This is the story of Suzanne
Suzanne was born so soon after Mary Jane, at 14 months that
they were babies together. Mary Jane, even at an early age, was fast paced, walking
and talking, impulsive and sparkling, with a phobia about all things soft and
fuzzy. She was frantic when we used cotton batten to oil the infant Suzanne.
Mary Jane just
developed in the womb, and got born at a steady pace, well under the time
allotted for a first birth. The fact that I had anaesthetic did not affect her
any. The nurses couldn't believe that she was actually holding her head upright
and checking her surroundings shortly after birth.
Suzanne was different. She was restless
in the womb, given to swift jerky movements. I woke up one morning, grossly
misshapen, with the baby crowded to one side. I touched my stomach and she dove
away from my finger. She also sat for a few weeks on my sciatic nerve. Ouch!
She was born so quickly that I almost didn't make it to the delivery room and
the doctor got there after she had arrived.
After birth. She was equally restless. She rejected food, and
lost weight until it was discovered that she was allergic to the corn syrup in
her formula. I had such problems trying to nurse Mary Jane that I didn't even
try for Suzanne. She barely made the required weight to take her home from the
hospital with me, and the very few first months were hectic.
She had colic., slept fitfully during the day and cried most
of the night. I had a path worn from dining room, living room, to hall to
kitchen to dining room, in the McDougall Street house. I stayed downstairs so
we would not keep everyone awake, thus interfering with Jim and Mary's late
evening courtship. Once all the quirks in her stomach were ironed out, she
settled into a routine and was a contented baby.
There were times as a 3-year-old when she would stand in
front of me, stamp her foot and say NO! even though she had not been directed
to do anything. She drove her Kitty-car through the downstairs rooms as if
practicing for the Indy 500. Parking between the chairs, backing in, encircling
the tables, and whizzing around the corners. She was a traffic hazard. As she
grew, she became extremely attached to home. She would not play outside unless
all the doors were open so that she could retreat quickly indoors if a stranger
passed by.
Like her aunt Mary, cats
were her passion. She was always hauling them home, saying they were lost and
crying wildly when I forced her to take them back from whence she had lured
them. We always had a cat. Always hers. Doorbell the first Doorbell the second,
Candy, Daisy Mae and Hippy “The king of McDougall St”.
The tragedy of her childhood was the day her Chameleon ate
the guppies, and the cat ate the chameleon. She and Louise McClurg organized
many funeral processions in the yard at MacDougall St. There is a large rock
there with a nail Polish inscription in memory of a favorite turtle.
When it was time for her to go to school, she was agreeable,
as long as the whole family could go with her. I was the large body in the back
row of the grade one class (she skipped kindergarten)
for the first week. One noon hour Jim McIntyre tied up traffic on Wellington
St. when he delivered her to Sacred Heart School, and had to pry her fingers
from the car door and leave her writhing and crying on the sidewalk.
This frightened little girl. Eventually became an unflappable
emergency nurse. Thus, Suzanne is a contradiction!
This is a
story written by my mother.
I found it
after she died in an envelope with my name on it.
