It was the mid-1960s and Liverpool, and the rest of the world, was gripped by Beatlemania: but for one young nun working as a midwife in one of the most deprived areas of the city, the cultural revolution happening a few streets away might as well have been taking place on another planet. Dressed in a long white habit and veil, Sister Eleanor divided her?time between her convent and the homes of the city's most disadvantaged, hurrying out whenever the summons came that one of her mothers-to-be had?gone into labour. Then it was back to?her prayers and hymns in the chapel. The Beatles and their music didn't get a look-in.
If it sounds like a series of Call the Midwife, transposed to a new decade and a different city from the 1950s London of the BBC hit series, that is because it is very much how it was. But this was real life and – just like Sister Bernadette in the television drama, who is drawn into a relationship with the local GP – Sister Eleanor was beginning to realise that perhaps her true calling lay elsewhere.
"I was 25 or 26 years old and I'd been?a nun since the age of 18," she explains. "It was very young to go into?a convent, but the romance and simplicity of the religious life appealed to me. I really did love God and I genuinely valued my vows of chastity, poverty and obedience.
"But as a midwife you're surrounded by fertility and as I watched baby after baby being born, I started to feel this terrific yearning, an almost unstoppable yearning, to become a mother myself. There wasn't a man in my life, but I had begun to realise that finding someone to be my partner, and to be the father of my children, was the direction in which I needed to go."
Eleanor Stewart, who is now a grandmother, at home in Portsmouth. Photograph: Sean Smith for the Guardian Today, a youthful-looking 70, Eleanor Stewart is chatting to me in the sunny sitting room of her home near the south coast. Her husband, John, is working in the study next door, their daughter Esme lives in Suffolk and their son Paul is just down the road. His children, four-year-old Joseph and?two-year-old Charlie, are the lights?of Eleanor's life, and she sees her?grandchildren every few days.
But if family turned out to be Eleanor's true vocation – and undoubtedly, she says, it did – it was not an easy ride into an idyllic future. The truth is that it was much harder to leave the convent than it was to enter it?because, unusual as it may sound, becoming a nun was a very exciting move. "When I felt I had a vocation, I?looked around and felt drawn to a congregation in France, the Sisters of?Charity of Our Lady of Evron. So becoming a postulant meant moving from my home in Oxfordshire to France, which was a big adventure."
She joined a community of around 100 nuns – that size of convent was usual in 1961, but would be unheard of?today – and home became a vast, beautiful convent in La Mayenne, in?north-west France. "It was an incredibly romantic way of life," she says. "We wore the traditional long habit and veil, and our days consisted of studying and praying and doing housework and gardening. It was an ordered – and an appealing – way of life.
"Several times a day we would process into the chapel for services, and the singing and chanting were quite superb. There were moments when I?really did feel God was very close, and that's an amazing experience."
Sister Eleanor (second from left) working as a midwife in Liverpool in the 1960s. Eleanor worked in her order's school, teaching English, but once she became a fully fledged member of the congregation, the mother superior, Sister Henrietta, asked to see her. "She?told me I was going back to the UK and would be training as a nurse. It?was a bombshell, but as a nun you make a vow of obedience, and you allow others to make decisions on your?behalf."
In 1964, Eleanor moved to a convent in central Liverpool and began training at the city's Broadgreen hospital. "Though I hadn't chosen this path, I?loved it from the first moment," she says. "The hospital was an interesting, stimulating place, and I enjoyed the interaction with the patients."
Her days were busy and tiring, but occasionally she caught a glimpse of a?different kind of life. "I didn't miss sex as a nun, although I wasn't a virgin when I joined the convent," she says. "But I remember having a rapport with one particular house officer. He wasn't particularly handsome and I was a chubby nun, but there was a definite spark between us."
It was when she began her midwifery training, though, that Eleanor started to have serious doubts about her future at the convent. "I absolutely loved delivering babies. The birth rate in Liverpool in the 60s was going through the roof, so there were plenty of babies to deliver. I worked with a midwife called Sister Dawkins, who was a layperson, not a nun, and she was a great believer in home births. When the call came to say a woman was?in labour we'd venture out into some of the most disadvantaged areas?of Liverpool, piles of newspapers in hand. We worked on the premise that clean newsprint was preferable to?dirty bedding."
Just as for Jennifer Worth, the author of?Call the Midwife, most of Eleanor's clients were impoverished and living in cramped conditions but, she says, the Liverpudlians of the 60s had a warmth and directness, and the arrival of a new baby was invariably a moment for community celebration, to which she was always welcomed. "Nuns were loved and respected by everyone – on the bus, the driver would say, 'I'm not taking a fare from you, sister', and mothers would prod their children to stand up so I could sit down."
But in the wider world, religious life was changing for Roman Catholics. "For the first time, nuns were being given opportunities to have a bit of freedom. For example, we were told we were going to get an allowance of 10?shillings a week, to use as we wanted. There wasn't much we needed, so I decided to use my money to buy tampons – and that horrified some of the other nuns. One of them said people would think I wasn't a virgin. It was a very strange mentality."
Eleanor Stewart in her teens at home in Oxfordshire before she became a nun. Around her, nuns were realising that the old-style religious life no longer seemed relevant and were leaving their?convents in droves. "What was especially sad was that many nuns were waiting until they reached their early 40s and then leaving, hoping desperately that there would still be time to meet someone and have a child – I started to think, I don't want that to happen to me."
Eleanor recalls the day she left the convent and said goodbye. "I took off my veil and habit for the last time, and put on a neat grey suit. It seemed strange to have my hair around my shoulders and to feel the air on my knees. At Lime Street station I wept buckets saying goodbye to the sisters who had come to see me off. In the end, the mother superior marched me into the bar and ordered a brandy, telling the barman it was for health reasons."
Eleanor moved to Portsmouth, near where she still lives, and continued to work as a midwife. "Adapting to ordinary life again was tough, especially as I didn't tell anyone about my past. Eventually I did confide in a?couple of very close girlfriends, other midwives I was working with, and their reaction was: 'Thank God! We thought you'd been in prison for the last eight years – we couldn't think of any other reason for you being so muddled about money and shopping and the ordinary things in life.'"
As well as midwifery, there were parties – and boyfriends. "I hadn't had a relationship for so long, so now I did rather throw myself into it as though I?was making up for lost time. None of the men I dated knew that I'd been a nun – but John, who became my husband, did because he was a friend of my brother. As we spent more time together, I realised we were falling in love ... at last, it seemed everything I'd?hoped for was about to happen."
Eleanor and John were married in November 1973 and immediately started trying for a baby. But there was bad news: Eleanor had contracted chlamydia, the sexually transmitted infection, after leaving the convent – and already lost a fallopian tube and an ovary as a result. "It was all terribly sad because it was my own fault for having unprotected sex," she says.
"If I'd used condoms with my boyfriends, I'd have been much less likely to have got chlamydia. It does its damage quickly and quietly – by the time I'd started to feel unwell, my tubes were already severely affected. They said when they treated me that there was a high chance of an ectopic pregnancy and that's exactly what happened. I got pregnant very soon after my marriage to John and was delighted. But eight weeks in, I had to be rushed to hospital by ambulance and it was confirmed that the baby was growing in my remaining fallopian tube. I was told that removing it was the only way to save my life … which put paid to me ever being able to have a baby of my own," she says.
In those days, it was relatively easy?to adopt a baby, and she and John began the process. "Things moved very quickly and within a short time we were given Esme, who was nine weeks old. Three years later we got Paul, who was 17 months old at the time," she says.
Once she was a mother, Eleanor remembers visiting the convent – and Sister Henrietta's words. "She said, this is what was meant to be. Everything was?meant to happen this way so that?you could be the mother of these two children."
Amid the hurly-burly of life with two young children, Eleanor says she did occasionally think back to the tranquillity of the convent. "There were some days, especially if it was riotous at breakfast and the children were squabbling, when I'd think what I'd do to be in the silence of the nuns' refectory, where everything was always calm and orderly. But I'd only have wanted to be there for a moment because family life was right for me."
Raising her children was not always?easy, especially when they reached adolescence. As well as the turbulence you would expect in those years, there were additional problems rooted in the children's early lives before the adoptions. "But through all the difficult times, I always felt I had the prayers and support of the sisters I'd left, because they really always did keep me and my family in their hearts, and I was always grateful for their letters and their guidance and for them just listening to what was going on in my life," she says.
"I've never regretted the choice I?made – but I've never forgotten those extraordinary years when I was Sister Eleanor, either."
‧ Kicking the Habit: From Convent to Casualty in 1960s Liverpool by Eleanor Stewart is published by Lion Hudson, ￡8.99. To order a copy for ￡7.19 with free UK p&p, call 0330 333 6846, or visit?guardianbookshop.co.uk
Eleanor tweets at @HabitKicking
沒有留言:
張貼留言