How long does it take to discover that we are alive? 

At the beginning, impressions and sensations allowed awareness of being. Warmth and softness, overlaid with gentle rhythmic sounds, lulled me into partial consciousness. When did I begin to put words and names to those experiences? Where did the words originate? Lethargy addled my thinking. 

Moments approaching lucidness occurred when I assumed it was a dream. Soon I would wake, and get on with life. Important tasks must be done; I didn't know or care what they were. 

I dreamt the scent of crushed pine needles, the tickle of a cool breeze, the colours of blue, of green and of the warm, yellow sun. Awake in the dream, I wondered about their meaning. But, like the dream's origin, my wonderings had no significance. Asleep or awake, all was a dream; how could I know the difference? 

Occasionally, I was surprised by a palpable sense of being present, and fear trickled through the rosy light. When a sound or a sudden movement startled me, the frightened beating of my heart vibrated through my bones. During these unpredictable times I became skilled at stilling alarm and rearranging my mind back to a calm, peaceful state, returning gratefully to the dreaming place. Sleep the preferable option. 

I discovered the ability to push, kick, and roll, revelling in exuberant, joyful movements. As time progressed, these actions became difficult. I didn't wonder about the growing constriction. The question of where, what, who I was, did not enter into my consideration. Like a leaf sliding along a stream I had no thought for tomorrow. 

Sudden, jarring pain was a shock. It resonated through every cell in my body. I wanted to scream, fight, struggle back to the warm burrow of soft comfort. But a fierce, unrelenting force pushed me, denying me peace, squeezing my body; I was dying. 

Angry and hurting, I panicked. My security and happiness lost forever. Even more shocking, was the abrupt emergence of glaring light and loud noises. The sense of empty space around my body, the penetrating cold, the dreadful sense of loss, caused me to howl frustration and pain; my first voice frightening me further. 

A blur of petrifying experiences followed and I closed my eyes against the indignities performed on my body. Even in this alien place there was blessed sleep. Was it the splitting headache or sudden laughter that brought me back to consciousness? 

I heard conversation. 

"Look, her eyes are opening."

"What colour are they?"

"It's too early to tell."

"So gorgeous; she's perfect. Tino ātaahua." 

Familiar voices full of affection soothed me. The pain behind my eyes diminished. My body relaxed.

"You've never used those words before." The boy's voice was teasing, loving.

"I'd like to have heard you, if you'd been at this end. It bloody hurt!" The girl's voice rang with laughter again. 

"You still want to call her Lacey?" Uncertainty hovered behind his question.

"Those tiny dark curls stuck against her head remind me of the little lace cloths that Nana used to make." There was a catch in her voice. The girl laid her cheek against the whorls of my hair, inhaling. 

I felt her breath on my skin.

"Lacey, then. Hello, Lacey, my treasure. Tāku tamāhine. My daughter. Welcome to our world."

That sent me into a panic. I'm not Lacey, I wanted to shout. I'm not Lacey, I'm …who am I? My identity was close, but slipping from reach. Tantalising me with awareness of it – but who? What was happening to me? Who were these people?

A light kiss on the top of my head was followed by the gentle caress of a large, warm hand. Unexpectedly, I felt soothed, protected. For the moment it didn't matter who I was. 

Blinking, I tried to focus on the faces, straining to see the owners of those reassuring voices. Something was wrong with my eyes. I attempted to rub them, but neither arms refused to obey. Anxiety bubbled deep within. I slowed my breath to calm tumbling thoughts. 

"Look at her cute little frown. Who do you think she looks like?" The girl sounded anxious.

"Don't worry, hun. Don't think she's got much of my hori blood," the boy said chuckling. "But I reckon she's got your PI eyes, they're all slanty, and that's a palagi nose." He laughed again, and I sensed him moving quickly from the girl's reach. 

"She's absolutely perfect." The girl nuzzled against my curls. I felt her long, dark hair hanging like a protective veil about my head. The scent of her, although overlaid with a tang of fresh blood, comforted me.  I could not see it then, but later discovered that my olive skin was a perfect match for hers. 

"Mum! Dad!" I heard delighted pleasure in the girl's voice as she greeted newcomers.  "You must have driven all night!"

"Gidday, Niko. Hiya, Faith." There was warmth in the greetings.

"Let me hold her. Oh, the darling. My first grandchild." 

An older woman kissed the younger one's cheek, then gathered the tiny swaddled bundle that was me into her arms. She traced my cheek with gentle fingers; murmured loving words. 

I turned curious eyes towards the blurred outline of this person. I knew this face, this voice. My heart beat with anticipation while knowledge danced out of reach – but I recognised love. I listened. 

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Her father sounded anxious. "Baby wasn't due for another three weeks. If we had thought … we wouldn't have left town." 

"The plan was for me to be there, but these things happen. How did it go?" The woman who held me spoke. "Oh, she is adorable!" 

A warm, wet, drop fell on one of my cheeks as she kissed my face again. Months later I saw a photo of this moment. The woman's blonde hair mingled with the fragile chocolaty whorls as she held me close. Her attention directed back to the girl. "Tell us all about it, love. If you've got the energy."

"I'm fine, but Ben did a face-plant," the girl replied, giggling. "After he passed out they gave him his own bed."

"Not true!" Ben protested indignantly. "Lissa's having you on!"

"Well, you nearly did!" the girl conceded. "Our midwife Judith was awesome. We had the water-birth like we planned, even though baby came early. It was unbelievable. I think being in the water helped. Even Judith said it was fast for a first."

"I'm glad Judith was here," her mother said. "She delivered your brother, Isaia."   "So we got her to blame." The girl giggled, then groaned. "I shouldn't laugh. It hurts." 

"The most amazing thing was seeing baby come out completely wrapped in the amniotic sack. Judith said it was pretty rare for that to happen. She had to cut it to get baby out." Ben's voice shook as he told the story. "I've never seen anything like it.”

"Well, how many babies have you seen born anyway?" Lissa demanded.

Her parents laughed and I heard a chair creak as the older man – Niko – settled. "Actually that's pretty special," he said.

I listened as he told the young couple that lots of cultures – including his Samoan heritage – believed that it indicated the infant would have unique qualities. "We should ask Nanny Eseta, but I'm pretty sure she would tell us our little girl will have great perceptive abilities and be lucky all her life."

"That's interesting, but I feel lucky, just having her here," Ben said. His voice indicated that he wasn't too interested in myths and legends.

"Did you know that Lissa was also born en caul?" said Faith.

"No way!" said Ben.

"I knew I was special," said Lissa. 

There was laughter again.

"Has your whānau been up yet, Ben?” Niko asked.

"To tell you the truth, I've been putting off telling them. You know what Ma's like. She'll wanna take over." 

"Might be an idea to give her a call soon," Faith suggested. "There's no point making trouble."

 "I'd better get it over with."  I heard him kiss Lissa. "Wish me luck," he said, heading out of the room.

"Let me take another photo." Niko held his phone above me. "I'll put it on Facebook and the boys will be able to see her if they've got reception.  Your brothers will be brassed off that they weren't here." He was talking to Lissa. 

"Well, they were desperate to go off with Nanny to Samoa for their school holidays! They can have a cuddle with baby if they behave when they get home." Lissa chuckled as she spoke.

"Why Lacey?" Niko asked. "That's not a Samoan or Māori name."

The girl explained while her mother cradled me. 

"Doilies. They are called doilies, love. Nana Reyna crocheted them." Faith traced light fingers across my face. "Believe it or not, today would have been Mum's fifty-eighth birthday." The light caught a glint of tear at the edge of one blue eye. "Fancy being born on your great-granny's birthday; thirtieth of October. Mum would have loved you to bits, darling Lacey."

"She'll probably get traditional names too," Niko said. "Nanny Eseta and Ben's mum will expect input. You'd better be ready for that. But for now, Lacey is perfect." He stroked a large finger across my palm, causing my fingers to reflexively grasp. "So, Lacey Cameron, afia mai, welcome little one." 

Blinking, I tried to make out the strong features. I knew him, but who was he? Frustration gripped me. I opened my mouth to demand an answer and was startled to hear a loud wail.

"Hon, you've frightened her." Faith cuddled me close, murmuring love into my hair. 

"My bad." Niko took photos, capturing images of fair skin against the olive; blue eyes gazing raptly into half-closed dark ones. 

He captured an image of Faith, Lissa and me. Later, it had place of honour in their lounge. 

While he did that, I listened entranced to the older woman's voice, smelling the uniqueness of her, feeling safe in her encompassing arms. Relaxed, a name, a face, a truth so fearful, dropped unbidden into my mind. 

My breath faltered. The rapid beating of my heart measured shock. Thoughts, like tectonic shifts, slipped past, avalanching into a fragmented jumble that I could not extricate myself from. 

I remembered this woman, these people. And I knew with frightening certainty that this was not supposed to happen.

۞

I fell asleep, and dreaming, I had awareness of floating. Through dream-eyes, the scene below was clear. Lissa dozed in the hospital bed. The small body tucked in a plastic cot beside her must be me. 

Dark curls peeked above the cream and pink hospital blanket, and a small fist curled beside my head was just visible on the white sheet. 

Ben's long legs stretched across the linoleum as he lounged in an armchair, watching Lissa doze. 

Opening her eyes, Lissa smiled. "You happy hon?"

Ben's hand looked strong – calloused from hard work and dark from long exposure to the outdoors – but gentle as it enveloped Lissa's smaller, paler hand. "I still can't believe my luck," he whispered. "The most beautiful woman on the planet chose to marry me, and today has given me the most beautiful child in the world." 

Lissa's smile reflected that love as she squeezed his hand, caressing brown skin with her thumb. "We're both so blessed," she murmured, exhaustion shading her voice. 

Ben looked about to reply when a stocky woman burst through the doorway, chanting a traditional Māori welcome.

"Haere mai, haere mai, haere mai mokopuna mai!" Her strident voice echoed around the little room. Still chanting, she advanced towards my cot.

Ben leapt to his feet and pulled her into an embrace, diverting her. 

My body remained asleep despite her loud chanting. I watched with interest from near the ceiling, too engaged in the scene to wonder how I was getting this ringside view of proceedings.

"Hey Ma, you got here fast. Hope you weren't speeding again! The cops will be watching out for you!"

She was his mother? My grandmother?

 "You should have called me when Elissapeta went into labour!" His mother returned the hug lightly then pushing past, peered down at my sleeping self. "She's pale. Too small. Is she māuiui? I should have been here to follow tikanga."

"Baby is fine Ma, she's not sick. But she was a few weeks early, that's why she's so tiny. Lissa is good too, but it was a hard night. We didn't want to bother anyone, it was so late." Ben stretched a hand to stop his mum when she leant over to lift me from the cot.

"Baby needs to sleep, Ma," he said apologetically. "We just settled her. There'll be heaps of time for holding her later."

"I'm her grandmother!" The woman snapped. "I have every right to pick her up! I bet that fuckin' bitch Faith held her!"

"Ma!" Ben's dark eyes flashed; his grip on her arm tightened as he steered her away from my cot. 

There was no violence, just a movement full of undercurrents, but the woman glared at him. Would she push back?

On the bed Lissa sat up, eyes wide and mouth open with shock. "That's my mother you're talking about, Marama. How could you call her that!" She broke off into a choking sob. 

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, just got het-up." Ma – Marama – smiled with an unpredictable change of emotion. "I was so excited about baby and all. And disappointed to miss the birth. I'm okay now, Pene." Marama pulled her fingers through the tangle of her son's black curly hair. The brittle edge of her smile was shared briefly with Lissa.

I watched Lissa observe her mother-in-law; mistrust radiating.

"Well, her name is Marama, that's decided," my grandmother declared, with another mercurial change. She stood rigidly, hands outstretched towards my cot, as if passing a benediction. "It's family tradition that the first girl child is called Marama. You know that."

"No, Ma." Ben moved to hold Lissa's hand, and looked directly into his mother's darkening eyes. "Baby's name is Lacey."

"But Marama will definitely be one of her middle names," Lissa added.

The older woman stared wide-eyed at them. "You're saying no to me? Your mother? You won't keep the tikanga whānau? It's family tradition!" Hands on hips, shoulders back, she looked ready for a fight.

"Two generations is hardly tradition, Ma," Ben said, his voice gentle. "You were named after your birth mum, when Nan and Koru took you in. You weren't much older than Lacey."

Marama's lips curled. She looked ready to spit on the floor. "I'm disgusted in you, Pene," she snapped. "You're allowing this girl to drag you away from your whānau, your true family! Where is your sense of loyalty to me, to your father, your whole whānau! We've been deliberately left out every step of the way. She put you up to this!" Marama jabbed a finger towards Lissa sitting in the bed.

"Ma, let's not go through all that again," Ben pleaded. "You're upsetting Lissa with all this disturbance."

"Disturbance! That's what you call me?" Her eyes flashed as she stepped closer to her son.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Ben retorted, struggling to control his temper. 

"Excuse me, folks." A nurse bustled into the room, her glance taking in the situation. "Sounds like this korero needs to taihoa. You two might like to get a cup of tea and chill out." Her tone and expression gave no room for argument.                                              

Later, back properly in my body and gazing up at Lissa as I fed, I tried to settle my beating heart. The discussion had been distressing and so had the strange experience of observing it from outside my body. My thoughts crowded relentlessly, bumping into each other, and I knew an invisible boundary had been crossed. A doorway opened into unknown possibilities, my event horizon beckoning, welcoming me into a future too incredible for comprehension. 

In the recesses of my mind a small bundle was unwrapped; memories carefully packaged tight, although it was not yet time for a full reveal. I had existed in a dream-state, then experienced the startling conclusion of my birth. Now the truth was dawning. Memories were slowly being restored. I found they did matter – very much. 

I'm Reyna.  Still fuzzy with confusion and jumbled memories, this reality made no sense. Faith is my daughter. But how did my grand-daughter, Elissapeta, become my mother?