28
September 2016
“simple as that,”
"my little doll" ----
Baby, Baby … … Baby !
I gave birth 37 years ago this
day. That entire deal ? Stunning.
Two other, very, very wee kiddos of
mine, only 13 months old and 37 months old at the time on this date, needed to
be looked after when, alone with only them beside me, I went in to labor with
my and my belly’s third baby boy --- then grown by me into bulldozing –
maturity.
I telephoned my daddy. His
line was busy. I tried again; the line was still busy. This was
1979, around noontime: lunch time for the two with the weer one longingly
and so, so sorrowfully stating up in to my eyes, “Mommy, I hungry.” At this
plaintive plea of Jacob Thomas’ his two tiny hands gripping both of my
kneecaps, I recall, at that time of the next pain, thinking how many women
everywhere every hour registered inside their ears and up in to their brains this
same mewling: the World over, “Mommy, I hungry.”
Contractions were five minutes
apart; membranes intact, but I was allegedly exactly three weeks past Dr
Hesse’s oft – stated ‘due’ date so this was it: the real deal. O,
and my father by the back road, the one that led right in to the university
housing complex’s parking lot, was over 30 miles away. At least and
fortunately, the blacktop wasn’t iced over; it was September in Iowa, not
February. Again, Daddy's telephone line was still busy.
I pressed the ‘ 0 ‘ on my
telephone’s pad; and when an actual voice came back in to my ear, stated to it
thus, “I don’t know if this is an emergency enough, ya’ know, enough of a reason
to try to break in to my daddy’s line, Operator, I truly don’t. I am
having labor pains every five minutes; I’m overdue, ‘nd it’s my third baby, and
aaah, ah, well, my daddy needs to come to look after my other two little
ones. No one else is here. He has to come, well, quite a ways
actually. Um, it’s over a 30 – mile drive at least. Do ya’ think …
… ? ”
“HELL YES, Woman ! Now !
I’ll do THAT right now ! What’s his phone number ? Now
! And you, you Woman, call your doctor right away. Do it now.
Hang up and do it now ! I am breaking in to your father’s conversation
right now. I’ll get ‘im there. Call your doctor!”
Willard Albert William Maas drove, I
know he did around that blacktop’s four S – curves and the rest of its length
upwards the entire stretch of mileage at over 90 miles per hour, screamed his
“baby” – blue Seville to a halt into the lot’s parking space at nearly a 45 –
degree, askewed angle; and we three watched Daddy on those O – so spindly
tibial pins of his and with that already thrice – attacked ( at least once by
that poliomyelitis virus of 1939 through 1941 ) heart – muscle actually .run.
himself over to our itty – bitty apartment’s front door.
Knowing precisely two things:
i) that Jacob Thomas and Zachary Adam would now not only both be heartily fed
but also well looked after and ii) at where inside that building its labor and
delivery suite was located, I did not wait for any wheelchair nor elevator –
lift but, instead, climbed to it from the hospital's entrance the four flights of back stair steps. The crown of the head of Micah Abraham Zebulon
was exiting as I listened to Dr Hesse’s wingtips clamoring down the
hallway. He burst in to the delivery room, grabbed off of the equipment
table a sterilized towel, turned around from it to me; and, exhaling that last
Lamaze – laboring breath of mine at 2:16pm, I finished … … this particular
matter.
No comments:
Post a Comment