A Day I Will Always Remember by Muriel Curtis (My Mum) c. 1977

My most memorable day was Christmas Eve, 1967. That was the day I arrived home from hospital with my new baby daughter.

I had spent 6 weeks in hospital prior to her birth and longed to be home again with my husband and two other children, Jonathan, just five years old and Sindee, seven and a half.

Because of complications, I knew my baby was going to be born prematurely, so it was no surprise when she was small at birth, weighing four and a half pounds. She was placed in an incubator, and for five days, her life hung in the balance. I could not give up hope, yet, every time the doctor came into the ward, I expected him to tell me the baby had died.

When she was five days old, I was able to go to the special baby unit to see her taken out of the incubator and to hold and feed her for the first time; she was so tiny I was almost afraid to hold her!

I went to feed her every three hours in the baby unit and could see she was beginning to gain weight, but was told I would not be able to take her home until she weighed five pounds.

We decided that because she was so small we would give her a short name. We named her Lisa.

Two days before Christmas Day, I decided I wanted to be at home with my other children. When the doctor came on his rounds that morning, I asked him if I could go home the following morning, which was Christmas Eve. He said I could, but that Lisa must be left in the hospital.

I was happy at the thought of going home after seven weeks, but not about leaving my baby behind.

On the morning of my discharge I was asked to go to see the pediatrician who had come to examine Lisa. After examination, he told me she had overcome her difficulties and, provided she weighed that magical number 5 pounds, I could take her home with me. I held my breath, I could not watch her being weighed, then sister (ward nurse) told me all was well, by baby had reached five pounds and half an ounce.

I was thrilled with the news and telephoned my husband and children at once. Just two hours later the three of them arrived, laden with baby clothes. We all went to the nursery to collect Lisa. Sindee and Jonathan helped the sister to dress the baby; they were thrilled with her. She looked beautiful in all her new white clothes, but everything was far too big for her.

After we arrived home, my children would not leave the site of the pram (baby carriage), they watched her every minute of that day, they even had their meals beside her. I don't think they could believe that at last they had the baby they had waited so long for, but there she lay, just nine days old, weighing five pounds and half an ounce.

It was Christmas Eve and five-year-old Jonathan had just learned his first carols at school. He sang Once in Royal David City as he rocked the pram. They thought that she was the best Christmas present they received that year, and I agreed with them.

When I look at my robust tomboy today, its difficult to believe that she is the same child that caused all the anxiety that Christmas ten years ago.