The summer of 76 was a very mixed bag for me. Both horrible and wonderful. In particular the month of June 1976.
The horrible part - Following several nightmare years my dh was eventually confirmed as being paranoid schizophrenic and unlikely to ever be able to work or cope with life in general. I stuck it out a further 19 years.
And the wonderful part - my one and only child was born. I didn't know how I'd cope with a baby and his father who on another planet and unable/incapable of giving any support or help.
I needn't have worried. I did well and baby thrived.
At about 10 days old I took him to the Baby Clinic to be weighed - I was so embarrassed. All the babies were beautifully dressed. As we each waited our turn I looked around, my gorgeous baby was odd one out wearing only his (towelling) nappy, with towelling pants over it and a little baby vest.
Then it was my turn and the nurse held my son and called for 'attention everyone'. Nurse continued.... "This is a child dressed as he should be. Dressed for comfort and not for style. Well done mum !! "
I was 27 years old, my marriage was crumbling, and I was doing my best to be the best mum I could be.
That nurse will never know how much her words meant to me.