OCTOBER 27,1947
Suzanne Eileen arrived at 3.39PM on Monday afternoon, the 27th day of October. 1917, a swift birth with no anesthetic, no time because a student nurse 'w o-u id n' t believe I -was so close to having her. There was no time for all the preparations I was rolled onto a stretcher and rushed to the case room. The Doctor didn't even get there. This baby was impatient to be born.
Mary who was sitting with me got hungry and went home to Kohler Street to eat a piece of pumpkin pie, and Suzanne was there when she got hack.
Suzanne is fair haired and blue-eyed, She looks as much like a lost leprechaun as her sister did at the same age, that I am not so worried about in time she will develop.She and her father have just recently been formally introduced. On his face there was the tolerable look of a new father, on hers the "Where am I?' puzzled frown of the newly born.
I find that it takes two babies to make a real mother, one who is a woman as well as a mother. The first child is all encompassing -- all important. The second is just as important but not as much of a strain on the sense of humor. You become a person again.
Overheard in the Hospital;
“You know Mr. Delaney, your wife doesn't t really need, the doctor yet!”
"I don't know! I don't know a damn thing!All I know is that my wife wants you to phone her doctor-- so phone the doctor”.
"Yes, Mr. Delaney."
Conversation at Dusk:
"This is your enema. Mrs.Guillamo”.
"Nope!
"Yes! Mrs. Guilliamo, you didn't have a BM either yesterday or today,"
"Sure me did! Me s--- yesterday. Me s----today. Me s---- allala time..
"Please! Mrs. Guilliamo”.
"Nope!”
I put on the bed jacket preserved from an otherwise worn out trousseau.
Ironical that the time for ribbons and fluff, pretty jackets and nighties is
in the hospital after a baby however, if one is affording babies, one isn't
likely to own such. When one can afford such luxuries, one won't be having
babies! Life!
The bus pulls up in front of the hospital with much puffing of airbrakes and disgorges its load of early visitors. There is a parade of fathers and relatives to the glass-walled nursery, and much pointing- to the cocoon--like objects in the tiny cribs. Relatives and AAhs faces pressed to the window."That one. No, not the one crying- Two cribs over. The one with the black hair''. "Oh, the sweet, dear pet. Look at him, he has his mother's eyes.
"I do believe her hair is going to be curly. She's happy it is a girl. She has three boys - 8 pounds 30 ounces A fine big boy!
NOVEMBER 2, 1 9 4 7.
I waken to the lonesome chant of 'Dies Illa. Dies Illa'--- the haunting requiem for the Poor Souls- It is All Soul's Day. The wealthy young blonde in the next room can't take her baby home. He is too tiny and must gain weight before he leaves the nursery.She has made a party of her stay here the hairdresser and manicurist parade in and out. There is laughter, and tinkling glasses. Her husband brings a daily offering of flowers and candy. Her bouquets and flower baskets clutter the hall at night. Her nighties and negligees are out of this world. (I gossip with the maids so I know...
But her baby is in the incubator and I hear her complain to her husband "But I can't go home from her without something darling, really I can't. You must bring Jinx down and at least I will have him Yes I can carry Jinx." Jinx, so the grapevine tells me, is her Pekinese.
Says Sister Kenneth with a twinkle, 'She can carry me, If she likes!''
It is over now -- at last--- with the baby's first cry, but my dinner is spoiled, the tea is cold, and the dessert has shriveled. The sound proofing is not what it should be in this old General Hospital where my room is directly across from the Case Room. My own baby is too new, her birth too recent to allow me to calmly eat dinner while listening to the primitive sounds of another woman in labor. I wonder if any woman ever could.
The halls are quiet now. There is the silence of relaxation that comes only after tense listening. Every woman on the wing has been helping a child into the world.Most of the time the O.B. wing is a happy place. It should be. There is more of life than death here more of recovery little sickness.
The babies in the nursery sound like kittens in a basket. The nurses walk lightly, their starched skirts crackling with their activity. The nuns' veils rustle and flap with the speed of their passing.
When a doctor comes on the floor it is as if he mounted a charger at the end of the long corridor and rode through to the blaze of trumpets. A nurse trots in his wake, or a nun.
Depending on your "date" and your condition, there is serious discussion or light talk, and much teasing and laughter. The Doctor's visit is one of the highlights of the day, for a good obstetrician is a woman's guide, counselor, and confessor. She has more confidence in him than father or husband. Nine months consultation make friends of doctor and patient.
Now 'the trays are being taken around and 'there is a rattle of china through 'the halls. Soon the babies will come. The nursery door will open, the white-masked nurse will walk quickly to her destination, as every woman in every room pricks up her ears, wondering, "Will this be mine?
The hungry babies (and most of them are in that condition) wail plaintively while the nurse makes the cluck cluck, clucking sounds of comfort for the young.
The nursery door closes and there is quiet, a peaceful, happy quiet until the process is reversed and the babies go back to 'the nursery; this time without wails; this time to the tune of soft hiccupping and little baby bleats. Satisfaction. Supreme satisfaction.
There is a short time now for bed-panning, washing of the hands, for bed straightening , for hair-doing and lipstick before the visitors come again.
For two hours there is laughter in the wards, and soft music from radios in the private rooms.Mail time is also flower time. Cellophane encased tiny bouquets. A small porcelain pink and white baby carriage spilling over with rosebuds and sweet peas. A 1itt1e ceramic girl curtsying and offering a nosegay of baby mums. A sturdy blue china boot filled with bachelor’s buttons and miniature carnations.
There are letters, too. Dear Kay and Wilf: We are so happy to have heard, a dear little girl . . . Cards: "To the proud parents".. .Fragile things, frilled and ribboned, frolicking with pastel teddy bears, dainty with lace...A parcel from the drugstore, "To the new mother: Our baby department is well equipped to supply the articles required for a small child. Until it is convenient for you to make a personal call our free delivery is both prompt and efficient. We are sending you herewith, a small gift .....The baby powder has a delicate fragrance. • Hmm. . . Must give them an order. There is the clatter of trays as the old dumb waiter unloads our meals. Clop, clop, clop the maids bring them from room to room down the hall.
The routine is interrupted by the whirr of the elevator, and a clang as it arrives. There is a bustle and flipping of papers at the Nurses Desk.
"Mrs. Allan, come with me to Room Thirty. This is your first baby, isn't it?"
There are slow, careful footsteps and a pale-faced bulging woman passes my doors one stricken-faced man at her side.
Oh, dear! And supper time, too, OH well, there is time to eat before we begin to time her pains.
The day is ending.
There is a whiff of anesthetic as the Case Room door opens to swallow a figure on a stretcher. There is a hush of waiting, then a tiny, trickle of moans through thin walls, and we all breathe more easily. Aah! This is a quiet case.The bouquets are put in the halls. The bed is relieved of its welter of wrinkles. A back rub. A cup of tea. A cookie. Warming attention Sleep.In the night stillness, soft voices.
There is a whiff of anesthetic as the Case Room door opens to swallow a figure on a stretcher. There is a hush of waiting, then a tiny, trickle of moans through thin walls, and we all breathe more easily. Aah! This is a quiet case.The bouquets are put in the halls. The bed is relieved of its welter of wrinkles. A back rub. A cup of tea. A cookie. Warming attention Sleep.In the night stillness, soft voices.
A lovely baby girl! A deep voice, "A girl? We Sort of thought a... A little girl! She's
Turn over, and sleep again. A new father has just been born.
The Order of Nuns who own, manage and serve in this this hospital also have Mission hospitals in China.
Today my doctor, and the Floor supervisor-- a middle-aged nun home from China on leave for a couple of years-- were planning, as they made the Rounds, how they would start a hospital in China when he "retired".It was just a joke, of course. The only way either one of those cheerful, overworked two will ever retire is when they make a date with Saint Peter. And I'm willing to bet that Doc will he diagnosing a cherubim's tummy ache fifteen minutes after he passes through the Pearly Gates. Sister came into the room this morning, her eyes swollen with sleep. 1 hope the Good Lord will forgive me, but I am afraid that I dozed through most of Mass and Meditation, this morning. Five o'clock is too early an hour to be talking to the Lord. I just got into bed and got nicely turned over when I had to be up again!"My brother comes bursting into the room, very pale of face, and out of breath. What happened to you?" "Boy, there's this dame in the elevator in a long white nightgown with a coat over it and she's all bent over, and she's almost having her baby. There were three men in the elevator too, and they all looked scared stiff.' "Of course, it didn't bother you!" "Oh, no." And he lights a cigarette with shaking hands.
Later, that evening, the Night Supervisor, a personal friend, wanders into the room. "1 hear you nearly had an elevator baby say I." "Yes, we just got her into bed and delivered her. She was from the country. Her car broke down. "Did you ever have one in the elevator--- or in a car?"
"No, the closest to that was the lady who drove herself up to the ambulance entrance--her husband couldn't drive--heaved herself out, climbed onto the stretcher, and had her baby. "Her husband yelled, "I'm getting outa here!" He picked up his wife's flowered hat instead of his own, jammed it on his head, and disappeared,
"That," she said, "Was one of the biggest laughs of my career.
"Another self-sufficient woman brought herself up on the elevator, walked to the Case Room door, put her bag down, called a passing student nurse, and said, calmly, 'I'm having my baby.' We managed to get her onto the table, but not undressed. There's never a dull moment around here. Well, I must be off. There's an operation over on Third."
Hospital rooms and hotel rooms have this much in common: they shed their occupants identity the whisk of a duster. I am going home so I pick up the cologne and the toilet articles. Take down the pink and blue cards. Lay out the clothes for Mother and Baby. The black suit-- fitted-- oh, joy! The high heeled pumps (if only I don't wobble and turn my ankle after months of sensible heels!) I roll up my things and put them in the corner of the suitcase.
Hospital rooms and hotel rooms have this much in common: they shed their occupants identity the whisk of a duster. I am going home so I pick up the cologne and the toilet articles. Take down the pink and blue cards. Lay out the clothes for Mother and Baby. The black suit-- fitted-- oh, joy! The high heeled pumps (if only I don't wobble and turn my ankle after months of sensible heels!) I roll up my things and put them in the corner of the suitcase.
I sign the cards for the nurses" small thank you gifts, To Sister St. Kenneth for her lightness of heart.. To dark-haired Miss D. for her unofficial cups of tea when I couldn't sleep- To the scurrying students who always had time for a smile . To the nursery nurses who swore that my scraggly looking offspring was one of their cutest babies-- To Mrs. H. for her conversations when I needed company and for her cool, swift hands on my aching back-‑ How can you really say thank you with only candy and perfume? All that is left of me, now is the make--up kit on the dresser. When it goes, I go too.
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