In which I learn the awful truth: I am not sterile!
Lucy Chase carried all six of her babies for ten months and every one weighed over ten pounds. Dr. Williams, the obstetrician, refused to believe that she had a ten month gestation period—and, of course, doctors know everything... Well, John was as overdue as Lucky had been, so when we finally went to St. Joseph Hospital in Ann Arbor we were much relieved that this baby was finally deciding to enter the wide world. Contractions became frequent and so Lucy Slosson—who had studied medicine at John Hopkins and always was allowed in operating and delivery rooms as a result, and I, took Lucy Chase in just after supper time. I waited in her room to which she was to come after the required seance in the Recovery Room. I waited. Seven o'clock; eight o'clock; nine o'clock. Every once in a while I would get a progress report from Chay's mother or a nurse. Water broken, baby is on the way, etc., etc., etc....
Finally, a little after midnight (a good four hours after my eight o'clock bedtime, I crawled into her bed and went to sleep. I was awakened by somebody screaming: "Get out of that bed!!! Get out! GET OUT OF THAT BED!" A rude awakening. The nurse who had come in to double check on the bed for Lucy Chase was standing there red and disheveled and shaking with rage. "YOU ARE NOT STERILE!!!"
My smart mouth could not resist such a cue.
"Of course I'm not. That's why we are in the maternity ward!"
I was so proud of this retort that I have no memory of anything after that—except finally getting to see Lucy Chase—and later our new beautiful baby boy.
Composed Saturday, 22 August (the day before John's 59th birthday) 2009; Transcribed by Robin© Jim Bob Stephenson 2009