With Claire’s birthday just around the corner, thoughts of her pregnancy, birth and her arrival have been in the forefront of my mind, more than usual. The range of emotions that I feel in the moments of reminiscing is vast, but this doesn’t really surprise me. They reflect the insane rollercoaster I was on two years ago, a ride which I so wanted to enjoy every minute of, but kept being thrown on various loops that would make my head spin. Even the confirmation that I was expecting a girl had to be celebrated with the news of a possible brain anomaly being given in the same breath.
With the endless speculations of doctors as to what might be the result of Claire’s identified differences in development, it was easy to feel worry and anxiety. It was easy to sometimes succumb to it all, and to lose my ability to approach the situation with any strength what-so-ever.
A neurologist suggested that we should be prepared for Claire to arrive early, and that it would be highly likely that her brain development would result in her inability to breath alone at her delivery. It was decided that the best place for her delivery would be the Mater Mothers’ Hospital, rather than our planned delivery at Pindara on the Gold Coast. Doctors at the Mater recommended that we move up to be closer to the hospital a month prior to Claire’s due date. With the support of our private Obstetrician, we were able to negotiate that two weeks prior to her due date would be safe.
Two weeks prior to Claire’s due date, Matt finished up at work and we moved into our room at Ronald McDonald House. Two single beds, a trundle for Callum, an ensuite with toilet and shower, and a communal kitchen. We had packed a few sets of clothes each, a handful of books and toys for Callum, and we made ourselves as comfortable as possible in what we fondly referred to as ‘baby prison’.
It was a very strange time. It was almost like a holiday as we had the chance to spend lots of time together, exploring South Bank Parklands, the iMax theatre and the Museum. I recall that my Facebook posts at the time were rather vague, as our journey at that time wasn’t public knowledge, though everyone was waiting to hear about the arrival of our new baby. The kitchen reminded me a lot of my experiences of backpacking hostels in the US and UK, but the mood was significantly different. People don’t head to Ronald McDonald House in the same spirits as they might a backpackers hostel. People are here because of circumstance, and usually the circumstances are not that great.
In the interest of privacy and respect, I obviously can’t share specific details of the people we met during our time at RMH. Mostly they were parents to tiny little babies who were fighting for their lives. Others, like us, were waiting for their babies to arrive, hoping against all hope that the worry had all been for no reason at all. That their babies would be born healthy and ‘normal’ and that they would soon be taking them home.
If nothing else, our time at RMH gave me a healthy dose of perspective. My first real opportunity to meet other parents, from all walks of life, who for no particular reason had been dealt a curveball that would no doubt have a significant impact on their lives. My heart was warmed as new mums told us about their beautiful, tiny babies in the NICU, and I was very honoured to finally be able to meet some of these treasures when Claire finally arrived, and for a brief time, was their roomie. My heart broke as we shared the heartache of a family whose little one didn’t make it to delivery day, and another couple who had only a handful of days with their precious baby boy.
The three weeks we spent at RMH (yes, three weeks, until Claire was INDUCED a week after her due date!), were certainly sobering for me. I had time to reflect on the what ifs, on how I might survive this journey whatever the outcome might be, and to soak up the joy I had already experienced as Claire’s mother, before I had even had the chance to hold her in my arms.
“Baby prison” was less calming for Matt and our terrible two-year-old, though Callum did enjoy the playground, the new toys and some ‘friends’ he found to terrorise. It was less than a holiday in so many ways and the atmosphere was one that we were not used to. Still, we made the best of the situation and had some time to still ourselves before Claire’s arrival. It seemed inappropriate to complain about the situation when there were others who had been staying there for up to a year. We were very relieved when we were able to take Claire home straight from hospital, and were able to cancel the booking that the hospital had arranged from us that extended right up until a month after her birthdate.
Ronald McDonald Houses really do become a home away from home for many families each year. They are reliant on volunteers, and also on public donations to continue to support their communities.
This Saturday, 10th November, is McHappy Day. McDonald’s stores around Australia will be collecting donations to support these houses. Even since my days making fries and serving Big Macs, I have always tried to support this event in at least some small way (perhaps this was just a good excuse to order a Big Mac!). Little did I know that one day I would be needing the support returned.
If you can help to support Ronald McDonald Houses, know that you are supporting families just like ours. Now there’s a great reason to indulge in fast food!
Claire Matilda 
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