Tuesday, August 13, 2013

The First Four Things Mother Never Forgave Me For

2


It was the weekend of November 20, 1976. My mother and father had separated a year and a half earlier and she had settled into a two story town house apartment a couple towns away from home. The bottom level was a large open living room/dining room area with the kitchen as a large alcove behind the stairs. I had fallen into watching the weekend evening news, perhaps to feel a sense of my father as, had I been living at home at the time, that's what would have been on the television. My mother was in the dining section where she had set-up the ironing board to iron some clothes but was, as it turned out, listening even though she was not watching. The broadcast ended with a small segment about the upcoming anniversary of the John F. Kennedy assassination and after it ended I turned off the T.V.. As she continued, she stared at the ironing while she told me the story of my birth, ''What you have to understand is...
'On the day JFK was assassinated, people did strange things,' she explained. 'People were stunned, a mother would forget to feed her baby all day, fathers came home early from work.' While the news had come too late in the day for school to let out early on the east coast, class had pretty much unraveled as the news leaked out; the children came home in a pall, even if they didn't know the details of the news at the time. My parents had the news coverage on the T.V. and all were heart broken as the details unrolled over the next few hours. First JFK had been shot, but was alive, then news that he arrived at the hospital. Then there were reports that he was dead. Then news of the Vice President being sworn in on the plane.
By the time the final details of that afternoon and night had rolled out, all were exhausted and emotionally shattered. My mom and dad shepherded my siblings to bed and then retired to their bedroom as well. Mom dropped to sit on the bed and started crying. Dad tried to console her by sitting next to her with a hug. Then a kiss. Then a longer kiss... And a little bit later I was conceived.
My mother had been appalled by where dad had taken things, but she was too tired to fight him off. And even though they normally used protection as they were strict practitioners of family planning, my mother consoled herself that, being in her late thirties, she was too old to get pregnant. In fact, when she missed her next period, she went to the doctor expecting to hear the news that she had entered menopause.
Instead he concluded that she was pregnant and my mother panicked. In the days of the early nineteen sixties, there were no ultrasound machines or other devices that could view the embryo and determine the age of the baby. Instead the doctor would simply ask the woman when she thought the child had been conceived and would plan out nine months from that for the due date. Mother shuttered as she realized exactly when I had been conceived and couldn't possibly tell the doctor that. ''October 22nd,'' she told him as she raced to come-up with a different date, any different date, so the doctor wouldn't know of my parents 'shame' the night JFK had been killed. With that date given to him, the doctor noted my expected due date of July 22, 1964.
As abortion was illegal in New England at the time, my mother decided to lose the pregnancy by, as I came to label it, 'poor prenatal nutrition.' When that was unsuccessful, she finally had to explain to people that she was, in fact, pregnant and even came to believe that the due date would be the 22nd of July, after all that's what the doctor had said. By the time Summer rolled around, she had concluded that it would be nice to have a child with a birth date so close to her own and was finally looking forward to having another kid. And July 22, 1964 came... and July 22, 1964 passed. Yet as due dates were estimates anyhow, this was not something in itself to worry about. But a week afterwards, the doctors started to become concerned and asked mother if she was sure about the date of conception. Suddenly, mother realized why I wasn't being born in late July, but once again she couldn't tell the doctors the actual conception date without revealing that she had been lying to everyone all this time. So she stuck with the October story and the doctors concluded that they had to induce labor by early August if I wasn't born before then.
And I wasn't.
Knowing that I shouldn't be due until late August, mother convinced them to wait until the beginning of the next week, but then there was no choice and they took her to the hospital. Back then, my mother said, the common anesthesia in rural New England was still the ether cone, a system where ether was poured onto gauze or a sponge inside an upside down metal cone. This cone was then placed over the mouth and nose of the patient and the ether fumes would put them into a daze or to sleep. This is how they anesthetized my mother as part of inducing labor she told me, though drowsy, she was not out. After labor was induced, they found that I was not yet in the heads-down position and came out one foot at a time. The staff struggled to get me out and by the time they did, I had been strangled to death by the umbilical cord... That was my mother's last memory.
The anesthesiologist had been so involved by the drama of the doctors trying to resuscitate me that he didn't notice my mother had gotten an ether overdose and slipped away. Once they revived me, they chucked me aside and worked to resuscitate my mother. They succeeded in reviving her though she didn't come to her senses until she was in the hospital bed to recover, her last memory being the doctors saying I was dead. And yet, when my mother awoke, here in the arms of my sister was this undead creature, wriggling about and making noises.
This was when my mother truly freaked out!
Oh, for those keeping count: Being conceived, Not miscarrying, Being born dead, Not staying that way.



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