ONCE WASN'T ENOUGH

The instructions from the doctor before I was released to go home with Barbarie, were explicit about what to expect and when we could resume a normal married life. I don’t believe I've mentioned that there was never anything normal about my system.

I presumed everything was going according to clockwork, but did use precautions. That a certain cycle had happened only once in four months after Barbarie, didn't raise any alarms as that was normal for me.

Whether you have discerned it from my other posts or from reading my novels, I belong to a Lutheran congregation. Somehow I didn't manage to get Barbarie baptized at three weeks, but the Pastor paid us a visit and arrangements were made. Lanny sat there listening and said, “I've never been baptized.”

Pastor Schaller was a bit startled and asked him about his beliefs, which were Christian. Once Lanny found out the baptism would mean that he was baptized a Christian and not into a denomination, it was arranged he should be baptized the same day as Barbarie. Mama, my sister-by-marriage, Edna, and Lanny’s mother prepared most of the food for that day just six weeks after Barbarie's birth.

Barbarie remained a “fussy” baby, but she rolled over at three months, sat up by five months, presented me with her first tooth as a Mother's Day present,and crawled at six months. She would take off with that pacifier in her mouth and giggle at the same time. She had outgrown the cradle by three months and was in a regular crib. We also had a high chair and a bounce seat. I did not have a playpen. I thought they were terrible.

One morning after the baby’s bath and feeding, I was house cleaning and the hemorrhaging started. This time I had enough sense to put Barbarie in her jumper and me on the sofa with my feet up in the air. After about fifteen minutes, she began screaming as loud as possible. Since this was Phoenix and the month of May, the door was open. I assumed someone would hear her, but no one did.

After another fifteen minutes, I was able to get up and tend to things. Once that was done, I called the OB again and made an appointment. I was told to go to the hospital if that started again. In the meantime, I wasn't to lift anything. Yeah, right. I had a six month old baby and no dryer. All the clothes were hung outside which meant I was lugging the wet laundry from the washer to the clothesline besides lifting my little girl.

I do not remember whether it was two or three days before I saw Dr. Gullen. After the examination, he grinned at me. “You are five months pregnant. The baby will be born on November 28th. My nurse will set up the appointments.”

For a moment I stared at him. This was ridiculous. My youngest brother and I are but eleven months and three weeks apart. I had told my Mother that I would never do such a thing. This meant my children would be eleven months and two weeks apart. God must have really been laughing at that one. It pretty well ended my using the word never. Then another scenario hit me.

“Since I had a rather severe bout of hemorrhaging, will that affect my baby?”

“I can’t answer that question until the baby is born. You know that,” was his reply.

Yes, I did know that and spent the next four months worrying and praying.

It was as though once the secret was out, my body expanded. Actually, it filled up like a water balloon. Anywhere you touched me would leave and indentation. The medical answer then was to prescribe water pills. They really didn't make any difference. They also suggested compression stockings. I tried that and thought I was going to die of heat suffocation in the hot summer time of Phoenix. For the first time in my life I was feeling the heat more than others.

This time the abnormal craving was for grapefruit. I happen to be allergic to grapefruit. If I ingest it, it returns immediately at a much more rapid pace than when devoured. I refused to buy any, but finally the yearning became so acute, I purchased a can of pineapple grapefruit juice under the premise that the pineapple would hide the grapefruit. I put the can in the fridge and waited until it cooled, opened the can, swigged it down, put the can down on the kitchen table, and ran out the back door. I made it to the edge of the carport before I did an imitation of a baby’s projectile vomiting.

Barbarie started saying words at nine months. “Ock” was clock, “oggie goggie” was doggie (yes, we had Willie at that time), “Dada” was Daddy, and “no” was no. I would read to her, sing, and play counting games. She would hear Lanny’s truck and go, “Dada.” I would say, “That’s right, now say, “Mama.”

Darling daughter would look at me and say, “No.” Yes, she was a Daddy’s girl.

I didn't bother telling the doctor that Lawrence would be born before the 28th, but I did tell him it would be a boy. Of course, he chuckled at that. He did tell me to go to the hospital the minute the pains started. Let the hospital call him.

Thanksgiving that year came early and we celebrated it over at my mother-in-law’s house. By this time, Barbarie was eleven months and walking. She also had quite a vocabulary. I was miserable and bloated. I barely ate anything. Both Lanny and my Mother-by-marriage were worried about me. That night the pains started at about 1:20 p.m. It took longer to gather everything this time as we had to wrap Barbarie up against the chill of the evening. She was not happy about leaving her bed.

Once she was safely at Lanny’s Mother's place, we headed for the hospital. At that time Grand Avenue and Thomas could be blocked by trains. Of course, we were. I swear if we would have had a car instead of a pickup truck, I would have crawled in the back and had my baby.

This time I didn't argue when Lanny carried me into the hospital. The people took one look at me, put me in the wheelchair and rushed me to the delivery room. Once again, no prepping and no time to call my doctor. The resident was called in again.

I was really disgusted that this time there were two mirrors and I couldn't watch. They did give me a shot of something as this baby was larger and it was necessary to do what they called “cut.” I ended up with two stitches. One wouldn't think seven ounces would make that much difference, but it did.

They placed the cleaned baby on my chest. He looked perfect to me. His hair wasn't long or curly, but he had hair. His legs looked really scrawny compared to his sister’s, but he had the huge shoulders and hands of my husband. Lawrence Duane Collier was born at 4:30 a.m. I had been in labor just a tad over four hours.