What Dreams are Made of

By Edna McCabe

Part 6 - Our New House

Soon Martin contacted us to say he'd be coming at the weekend to take us home. Of course, I had to cry again. Then came the day and off we went, with our bits and pieces, on the train to Athlone. When we arrived we took a taxi for Connolly Street, as I thought. I didn't know where we were going when we headed off out the road in the direction of Coosan. Martin never said a word until we stopped at a row of new houses. Then he took out a key and said, "Welcome to your new home." I was flabbergasted. He had gone to the Council and with much persuasion had got the last vacant house, No. 47. And, he didn't tell me; he even wanted to carry me in! He was determined to give me that surprise. It was the just the boost I needed.

Grace didn't know where she was. She ran around clattering the floors with her little shoes. She didn't go upstairs or out to the back garden for weeks. Martin had to carry her everywhere. It was so exciting. Martin had whitewashed the walls but we had no curtains. Life was looking good again; and any time Martin had to go to Finner Camp or the Curragh, Grace and I went to Dublin.

When Martin got the key of our new house he moved everything in one go, with the help of Paddy Neville and an army truck. We were glad we had got that furniture! I believe Paddy waved Grace's little potty in the air and shouted to Martin, "What do you need this for, Martin?" The neighbours had a great look and laugh. I learned later that they were curious about the army man who had at first moved in on his own.

St Stephens Green 1954 I had dreaded the thoughts of going back to Connolly Street, as I kept seeing all that blood on the stairs. However, it turned out that Martin had no intention of taking me back there. Paddy told me how Martin had scrubbed the place clean before he left, and he knew how much he had suffered.

When I was in the hospital a nurse told me I'd probably never have another baby. When Martin heard this he wasn't perturbed and he simply said, "I didn't marry you to have babies." However, when I went to see Dr. Stanley some weeks later he assured me I could have more children, but that there was always the danger of the toxaemia coming again.

The first person I met in Assumption Road was Chrissie Reddin. She opened her window and shouted to us, "Welcome to Coosan". Coosan was the name of the general area, our road had still to be given its eventual name, Assumption Road. Then I discovered Mary Grehan (who taught me how to make soda bread) and her sister Esther was also living on the road. There were 118 houses in all.

It took us a very long time to get to know more people. I remember early on when I joined in with a group of ladies who were chatting at our gate. They were discussing their husbands, other men, and contraception. I had a feeling they were laughing at me. So from then on I kept to my next door neighbours Kathleen Smullen and Kathleen Fitzpatrick, and of course Chrissie Reddin. Also, Esther Sweeney and Mary Neville used to call. Mary had got a council house on the other side of town. So, little by little our circle of friends developed. Martin was very happy with all his clubs and the scouts and now he had a new challenge, his beloved garden. Soon we had all sorts of vegetables, and the front garden was a mass of flowers.

He also made wooden toys for Grace with his fretwork machine. She now had her own room with her doll's cot, a blackboard, a little table a tea set. She slowly started finding her way out to the garden. Then Mrs Fitzpatrick's little girl, Maureen, coaxed her out and soon she had her own friend.

Then Matt's wife Mary and her son Brian came to stay with us for a while. Mary didn't like England so she came home to Ireland on three separate occasions; each time leaving Matt to continue making a living in England. On the third occasion Matt brought her to her mother in Clare and left her there with Brian. Poor Matt! We could never understand it, as parting to us was such heartbreak.

Grace was four when I was expecting our third baby. Contraception and the pill in particular were available by this time but we never bothered with them. We had our faith and our own beliefs. All the same, Martin was terrified and he made me go to another doctor.

When I went to doctor and told him about little Nicholas, the baby I lost, he sent me to see the Master of the Coombe Hospital in Dublin, Dr. Soden. He recommended that I stay in Dublin, as he wanted to see me every week. At this stage I was two months pregnant. There then followed more weekends in Dublin and more coming and going for Martin. He wouldn't have it any other way.

One might wonder why we chanced having another pregnancy after all we'd been through. But it was inevitable due of our religious principles and our intense love for each other. We believed there had to be a reason for everything. There had to be, otherwise we wouldn't still have that special bond between us. There's a star up there, over the rainbow, shining for our little boy, and us.

We often remarked how tragedy can break some families but we had each other to lean on. I attended the Coombe Hospital for seven months. They continually checked my blood pressure and put me on a strict diet - no salt, no red meat, and lots of fruit and vegetables. While this was going on Martin lived alone in "47", the neighbours must have thought I'd left him!

Soon it was time for me to have my baby. I was very nervous and Martin was worse. I was in the ward with other expectant mothers when I told the nurse I felt the baby coming. She examined me and told me I'd probably have the baby that afternoon. That was at 11.45 a.m. The ward sister then said, I could walk in to the labour ward if it would make me happier. As she helped me she turned to talk to the doctor and nurse, and then without warning, this long awaited baby girl shot into the world. Twelve o'clock was ringing. Of course they were around me in minutes but all I kept saying was "I told you". I was hysterical and kept saying, "There's something wrong with my baby." Then the doctor put her gently in my arms - the only one of my children I saw straight from the womb; and I believe she actually smiled. The long wait was over. We had a perfect, baby girl and we called her Valerie Angela, because the Angelus was ringing when she was born. She was 7.5 lbs, the very same weight as Grace was. Martin lost no time in coming to see us, and his first words at the hospital were: "Is Edna all right?" He couldn't remember Valerie's name for ages; he even had to write it in his notebook!

Then back to "Swanville", my mother's house and preparations for our return to Athlone. It had been a long wait but soon the four of us were on the train home. Martin had papered and painted the whole house and as usual wanted to surprise me. Grace made straight for her bedroom where her surprise was a new doll's house. She decided after a few weeks we should "give the baby back", but when Martin agreed and said Maureen next door could have her she changed her mind!

Maureen and Grace used to dress up and put Valerie's matinee coat on Maureen's dog. They also used to put the poor animal in the doll's pram and go for a walk. Valerie wasn't another quiet child like Grace; she was a bubbly, full-of-fun, little one who was always laughing. She loved jewellery and she played for hours with my rings and bits and pieces. I can see her still; sitting cross-legged on my bed asking for my wedding ring and telling me my engagement ring was hers. (I promise you'll get it, Valerie!) I was always looking in the bed for the rings. If she saw me putting on lipstick she'd have to put some on too as she'd have decided that she too was going out. Oh, if life could only have stayed so happy for her forever.