programme

Never in my life had I endured a more stark reality check on the precariousness of life and relationship than at the birth of our first child. Born healthy on the night of 4 January 2016, though she was very late to the party and a raft of serious implications for the parents to be followed. The baby seemed to have little desire to dislodge from the cosy shelter of its primary inner world, eventually making the journey after four long nights in labour and a protracted birthing process.

The relief was, however, short lived as the lengthy delay between waters breaking and delivery time resulted in an infection that led to a severe postpartum hemorrhage for Rebecca when trying to birth the placenta. She lost many many litres of blood, and after some hesitancy from the doctors, Rebecca was wheeled away to theatre. That night was one of great uncertainty for me as the disturbing thought that Rebecca might not survive played out over and over in my mind.

It was sometime the following day I was informed Rebecca was stable in the Intensive Care Unit. We were not able to visit for some days and as time went by calming the new born girl by hand feeding with syringes became increasingly difficult. When we were able to make our initial short half hour visits, a nurse and I would wheel unnamed 'baby Rylands' down endless fluorescent lit corridors from one end of the hospital to the other. The first visit was a complete shocker, Rebecca all wired up, very weak and damaged. She showed great courage in the early days and bounced back quickly enough considering the physical trauma she suffered.

I don't propose that the reoccurring episodes of terror Lily experienced for years after she was born relate solely back to her first hours and days (we have been led us to explore parts of ourselves and our histories). Whatever the case, it is fair to say that we would all eventually be exposed to the often indescribable and unpredictable effects of our personal response to the trauma. For the parents this experience shattered our ideas of control, things going the way we would like, leading us in a round about way to confront our own frailty when confronting the fact that all things come apart, and can do so in an instant. We came to learn that the exploration of our darkest shadows is a slow and deep process that carries a unique rhythm and texture for each one of us. Over time the relationship with the disappointment naturally changed.

Art making has served as an aid in weakening the negative hold of grief and over time leads towards an acceptance of life doing what it does in its own way. The creative process can play a part to let things come to the surface and play out in its own time and in its own way. This can create moments of release for the maker and for that which is connected to the process. In transforming my view of what at first seemed like an ultimate rejection and betrayal, I am slowly gaining a more wholesome appreciation of the event and the ungraspable nature of life.