row was a young man, very simpatico and with endless patience..... and was wearing a pristine-white, one-piece overall, very fashionable in those days. Our children talked to him not least because he had a good stock of Mini Toblerone chocolates he kept giving then. Children.......chocolates and a white overall. I can see you are imagining what did eventually happen. The young man ended up with streaks of melted Toblerone decorating his overall like a Kandinsky painting, except all in brown monochrome!

But a 9-hour flight will sap the energy of any child, ours were no exception. On the rueful advice of Dr Reggie Valarino, we gave them a spoonful each of Phenergan elixir for children, the side effect of which was making them sleepy. While they slept I sat next to our fellow traveller and offered him profuse apologies ..... and a box of wet wipes.
We exchanged business cards and Raul Antonio Garcia Gonzalez, for such was his name, told me he was from a family of wealthy hoteliers in Mexico and was returning after a year out in Europe before joining the family business. His parents, sister and brother were waiting for him at Miami airport and they were going to drive back to Mexico in his father's new S600 Merc. At the time all I knew about Mercs was that they were well beyond my means.

Miami Airport made us realise how truly small our Gibraltar airport was… and even the new one today, by comparison, still is. Amid the hustle and bustle we said our goodbyes and we collected our rental car from Avis.

America was an incredible experience!
Truly it is the New World in so many ways when compared to Europe! I must say it wasn't just the children who enjoyed Disney World but my wife and I too. I will not bore you with all my holiday snaps, other than to tell you, that as luck would have it, we even experienced a couple of days of a real hurricane. Windows locked, doors manned, we were told to stay inside the hotel and for most of the time the electricity was cut off too because of the lightning. The children were quite happy. There were loads of pinball machines and similar games that they could play in the supervised hotel play area. Meanwhile my wife and I relaxed in the hotel bedroom enjoying all the facilities they offered.

And when it was over and we boarded the plane back London. Was it Gatwick or Heathrow? I cannot remember. I was hit with a jet lag that had me down and out until we boarded the flight to Gibraltar …and beyond!

A couple of months later we realised my wife is pregnant again. Two days locked inside a luxury hotel will do that, you understand. The rejoicing was muted, cautious and prayerful. Thank Heaven, the nine months were as happily humdrum as any normal pregnancy can be. In May, Gideon was born. He was blonde, blue-eyed and fair skin….. exactly as in the dream but ..... thank God, perfect in every way!

I returned home after the birth and checking my mailbox, saw a white envelope with Mexican stamps.... and with a black border all around it. The date stamp was 9 months earlier. Apparently, just "Gibraltar" on the envelope was not enough and it had travelled around till some postal bright spark realised where Gibraltar was.
I opened it.
There was a white card, also with a black border around it, an invitation (if you can call it that) to attend the funeral of ....

Raul Antonio Garcia Gonzalez .... our 22 year old fellow traveller.!!

There was also handwritten letter, also dated 9 months earlier, and my business card attached.

This is what the letter said: (in Spanish but translated into English here)

"Esteemed Sr. David Bentata,

We do not know each other but I found this, your business card in my son Raul's wallet and I assume you were at least a business associate, and perhaps even a friend.
I have to inform you that on the way back from Miami we suffered a terrible car accident. A farm tractor ploughed into the side of my husband's new car and we fell down a steep embankment. The car turned over several times with all of us inside flung about everywhere.
When we were rescued, Raul, my youngest, my heart, my life .... was already dead.
His neck was broken.
Nothing could be done for my Raulito.

If this reaches you in time and you can come over, we would be honoured to have you among us as family. Raul did not make friends easily and despite a whole year in Europe, yours was the only card we found, so I am assuming you were good friend.

yours etc......"
Heart-breaking letter to read.
How much more so for a mother to write.

Where did the soul of Raul go, after its journey in this life was cut off so suddenly, such an untimely death ....?

Why did the letter not reach us until that day  .... the day Gideon was born?

Aaaahhh ... but I am dreaming again ...