Back in 2017, on my birthday, I was visiting my parents. They started talking about myriad things, including when I was born. I pulled out my phone and started recording.
This is some background information. I was the first child of my parents and I was born in February of 1960 in Dayton, Ohio. Dayton, Ohio has known its share of real winters and snow is not a novel experience for Daytonians.
Mom says that they had gone to St Elizabeth Hospital two or three times before I was born but I was just not ready to be born. Finally on the 25th, on a “bad” day with snow falling, ice on everything, and the roads slick like an ice-skating rink, Mom had Dad take her once more to the hospital. They slipped and slid but they made it.
Now back then, as a general rule, patients were not put into private rooms. I imagine that patients with money may have been afforded privacy, but Mom was put on a bed in a ward with only curtains separating the beds.
Mom says that she and Dad were in their cubicle biding the time until I would make my arrival, while in the next cubicle, another couple was doing the same. Mom says that the lady next door started hurting and wailing. As her hurt increased, her wailing increased. Mom says that she had gotten to the point of proclaiming over and over, “Jerry, I’m dying! I’m dying, Jerry! I’m dying!”
Mom decided then and there that she was not ready to have a baby and she made Dad take her back home. So, slipping and sliding they made it back to their little home on Knox. I suppose that everyone was surprised to find them back home so soon and empty-handed to boot. When Mom explained that she was just not ready to have a baby, Granny calmly told her, “Now Rett, when that baby is ready to come, you can’t stop it. You could stand upside down in a rain barrel and if that baby is ready to come, it will come.”
Wise little Granny was right and it wasn’t long before Dad and Mom were slipping and sliding their way back to St Elizabeth Hospital. I suppose that Mrs. Jerry had already had her baby, hopefully, she hadn’t really died, because Mom actually stayed that time. Maybe she had tried out the rain barrel and decided that Granny was right!
Now back then, no one was allowed in the delivery room except for the mom-to-be and the medical staff so Dad was out in the waiting room. Mom says that they didn’t do epidurals back then and after listening to Mrs. Jerry’s dying, I don’t think that she was up for trying natural childbirth. She says that the doctor gave her a little Demerol and after that, she wasn’t feeling much pain. She tells me that it felt like she had floated up out of her body and was looking down upon herself. She says that she didn’t really feel pain but looking down, she could see herself and could hear herself grunting. Pretty soon, she was greeted by a most beautiful little girl baby. I am very sensitive to light and I can imagine I was crying rather indignantly wondering why these rude people had taken me from my cramped but cozy womb into a bright, noisy delivery room!
Sometime later, Mom reentered her body and was transferred to a room. Dad was able to come in to see Mom, and when the nurses brought me around, he could see me. I imagine that it was love at first sight. I know that it probably was for me and in sixty-one years of life, I have always known that I am loved, so I imagine that it was for Dad too.
Thankfully, I was a most perfect baby in every way because the day I was born ended on a low note. As Dad was driving home from the hospital, someone slid on the icy road and rear-ended him. Cars back then were built tougher than today and his car wasn’t really damaged. He also had a perfect baby and wife back at the hospital so no worries!
So, I’m not sure if the story of my birth is unusual to most but I don’t hear about out-of-the-body experiences every day, especially when it is my mom traveling out of her body. Of course, she says that it was just the Demerol that made it seem like she was out of her body, but I like to think that she did that so her face could be the first one that my sensitive eyes would see!
Mom and me
Love your story! Love your pictures. Being the youngest of nine, my baby pictures are a little lacking, guess they were sick of taking pictures. ha ha ha.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much. I can understand your dilemma. I have three children and we have progressively fewer photos of each of them. I am really thankful that my parents could afford photos at all. 🙂✌🏻
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