Chapter Twelve:
'The Twin Tragedy of Christmas, 1992'
It was during the December of 1992 as Beth's 50th birthday approached and Christmas was in the air outside the Malone household that the former happy home sank into a sadness of its own. To be precise, it was 2.30 pm in the middle of the afternoon of December 24th when Beth Malone gave birth to a child in a clinically cold maternity ward in Galway. Her husband Dermot was there throughout to comfort her.
Beth looked extremely unhappy and was crying bitterly. Her husband Dermot held her hand comfortingly and sat by her bedside while the midwife in attendance was offering her a damp cloth to cool the sweat of her brow. Beth and her husband Dermot had been married for three years and although they had enjoyed a normal physical marriage from the moment they were first wed, neither had ever believed that Beth would become pregnant as she was considered too old to conceive.
Beth looked extremely unhappy and was crying bitterly. Her husband Dermot held her hand comfortingly and sat by her bedside while the midwife in attendance was offering her a damp cloth to cool the sweat of her brow. Beth and her husband Dermot had been married for three years and although they had enjoyed a normal physical marriage from the moment they were first wed, neither had ever believed that Beth would become pregnant as she was considered too old to conceive.
To Beth, Dada was the finest man who'd ever been born on Irish soil or who'd graced the presence of any home. He was a fine, upright, decent person who could never harm man, woman or beast and who placed the love and safety of his wife and daughters above all other matters in this world. Next to Dada, Beth had never met a man as good, with the possible exception of her husband, Dermot, who came a close second. Indeed, whenever she dreamt it was usually of her beloved Dada or Dermot.
As Beth pushed out the small lifeless child from inside her, the circumstances of her own motherhood couldn't prevent her thoughts from straying back almost forty years to that fatal day when her mother had also given birth to a son, and when both mother and child had died in childbirth. That had been another sad occasion, which she had mentally blocked from her mind during the intervening years.
As Beth pushed out the small lifeless child from inside her, the circumstances of her own motherhood couldn't prevent her thoughts from straying back almost forty years to that fatal day when her mother had also given birth to a son, and when both mother and child had died in childbirth. That had been another sad occasion, which she had mentally blocked from her mind during the intervening years.
It was an occasion, the precise circumstances of which she had told her husband Dermot and her former Social Worker, Megan, but no other living soul. It was an experience that no amount of trust and friendship would have allowed Beth to have divulged to the hostel discussion group.
As Beth lay there knowing that were the midwife to slap the arse of the infant for the next week non-stop, no cry would ever proceed from its stifled lungs, she silently cursed for allowing herself to carry the deceased foetus inside her for the full term than having it removed by caesarian much earlier. Her tormented mind kept switching between the experiences that both haunted her past and those that excited her. One minute she'd be thinking of her parents' death, the estranged years from her sisters, her two rapes, the snatching of her daughter into care, etc, before returning to a happier time and thoughts when she and Dermot had found love in each other's arms.
As Beth lay there knowing that were the midwife to slap the arse of the infant for the next week non-stop, no cry would ever proceed from its stifled lungs, she silently cursed for allowing herself to carry the deceased foetus inside her for the full term than having it removed by caesarian much earlier. Her tormented mind kept switching between the experiences that both haunted her past and those that excited her. One minute she'd be thinking of her parents' death, the estranged years from her sisters, her two rapes, the snatching of her daughter into care, etc, before returning to a happier time and thoughts when she and Dermot had found love in each other's arms.
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Beth had reached the age of 46 years when she and Dermot had decided to marry. He had been one year her senior. Neither party ever dreamt that they would one day become parents, having found love with each other so late in their lives. Both were naturally surprised therefore when three years after getting married, 49-year-old Beth discovered that she was pregnant with child. While neither party would at first believe the unexepected news, when her stomach began to grow larger and the hospital scans showed the irrefutable proof that Beth was indeed expecting a child, both Beth and Dermot resigned themselves to the miraculous event. They decided if the child was a girl it would be called Devina and David if it was a boy.
Beth's pregnancy was a period where early fear seemed to overtake any feelings of pleasure that the expecting parents would allow themselves to have. Beth feared that she was too old to give birth to a healthy child and for the first two months prayed that the unborn infant wouldn't present any complications. By the thirteenth week of her pregnancy however, Beth and Dermot's world was to fall apart.
During the thirteenth week Beth had sensed no movement in her stomach and she started to fear the worst. Upon closer medical examination, her worst fears were confirmed and the hospital consultant told her that the foetus had died inside her. She was offered the opportunity of having an operation to have the foetus removed or carrying the dead child inside her until it was delivered at full term at nine months. To her husband and the consultant's utter surprise, she opted for the latter course.
During the thirteenth week Beth had sensed no movement in her stomach and she started to fear the worst. Upon closer medical examination, her worst fears were confirmed and the hospital consultant told her that the foetus had died inside her. She was offered the opportunity of having an operation to have the foetus removed or carrying the dead child inside her until it was delivered at full term at nine months. To her husband and the consultant's utter surprise, she opted for the latter course.
Beth and Dermot cursed their bad luck as they were told that statistics reveal only one birth in two hundred to be stillborn.
"What caused the foetus to die? Was it my age?" Beth had asked the hospital consultant a few months earlier.
"We are never quite sure, Mrs Malone, as it could be so many things, but despite your age, I wouldn't think it was that. Although unusual, I've personally known dozens of women over the age of fifty give birth to a baby!" the consultant replied. When the consultant saw Beth start to blame herself for the stillbirth, he tried to reassure her further.
"What caused the foetus to die? Was it my age?" Beth had asked the hospital consultant a few months earlier.
"We are never quite sure, Mrs Malone, as it could be so many things, but despite your age, I wouldn't think it was that. Although unusual, I've personally known dozens of women over the age of fifty give birth to a baby!" the consultant replied. When the consultant saw Beth start to blame herself for the stillbirth, he tried to reassure her further.
"There are so many things which are thought to cause stillbirth, Mrs Malone," he said, "Far too many things, and most of which we are still learning about. There could have been a bacterial infection, a chromosomal aberration, but it is most likely to have been caused by the liver disease we found earlier called Obstetric Cholestasis, after you reported an unusual itch on the palms and the soles of your feet. It has long been known that pregnant women with Obstetric Cholestasis have abnormally high levels of bile acids in their blood, because the liver isn’t working properly. I suspect that these raised levels of bile acids, which have been known to endanger unborn babies by causing their heart to beat abnormally, produced a fatal heart attack in your child. It is one of those unfortunate acts of God for which nobody is responsible, Mrs Malone."
However distraught Beth was, she did know where to lay the blame; she knew at whose door to firmly put it. She started to blaspheme and blame God for having allowed her innocent child to die as she spat out her bile. "A fine God of compassion you are! You couldn't even let the poor mite have the breath of life and give him his first cry before you ensured that his little life was snuffed out, could you? What harm has he ever done..... or me and Dermot for that matter?"
However distraught Beth was, she did know where to lay the blame; she knew at whose door to firmly put it. She started to blaspheme and blame God for having allowed her innocent child to die as she spat out her bile. "A fine God of compassion you are! You couldn't even let the poor mite have the breath of life and give him his first cry before you ensured that his little life was snuffed out, could you? What harm has he ever done..... or me and Dermot for that matter?"
Dermot Malone tried to console his wife, but whatever he said or did, Beth proved inconsolable. Five minutes later she had passed out and when she next woke, there was neither sign of the blood-stained bedsheets and nightgown she'd previously worn and the corpse of her stillborn son had been laid to rest in the hospital morgue.
Following the delivery of her stillborn during the Christmas Day of 1992, Beth cut herself off from the world completely over the following two weeks. Even her beloved husband Dermot was unable to temporarily lift her from the pit of depression she had seemingly thrown herself into. The funeral of their son in his doll-sized coffin tore from Beth's body any trace of reasoning she had remaining as it was lowered into the ground of the parish graveyard. The Parish Priest tried to console Beth and Dermot with a few words of comfort, but as far as Beth was concerned his words fell on deaf ears. His God was powerless!
Following the delivery of her stillborn during the Christmas Day of 1992, Beth cut herself off from the world completely over the following two weeks. Even her beloved husband Dermot was unable to temporarily lift her from the pit of depression she had seemingly thrown herself into. The funeral of their son in his doll-sized coffin tore from Beth's body any trace of reasoning she had remaining as it was lowered into the ground of the parish graveyard. The Parish Priest tried to console Beth and Dermot with a few words of comfort, but as far as Beth was concerned his words fell on deaf ears. His God was powerless!
Unable to continue to live in their Galway home after the death of their son, where they had been happy since their marriage, Beth and Dermot upped sticks and moved to the county of Kilkenny where they rented a cottage just over the bridge. The couple eventually obtained work; Dermot in a local glue factory and Beth in a bakery in the centre of town. Beth was entirely familiar with this type of work and she also found the irregular hours of her work for one week in three (between 10pm and 6am) welcoming as it essentially meant that as one marriage partner slept, the other was out working and vice versa.
After the death of their son, Beth found the thought of returning to normal marital relations with her husband too hard to handle. After all, who was to say that if she'd conceived once so late in her life that she couldn't conceive again. The mere thought of ever having to go through another birth almost drove her crazy. Being Catholic, though she had stopped attending Mass ever since her stillborn delivery of the previous Christmas, her husband Dermot still lived his life as a practising Catholic. He had never used a condom in his life and at his age, he wasn't about to start using one now, particularly as he believed it to be wholly unnecessary, apart from being in direct contravention to church law.
After the death of their son, Beth found the thought of returning to normal marital relations with her husband too hard to handle. After all, who was to say that if she'd conceived once so late in her life that she couldn't conceive again. The mere thought of ever having to go through another birth almost drove her crazy. Being Catholic, though she had stopped attending Mass ever since her stillborn delivery of the previous Christmas, her husband Dermot still lived his life as a practising Catholic. He had never used a condom in his life and at his age, he wasn't about to start using one now, particularly as he believed it to be wholly unnecessary, apart from being in direct contravention to church law.
Six months later, the resumption of a more normal marital relationship between them became less of an issue when Dermot discovered that he had a terminal illness and had less than three months left to live. Initially he was naturally angry at this ill fortune, which fate had thrown his way and it was over three weeks after first learning of the death sentence hanging over him that he found the strength to tell his wife Beth. As he told her, he realised that he'd be leaving her on her own again and started to cry at the prospect. Beth had never seen Dermot reduced to tears before and it grieved her to hear his sad news.
It was as though it took news as grave as Dermot had given Beth, to shake her from the morass of morbidity that she'd sunk into since the death of her child. Overnight, Beth reversed roles with Dermot and made herself available to attend his every wish and need.
It was as though it took news as grave as Dermot had given Beth, to shake her from the morass of morbidity that she'd sunk into since the death of her child. Overnight, Beth reversed roles with Dermot and made herself available to attend his every wish and need.
Dermot confounded the expectations of his doctor and lived for a further nine months instead of three and during their remaining time together, the couple returned to spending quiet evenings playing games in the front room of their accommodation. Beth naturally gave up her job at the bakery in order to be with her husband all day and night. During his last month of life, his body grew much weaker and he needed constant attention.
It was the night before Dermot died in his sleep when he and Beth sat in front of their log fire as they talked and talked about all manner of things; most of which, looking back on now, were trivial in their significance. Dermot turned towards Beth and said, "Kiss me sweetheart, I'm getting very tired." Beth and Dermot kissed. It was to be the very last time they would kiss with warm lips. Dermot had a checked-patterned tartan cover over his knees and Beth cradled him lovingly in her arms. As Beth continued to talk to Dermot, a few minutes seemed to have passed before she noticed that he hadn't made a sound. He had died peacefully in the arms of his wife and one true love and had given Beth no warning of his departure.
It was the night before Dermot died in his sleep when he and Beth sat in front of their log fire as they talked and talked about all manner of things; most of which, looking back on now, were trivial in their significance. Dermot turned towards Beth and said, "Kiss me sweetheart, I'm getting very tired." Beth and Dermot kissed. It was to be the very last time they would kiss with warm lips. Dermot had a checked-patterned tartan cover over his knees and Beth cradled him lovingly in her arms. As Beth continued to talk to Dermot, a few minutes seemed to have passed before she noticed that he hadn't made a sound. He had died peacefully in the arms of his wife and one true love and had given Beth no warning of his departure.
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Knowing it to have been his wish, Beth made the necessary arrangements for Dermot to be buried in the grounds of 'St John's the Evangelist', John's Street Lower, Kilkenny. Three months after her husband's funeral, Beth moved again; this time to the town of Portlaw, County Waterford. After selling her house and chattels, Beth was able to scrape together enough money to purchase a small terraced property in 14, William Street where she would start afresh.
