Born on a Thursday evening in October 1963, the Fairly Good Mother was to be the middle child of a seamstress and her merchant seaman husband. The family resided in the cultural cauldron city of Liverpool (by the sea). There were difficulties during the labour and (unusually for that time) the mother demanded a Cesarean section.
As she wailed to all midwives and sundry, "I've waited 7 years for this child!," and recounted her recent history which included a miscarriage during the early weeks of a previous pregnancy, so the reluctant obstetricians complied. Almost immediately after the birth, while the mother and new addition to his family safely lay sleeping, the father relieved and elated (and as tradition dictates), had spent quality time with his peers in a pub of close proximity to the maternity unit while he celebrated.
After a short time with the baby the mother had rested. In those days it was customary for all babies to be transferred to a unit for newborns to be attended, so allowing the mothers to recover without further disturbance. However, when the mother awoke the next day and requested her baby, the child brought to her she claimed was not hers and that clearly (it incensed her - she complained) some mistake had been made. A short investigation identified the mix-up, as another mother had given birth at approximately the same time. It appeared these two children of intervention had been misplaced in their respective cradles, so at last the mother was reconciled with her child.
Some years later the young child, when hearing this story, herself asked how her mother had recognised her, who'd explained, "Oh... you were Much prettier!"
