My pregnancy with him (my fifth) was a topsy turvy ride of joy and terror. After three babies dying in a row, I did a lot of praying. And poking. And panicking.
My obstetrician, who had dragged me kicking and screaming through the pregnancy, helpfully went on leave towards the end. We had arranged a date to meet at the delivery table in another two weeks. Almost as soon as he left, question marks were being raised about the viability of the baby in utero. My obstetrician's partner, confronted with the enormity of my file, asked me what I wanted to do. As 14 April 1989 was a Friday, and most of my obstetric adventures had occurred on weekends and holidays, my answer was unequivocal. "I don't think I would survive another pregnancy loss" were my exact words. His answer was just as straightforward. "Fine. We'll deliver you tonight".
Callum was born a perfectionist. This eternal truth became evident from very early on. From the moment he was pulled out into the world, roaring with indignation, he would refuse to do any learnt skill until he could do it just right.
He was born at 6.33pm. The first night was a battle. Callum had hyaline membrane disease due to prematurity. Noel French, his wonderful neonatologist, worked all night to try and keep him oxygenated and with me at the private hospital, instead of being transferred to the Level 3 nursery at the Women's hospital. If Callum had needed to be ventilated, he would have been moved. Through sheer will, Noel manged to stabilise Callum in a "head box". Awake at 3 o'clock, I was loaded into a wheelchair to see and touch my baby. Noel was still there. And he was back, checking Callum, later in the morning. I will never forget Noel's care and his skill.
So Callum learnt to breathe on his own. Then he learnt to breast feed, a slow laborious process.We came home after two weeks to his delighted sister. I finally had succeeded in having another pink, round, living little human being.
He was such a beautiful baby. He would smile with his whole body when I went to fetch him out of his cot. He was only grisly in the evenings, when he would feed almost non stop. I actually believe he was watching and learning all the time. And he was a giant sticky beak.
He helped me relax and really enjoy the experience. I stopped clock watching and if he cried, I held him and fed him. We took him everywhere. With his wispy blonde hair and super long eyelashes around his glorious hazel eyes, I was always being complemented. I glowed.
He was only unwell twice in his first year. He scared the hell out of me both times. Once was when he was only five weeks old when a heavy respiratory virus. The second time was more serious. He developed cellulitis in his eye socket. He was very sick and we were admitted to the children's hospital. Cracks had already started to appear in my relationship with my husband. He demanded my presence at home whilst Callum was in hospital. After five days, Callum had recovered and I was exhausted. He eventually walked unassisted at seventeen months after nine months of walking around furniture.
Alex was born just before Callum turned two. Callum amazingly took to his additional sibling with characteristic good humour. In the years that followed, he became the glue that held our family together. He was very social and loved daycare. That was a relief as he was dumped there regularly during Alex's frequent hospitalisations. He toilet trained himself in a day when he was three and a half. He just decided himself the time had come to use the toilet.
He started preprimary with enthusiasm and sailed into Year 1. He enjoyed the early years of primary school immensely. He coped with Alex's endless therapy sessions and Vanessa's eccentricities. To him, there were just everyday occurrences. Only once did he question my love and commitment to him.
He handled the adversity of upper primary and high school with perseverance and bravery. He was becoming very academic, an unwritten no no for boys, so it seemed. He was mercilessly bullied over a number of years. I lost count of the number of times I complained to the schools. They seemed powerless to help him and I was furious with a system that failed him.
With his ongoing social difficulties, he started counselling with a gentle, softly spoken, giant psychologist, Martin Exell. I was concerned about autism in the family. Martin tested him. Autism - no. ADHD - almost for sure. IQ - huge. Medication - definitely not. Martin was not in favour of medicating Callum, as he was concerned that would slow down the speed of Callum's thought processes. Instead, he taught him chess, offered himself as a role model and gave him as many strategies as possible to survive.
Two activities became his escape from the relentless bullying. He attended karate with a switched on set of instructors who worked hard with him on self discipline. He also won a year's scholarship to a ballroom dancing studio. He discovered he absolutely loved dancing. I would drive him every Saturday to his classes. Dancing would give him a sense of worth, a second family and passion, which helped to use his vast reserves of energy.
High school continued to be a nightmare for Callum. In Year 10, the private school he attended, admitted they had a serious bullying problem in that year and had no idea how to tackle the issue. I was gobsmacked. I had been thinking of trying another school for Callum, so I went to Martin for advice. He responded "When I was a young psychologist and knew very little, I would have said you can't get away from your problems. Now I'm older, wiser and have children, five years is a very long time to be unhappy. Move Callum".
So so he went to a smaller public high school. The move wasn't perfect, but better. He started enjoying life again. He had to make a choice between karate and dancing in Year 11. He chose dancing. By this time, my marriage had broken down and I had made the decision to move to Queensland. Callum chose to stay with his father. I crossed my fingers, as the children's father was volatile and unpredictable, particularly as they were growing up and forming their own opinions.
The Queensland experience unravelled almost immediately. And the inevitable happened to Callum - his Dad became unreasonable and aggressive. When I returned to Perth, his father refused to let Callum come and live with me again. We bided our time. Three months later, he tossed Callum's possessions onto my front verge and drove away. Callum returned to live with me.
Callum graduated Year 12 and started primary teaching at uni. He had finally found his niche. Between dancing and uni, he turned back into the social being that he'd been as a young child. He thrived on dancing competitions and he and his partner generally placed well. He'd had a few girlfriends in the mix. Some of the relationships fizzled out and one ended badly, causing him a degree of guilt and distress.
He became a contradiction at home. At times he was happy, content, helpful and charming. At other times, he was cranky, miserable and a king size pain. I began to realise that life was too good, too easy for him at home. I had been a tough mother, but he knew how to work me to his advantage.
There was open hostility in the house between my three children. I was constantly negotiating truces that never held. I'd fallen with love with Michael. He was also living in my home. I'd had enough. I announced to my children that the house was on the market, Michael and I were moving to the country and they weren't coming.
The boys returned to their Dad's house, who was delighted that he was removing them from my evil influence. Their stay was not a success and quickly degenerated into another disaster. Fortunately, by this time, Callum had met a gorgeous, strawberry blonde, firecracker of a young woman. Bronwyn refused to put up with any of Callum's rubbish and frequently brought him back to earth.
We helped Callum move into a share house. Alex entered into the first of two unfortunate boarding houses. Callum continued to juggle Bronwyn, uni, dancing and part time work at a cafe in the Hillarys tourist precinct. They broke up for five minutes and Callum was inconsolable. We received an unexpected phone call from him after midnight which Michael immediately passed to me. They swiftly reconciled, much to our relief.
Callum and Alex moved in together into a suburban unit eighteen months ago. It suited both of them - central, quiet, close to transport and facilities.Callum became Alex's unofficial carer, giving me additional time and energy to chase other issues.
Callum finished university in November 2012. He worked as a support and relief teacher for a year, whilst still dancing and being upgraded to manager status at the cafe. He thought he's hit the jackpot with a 12 month contract as a full time pre primary teacher at the beginning of this year. He and Bron started planning for their own home.
His teaching position turned very sour. Sixty percent of his students came from homes where English wasn't their language of origin. He had one student with severe language and behavioural issues, and he was asking for assistance for this child from the first week. He had other students who had never been away from their homes and mothers.
He was working fourteen and fifteen hour days. Teaching, preparing resources, studying, gathering information. His life was unravelling. Dancing, his only escape, went out the window. Then on the final day of term 1, the principal came to see him, verbally telling him his teaching was substandard and he either needed to resign his position or came back on probation.
He was devastated. He fell to pieces. I galvanised support for him through a good friend, a pre primary specialist and the union. The principal had used similar tactics in the past. Callum decided he didn't have the emotional strength for a protracted fight, even with union support.
He resigned from his position, went on holiday and returned to relief teaching, cafe managing and dancing. His mental turmoil passed. He was working three jobs but he was happy. He and Bron began building their house. Their lives were back on track.
Callum is still undecided about returning to full time teaching. His first experience was so awful and very stressful. He is continuing relief teaching and enjoying it again. Dance teaching will be and running up again with school graduations looming. He is picking up plenty of shifts at the cafe.
He is a wonderful son and I adore him. He asks me for advice when he needs help and usually follows my suggestions. He is also self opinionated, prone to irritability, can be pompous and is quick to open his mouth to take one foot out whilst putting the other one in!
He and Bron drove in yesterday morning in his little blue Mazda hatchback and spent the night here. I do miss them both and love their visits. They are currently going through the stressful process of building their home. I reminded them that building a house is similar to changing careers or dealing with a death! I am sure they will emerge from this challenge relatively unscathed and with their first home together. I have promised Bron that if he upsets her too badly with his tendency to be a motormouth, I will cheerfully beat him to a pulp for her. And he knows it.
ECU student
At the Great Western Competition with dance partner Francesca
my three men
Callum and Bronwyn in the kitchen of their home
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