Sometimes we think that our own life does not seem to be of any
importance, and our troubles are what should be, specially before the
Maternity Benefit. When I was married, I had to leave my own town to go
out into the world, as it were, and when I had to have my first baby, I
knew absolutely nothing, not even how they were born. I had many a time
thought how cruel (not wilfully, perhaps) my mother was not to tell
me all about the subject when I left home. Although I was twenty-five
years of age when married, I had never been where a baby was born. When
my baby was born I had been in my labour for thirty-six hours, and did
not know what was the matter with me, and when it was born it was as
black as a coal and took the doctor a long while to get life into it.
It was only a seven-months baby, and I feel quite sure if I had been
told anything about pregnancy it would not have happened. I carried a
heavy piece of oilcloth, which brought on my labour. Anyway, the boy
lived, but it cannot be expected that he can be as robust as if he had
been a nine months baby, but he is healthy, but not extra strong.
When he was six years old, I had my fifth baby, and had also a
miscarriage, and then I went on strike. My life was not worth living
at this rate, as my husband was only a working man, out of work when
wet or bad weather, and also in times of depression. I had all my
own household work to do, washing, mending, making clothes, baking,
cooking, and everything else.
In those six years I never knew what it was to have a proper night’s
sleep, for if I had not a baby on the breast I was pregnant, and how
could you expect children to be healthy, as I always seemed to be
tired. If I sat down, I very often fell asleep through the day.
I knew very little about feeding children; when they cried, I gave them
the breast. If I had known then what I know now, perhaps my children
would have been living. I was ignorant, and had to suffer severely for
it, for it nearly cost me my life, and also those of my children. I
very often ponder over this part of my life. I must not say anything
about my mother now, because she is dead, but I cannot help thinking
what might have been if she had told me.
_Five children, one miscarriage._
[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF EXTRACT FROM LETTER 24.]