24 Hour Leave
24 Hour Leave: A brief homecoming for a home birth By Patricia McFadyen, with my addendum.
There was no sign of World War II letting up, much less ending, yet there was much hope.
My father was stationed at Cherry Point Marine Corp Base in North Carolina, approximately 5 hours drive away from home. His only method of travel on such short notice was his ability to hitch a ride on the main highway. In just a few minutes of his thumb-out signal, a car stopped to give him a lift. This was quite the case during the war that most drivers would stop for a uniformed hitch hiker. They knew it was probably a service man trying to get home.
He would need to depend on this again to get him back in time when had
to return to Cherry Point. He was in a hurry to arrive home and see for himself that all was well with his wife and his newborn baby as this was the day she began labor. However brief their time together, he was determined to be with them for as long as possible. He thought it fortunate to get any leave at all and tried not to think about the Marine Corp right now. He searched his deepest thoughts on the long ride to decide if he was worried about the birth.
No, he said to himself and with an ever so slight smile as he remembered at about age five, his own father called him into the house to see his new baby sister and his mother. He let his mind go back to that day. There was a lady at the house in a long blue apron that gave him some oatmeal with molasses, then she washed him after breakfast and outside he ran. The woman must have been the midwife and relief came over him as realized mothers were not alone when they birthed at home and his precious wife would be attended. He was able to relax now and felt himself nod off while the radio music played. Huh, Crosby, he thought.
My mother preferred to have the baby at her mother in laws home and had moved in with her early in the pregnancy. She was welcomed there and not only would she be with a woman she respected but she had many years of experience as a community midwife. She told mother, “for fact I’ve spent most of my life either raising babies or helping mothers birth.” There was no question in her confidence and mother would have her baby where she felt comfort and security. One other important person would be with my mother during the birth was a friend and nurse who was married to the town doctor who was happy to be part of the team.
Mother especially loved this home, it was a large Victorian style house just two blocks from town. It was roomy and comfortable. The spare bedroom upstairs would be the birthing room and the nursery. The house had large windows nearly floor to ceiling that let in lots of sunlight in the mornings. The light poured in as if to cleanse the air and bring a heavenly feel of restful peace. On the stairs were two landings with banisters leading to a wide hallway upstairs. Every room had a fireplace and French doors made the downstairs hall appear larger still.
With several oak trees planted around the house 25 years ago they now give lots of shade and made the house have a handsome appearance from the unpaved road. It seemed to mother that this beautiful house did have life.
My grandmothers and aunts on both sides of the family would remind me many times during my youth that they visited mother the first few days and weeks after I was born here in this house. I felt blessed. All the women in my family gave birth at home because it was “seemly and normal” they would state matter of factly. I was reminded that many women of the time chose to give birth at the clinic in town or a hospital if they lived close to it but during the war the hospital beds were filled with wounded military or those ill with disease. There was a shortage of doctors and nurses as the war effort required them. Midwives could and would handle the community needs as fine as ever. My midwife grandmother was such a person in her community. She spoke about her work adding that many times she she attended the mothers first since the doctor was off seeing the sick folks. He missed many a birth when the war was over and so many babies were being born. It amazed me that she often walked to make visits to her mothers “just to see how they were coming along”. As a child it was hard to imagine what was meant exactly by “coming along” but later I learned how deeply important my grandmothers work as a midwife was to so many women, although I know not the number.
Grandmother had two sisters who followed her love of service to mothers and babies. They both became midwives that delivered babies as well. They had trained with a doctor who when he saw that they were ready, sent letters to the board of nursing recommending them to become titled as Licensed Practical Nurses. Mother had confidence in the care she would receive and a wealth of support from this family. She had no fear or worry as she looked forward to the birth with joyous anticipation.
On April 20th, 1943 The morning came slowly for mother as a point of light poured in her eastward window as she worked her way toward the large rocking chair in her room. From here she could easily peer out the window toward highway 70 that ran east and west through the town. In the yard the oaks were beginning to show a greenish color on their tips. Now look at those yellow bells she thought and almost yelled with delight as it seemed they had fully bloomed overnight. A good dose of warm spring weather gives us such hope for an early summer, full bloom and bountiful. As she rocked she went over the baby’s name in her head. If a boy the name was certain, if another girl, give more consideration, she though. The middle name could honor her mother in law that had been so very good to her and the doctor that had made his way down a muddy rutty road late at night to assist the midwife when she was born.
It’s going to be soon mother thought as she felt a deep dull pinch in her lower back. Better get on with the day, there is much to do yet. She wished to see my father here soon, wondering if he would be able to come home. Her mother in law had called the Red Cross to send a message to her son that his wife was in labor.
She was a bit anxious as she approached the wide staircase, it was a bit scary lately. Perhaps I should sit down on my behind and inch down each step, she thought. Before she could further consider, she heard the familiar call. My grandmother shouted, “I’m coming up, don’t come down yet, Ruth, I’m coming to get you!” My mother replied, “Yes, please do, thank you.” As I imagine the scene of these two carefully navigating the steps, I realize I am there also, inside my mother womb, waiting to be born.
Breakfast was light but nourishing. As she sat alone at the kitchen table, Mother felt a longing again for her husband, not quite a worry but a deep wish to have him near. Quietly she lowered her head and murmured a prayer and then glanced at the clock, it was 8:00 am. She felt some pain and with reassurance relaxed her shoulders, the time is near she thought.
They went for a brief, slow walk in the yard. When the door opened it was a bit warm already and she let the lovely thoughts flow. What a beautiful time of year to bring a baby into the family and into this world. He would get to see the yard full of blooming yellow bells, if he can come, she thinks glancing towards the road. She let the breeze calm her spirit.
Later mother and grandmother went back up the stairs and called the nurse and doctor around 11:00am. Soon the nurse came to attend her. By all accounts labor and birth was uneventful and the baby came easily at 4:32 pm. A few moments later they heard heavy footsteps coming quickly up the stairs and a frantic knock on the door. “Who is it?!” My grandmother said curtly. “It’s Me” the male voice shouted. “Oh Lord its the doctor,” the the nurse said and all the women snickered. “Alright just a minute,” replied the nurse, louder still than the doctor. My mother sighed relief and grief all at once thinking it was my father for sure. Grandmother opened the door for the doctor recounting that mother and baby girl are fine. “Well thank you,” he said, and was happy to see that all was well, announcing my weight “7 pounds and 10 ounces, good job” with a big smile on his face.
It was 5:50 pm when a 1940 ford coupe stopped on the main road that ran parallel to our road and my father stepped out, bowed and thanked the driver profusely. Mother strained from the bed to peer out the window. She thought she saw him and then he disappeared. He had then turned to make his way down the embankment and across the railroad tracks, climbed up the other embankment and crossed the center street dirt road to the long driveway. Then he began to run up to the house and practically flew up the steps 2 at a time. “Are you here?”Mother shouted, “I’m here, I’m here!” He whispered breathlessly as he came into their room with a handful of yellow bells he offered her. He closed the door behind him and sat down near her. She handed him the baby and took the flowers. As he cradled his newborn carefully their eyes met. What joy and perfect safety.
Many times I would hear about the day of my birth. My mother said I arrived on the wings of spring in peace as a terrible war raged for what became the greatest generation. I believe it was one of the happiest moments of their lives. They must have cried and laughed staying up all night together until he had to leave again.
Addendum By Audrey: Later on as I became a mother myself, curious about home births, Grandmother would recount to me that my Moms birth at home was her easiest one. Saying that she was embarrassed that as she gave one good strong push, she grabbed the nurses sleeve and a button popped off and shot across the room. We laughed and commented that she somehow noticed that was happening as her baby came.
My mother was her second of seven, her third was a breech in military hospital and her sixth was stillborn.