Being Uncle Simon

When my nephew was born, my Dad helpfully and possibly rather spitefully remarked to me, "Well that's something you'll never do." It was difficult to know how to deal with that at the time, because we were all rather happy that day (well for a while, but I'll get to that later), so I just let it go, putting it down to another one of Dad's unreasonable moments, but I think he knew what that would do to me.

You see, I know I'm never going to have children, and that's one of those big aching regrets I have. Its one you just have to put away and not think about most of the time, because it just leads to madness. I think I'd have been a good dad too. I seem to have an affinity with children, maybe because I've never really grown up myself. Still, that's one of those things I'll know. We're all told that one of those most wonderful things we can do in life is to create a new life, and it's something I won't ever do. So you see it all goes round and round and there's no answer. Its just not going to happen. I suppose there's always the possibility of fostering or adoption, but then there's the issue of same sex parents to deal with (there's another argument I've had with my Dad over the years) and its all becomes messy and complex.

Fortunately the whole issue van be neatly skirted around because of Luke, my nephew. He's two and a half now and full of life. He's very busy, taller than he ought to be at his age (just like his Uncle Simon was, so my Mum assures my sister) and very intelligent. Ok, I might be a bit biased about that, but considering what he went through when he was born its a miracle he's here with us at all.

September 2nd 2001 was a wonderful day. I'd just woken up on an overcast Sunday morning, when the phone rang. It was Mum and her first words were "Hello Uncle Simon!". It took a moment for that to sink in, before I was beaming! Luke was born a couple of weeks early and it was a remarkably easy birth for my sister. She woke up with what she thought was yet another bought of sickness at 1ish, at 3 she woke up her husband Mark, at 8 they were in hospital and at 9.40am he was born! Easy!

7Ibs 3 oz of baby was lying in his Dad's arms when we all arrived later to see them. It was quite amazing. Mark seemed so natural and tender with him and we didn't think we were going to get a cuddle as he didn't want to let go of him, but I did in the end, and as I noted in my diary although he was all scrunched up, like babies are, it was lovely to be holding this new life in my arms.

The happiness didn't last for long. Later that night Luke was turning blue and before long was being rushed off to Great Ormond Street. Very little oxygen was getting around his body. At the hospital they found out that the vein and the artery going into his heart were the wrong way round and so the oxygenated blood was travelling round in a loop. Some was getting through, keeping him alive, but not enough. So he had emergency surgery to put a little balloon in his heart to mix up the blood, which would last until he was a few weeks older and ready for the major surgery required to swap the vein and the artery around.

They were tense weeks. He spent a lot of time in intensive care at Great Ormond Street and Frimley Park, and it while it was good to hear him grizzling and making lots of noise, it was quite upsetting at times to see him connected to the ventilators and to not be able to give him a cuddle. More so I know for Vic and Mark. We all rallied round and looked after them as best we could and hoped for the best when it was time for his big op.

He was allowed to go home for the first time a week after he was born. the events of September 11th seemed to pass us by while we waited for his operation. Things seemed to become normal for a while before he was back at Great Ormond Street. My sister was holding things together while Mark was busy panicking about it, and it wasn't until after the op that she broke down after seeing him with all the tubes in him, barely recognisable as her son. Well who wouldn't? If I'd seen him then I'm sure I'd have felt the same, and I'm only his uncle. As it was, they didn't want us to come and see them there, not until Luke had recovered a bit. He'd got through the operation fine, but there was still a chance it might all go wrong.

As it turned out, Luke was a really resilient little boy and he fought his way through it all and made amazing progress. Four days later he was off the ventilator and out of intensive care. By the end of that day when I called my Mum and Dad he was down to the lowest level of care which was simply amazing, considering he'd had major surgery. By the Wednesday he was back home! He'd recovered in less than a week!

He has since then had regular checks to make sure its all ok, and despite the possibility he might have a hole in his heart (its not certain at the moment) he's very healthy. You'd never know from the way he runs around and is so full of energy that he'd ever had anything wrong with him, let alone heart problems. People always think babies are fragile things, but they are far more resilient than they are given credit for.

He seems to have made lots of progress just recently. He can say my name properly, so it no longer sounds like garden (which is a bit of a shame, as I rather liked that!), and his games are becoming more and more imaginative every time I see him. He's developed a healthy obsession with cars and trains and loves Thomas the Tank Engine. He can do a mean impression of a turkey and is a good shot with a water pistol! I'm very honoured to be his uncle and to be so involved in his life. I may not ever have children of my own, but knowing I can play a big part in Luke's life is wonderful. the way he waved at me when he suddenly and unexpectedly saw me the other week, when we went to the playground together made me feel really special.

Being an Uncle is just great!