Not Your Usual Water Fountain

Monday promised to be the first of many challenging days ahead. This was the day my newborn son would come home from the hospital. I was so excited I could hardly breathe. The year was 1968, a few years before hospitals required mothers to attend parenting classes. I was the youngest member of my family and I wasn’t a babysitter, my knowledge of babies was minimal at best. I did know caring for a newborn wouldn’t be easy, yet I felt confident I could learn. There was only one hurdle to cross before I could begin my motherly duties, we had to get home.

Since my husband was a new employee, he couldn’t leave work to pick us up from the hospital. Much to my dismay, his father volunteered. Harvey was a farmer, more familiar with driving down rows of corn than busy highways. Consequently, he refused to drive on the Interstate. We would be taking the long way home. The normal thirty minute ride would take much longer. To add to the fun, we would be traveling over bumpy, pothole laden back roads in a car without air conditioning. Fortunately, my mother-in-law, Florene, thought to bring a fluffy pillow for me to sit on. I was hot, tired, and uncomfortable. I dreaded the ride, but couldn’t wait to get home.

While waiting on Harvey to find his way out of the parking lot, Dori and Terri admired their new nephew. Dori once said, “Newborn babies are ugly. They all look like little birds.” Brian easily dispelled that fallacy. He was number one on the cute chart. We watched his every move, laughing when a quick, little smile flicked across his sleeping face.

“It’s only gas,” Harvey said, bringing more laughter.

“Look at the way he holds his little hands,” Florene observed.

The car lurched forward. In addition to the usual discomfort after giving birth, I feared developing whiplash. I bit back a curse when the car came to an abrupt stop at a yield sign. It would be a long, painful ride home. Harvey waited for traffic to clear and pulled onto the street. I suspected I might be in trouble if the city streets were rough enough to cause major pain. As it turned out, those streets were smooth as glass compared to the country road Harvey turned down.

The car swerved from side to side as my father-in-law tried, in vain, to avoid Grand Canyon sized potholes. The road was narrow. Meeting a car meant driving on the shoulder, which was similar to driving sideways across a plowed field. My head hit the roof a few times. I’m not sure how many. By now, my brain was a little foggy. About a mile back, I popped the top on a can of Sprite and swallowed one of those Darvocet tablets my hero, the doctor, sent home, “Just in case.” What was it he said? I believe it was something about unbearable pain. I think Doc may have been a former passenger of Harvey’s. I told myself we would be home soon, only twenty more miles to go.

A good hour and a half later, we pulled into my in-law’s driveway. The plan was for my husband to pick us up after work. I thanked God for allowing me to live, and carefully removed myself from the car. Dori asked if I wanted to carry Brian into the house. I tried to stand straight enough to take him in my arms, I couldn’t. I shook my head, turned, and hobbled toward the house, carrying that useless pillow.

Once inside, Dori put the baby in the bassinette and tucked a light blanket around him. I ignored the pain long enough to bend down and place a tender kiss on that sweet baby’s face. Love swelled up in my heart as I collapsed, slowly and carefully, into a nearby chair. I lay my head back and closed my eyes. The pain lessened some, at least enough for me to fall asleep.

About ten minutes later, the sound of a baby crying startled me awake. I groaned, inwardly, and opened my eyes. I was almost out of my chair when Florene said, “You rest. I’ll take care of the baby.”

Feeling a little territorial and wanting to be the first family member to change and feed the baby, I said firmly, “I’ll do it.” Florene sat down to watch.

I gingerly made my way into the kitchen, filled a pan with water, and turned on the stove. I located a bottle of pre-mixed formula and put it inside the pan to warm.

Back in the living room, it was time for a momentous occasion, the changing of my first diaper. I pulled a cloth diaper from the diaper stacker, and approached my baby boy. His face was bright red. I’m pretty sure he was letting his mother know he didn’t like waiting. The tiny cry I remembered from the hospital seemed much louder now that he was home. I spoke in a soothing voice, telling him his bottle was warming and asking him to please be patient. I was about to learn my first mommy lesson.

I unsnapped the legs of that cute, yellow outfit my mother gave me to bring him home in, and then removed his rubber pants. I carefully unhooked the diaper pins, remembering to place them out of reach, and opened up the diaper. Almost immediately, a stream of water spewed upward. Since I wasn’t prepared for this turn of events, my reaction time was way too slow. I stood stock still, staring, not knowing what to do. Everyone else started laughing.

Fortunately for me, Florene was experienced. She raised four boys. The moment my confused eyes met hers, she was on her feet. She grabbed another diaper from the stacker and promptly placed it over Brian’s fountain of youth.

“Always keep one ready,” she admonished with a smile.

Once the laughter died down, so did my confidence. I decided to consult the expert, “So what other surprises should I know about?”

“You’ll learn,” she promised. And with her help, I did.

As the sun settled into the west, my husband came to take his family home. It was time for one more ride in the car. Fortunately for me, this time, Harvey wouldn’t be driving.

Story ID:	4336
Written by:	Betty (BJ) Roan (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family History
Location:	Greenup IL USA
Year:	1968