Remembering B

B indicates Book Entry below blog.

I remembered to go do my cleaning chores at The Vine today instead of showing up a day late as I did last week. I made sure I was prepared and even bought gas last night rather than needing to do it on the way this morning.

There was a crew of brothers at the church setting up a hot tub to use tomorrow for baptisms. Cool! No, hot!! Well, actually, the water was sort of luke warm when I tested it. I am trying to envision the logistics of baptizing a full grown person in a hot tub, even though this one had no seats. Will the baptizer stand in the tub or to the side? What posture will the baptizee assume? Fetal position? Pike?

The house is pretty well clean and all I really had to do today was laundry, which I spaced because I got lost in Odd Hours, Dean Koontz' latest book. I finished it shortly after dinner. A very good read. Light but suspenseful. But then, I am a Koontz fan, anyway.

Richard and I sat in our south facing Florida room (that sounds so phony!) and enjoyed listening to a thirty minute downpour punctuated with sporadic claps of thunder. The shower rode in on a wind out of the north, so we were able to leave the windows open and take in the fresh scent of rain on grass, also to feel the temperature drop by at least ten degrees in a matter of a few minutes. We love that room with the pretentious sounding name.

And my day was like this...
23:50 Sleepy. Early for me. Bed wins, not even "Odd" can keep me awake tonigt.
08:34 Leaving to go clean at the church. Maintenance meeting this morning.
15:24 Enjoying peaceful afternoon at home as I join Odd Thomas in one delightful dilemma after another riding on the wondrous words of Dean Koonz.
15:30 @cybrgrl How fun! I checked out Oasis 21 on the web. I know it's old, but I love Isaac Asimov's sci fi.
19:40 @cybrgrl Asimov did much to expand literary fans' concepts of sci fi. He was the first to get me interested.
20:23 Time to finish Odd Hours. Quite a good read.
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Remembering

Although she gave no verbal hint, Edgar could tell Thelma was in distress. His sister Faymie could see it, too, and suggested Thelma might want to lie down. Soon everyone agreed it was time for the housewarming party to break up so Thelma could get some rest.

Rest didn't help much and by morning, they knew Thelma needed to see a doctor. An hour later, she was admitted to the hospital with dangerously high blood pressure.

"Pre-eclampsia is a big concern, especially with your wife's family history," said Dr. Boynton. The doctor addressed only Edgar even though Thelma was in the bed in front of him. "We need to induce labor immediately and take every measure to deliver this child quickly before her condition worsens. We don't want her to go the way her mother did."

Edgar didn't like this doctor's manner. How could he talk that way in front of Thelma? But the man did have a way about him that made you think he knew what was what. He guessed he could put up with the fellow if he could give Thelma the best of care.

After signing a stack of papers he couldn't read, Edgar was led to a waiting room and left to wonder how in the world they could make a woman have her baby before nature brought on labor. He would have to trust the doctor. Thelma liked the man, trusted him. Thelma idolized doctors, anyway, and he resented that. Her brother was a doctor.

Donald was nice enough. Never acted uppity. But Edgar always felt Thelma overly esteemed him and talked too much about all his brilliant escapades and the time they lived together while he was in med school. Edgar had only finished the third grade and could barely read, and it irritated him to hear all this talk about how smart Donald was.

Edgar never told people he couldn't read. As the oldest boy, he had been kept home to work on the ranch as soon as he was old enough to be useful. His folks had a homestead out in Willard then. Life on Colorado's high plains was harsh and his father was gone much of the time chasing dreams of finding gold in the mountains to the west.

Albert Snider had a wanderlust and a spirit of adventure and soon after marrying Ruth Cooper who was rock solid and practical to the bone, left Iowa with his young bride on a quest that would finally take them to Colorado. His family was dismayed that he would give up the tidy piece of Iowa farmland his father had deeded to him and head off into the unknown with virtually nothing.

They were both gone now, and sometimes Edgar could hardly bear the ache he felt for their lost life together. His mother never stopped working and built quite a good life for herself and the kids. His dad never stopped chasing impossible dreams and often fueled his enthusiasm with alcohol. They never divorced but usually didn't live together. Sad.

A nurse in starched white rustled in and Edgar marveled at the outrageously pointed cap that seemed magically glued to her skinned back hair. She was stark! "We're in labor, " she announced. It was a proclamation, and once made, she turned on her heel and marched out as briskly as she had entered.

We are in labor. We. Edgar wondered what part the pencil thin nurse would play in the labor, certainly not the pain, and he doubted she would do any laboring, as in work. He laughed softly and resumed reminiscing.

He thought fondly of the time his father sent him off to auctioneer school. His sisters had been so mad about that. They wanted transportation to high school in Sterling and were afraid there would not be money left for that. They got a new car for school, but Ruth had probably funded that. 

Edgar never clicked in the auction business. Too much structure. He went to the gold mines instead... for a while. Then he learned welding as an apprentice and took to it for the money. More than once, though, the mines drew him back, but prospecting was even better. Always the chance of a big strike. He knew he had his father's blood in his veins.

Yes, he was a lot like his father. Had been, but not now. Now, he owned a house, was going to have a baby! He promised himself that he would never leave his wife and baby behind. They would always be a together family. If he had believed in God, really believed, he would have prayed. As it was, the best he could honestly do was wishfully hope for happy endings.

Thelma's labor was long and fraught with danger. Her blood pressure was out of control and her kidneys were not functioning well. After many hours, when she was stalled the final stage of labor, a rather aggressive instrument birth was achieved when Dr. Boynton realized he might lose both mother and baby.

It was after three in the morning when, sweating profusely, the triumphant doctor announced "It's a girl!" and held a squalling baby high in the air for the new mother to see. The nurses shrieked in delight, then as suddenly as the celebration began, the room became still and Dr. Boynton slowly lowered the now quiet child into the isolette.

Thelma was barely conscious but sensed the grim change of mood. "What's wrong with my baby?" she demanded. "Tell me, tell me now!" She tried to raise up, to see her child but found she had not the strength to even raise her head. Dizziness and nausea overwhelmed her like a flood. Someone put a mask over her nose and mouth and she was rendered unconscious with her first breath.

It was August 17, 1939, and Edgar held Thelma's hand as a nurse carried in their new baby girl. Dr. Boynton followed close behind. "The baby has what we call a wry neck," he said. "As you see, her head leans toward the right shoulder. The muscles on the right side are ill formed and there isn't much neck movement possible. I'm going to refer you to a specialist who can help deal with the deformity. Physically, she is fine, but we won't know whether she is retarded right away. Children with this deformity often are, so it's best if you are forewarned. I'm terribly sorry."

He droned on, but Thelma stopped listening and carefully unwrapped and completely undressed the baby, HER baby! Lovingly fondling each finger and toe, she looked up into Edgar's brimming eyes and said, "She is perfect and we can beat this." Her eyes were dry and her jaw set in determination. She rewrapped the baby and held it up to Edgar who gingerly took her and began to pace.

"This baby is going to be strong. She's being named Iona Ruth after the two strongest women we know, your mother and mine. She'll be smart, too, and go to college. You and all my sisters are college graduates. She has a heritage, expectations to keep." He turned toward the window so Thelma would not see the tears dripping from his chin onto the pink flannel of the receiving blanket.

He had never been so happy nor so sad in his life.