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Maxine's Story
Susan
A perfect family---that was my idea of four children, two boys and two girls---every child having a brother and sister. Since there was no way to just order another daughter, we were taking our chances!
What the other two siblings thought about a new baby I've forgotten, but Hank, Dean and I were all in agreement. Our family wasn't complete! Actually it was craziness on my part. My health was shaky---pregnancies were downright misery, and we already had a baby. Dean was not yet two. Our family of five people seemed to fill our house and I wasn't as young as I used to be. I could think of a lot of reasons not to do this again. Since my last 'pregnancy' had taken so long to happen, I fully expected more difficulties---but no sooner had we decided we needed another baby, than there was one on the way!
By now Dr. Thompson was swamped with work and the Tigard Clinic brought in an OBGYN. Just two days a week, but that was enough. All the young women I knew were thrilled! A real baby doctor! Things were going to be different! His name was Callas, and he quickly gained a reputation as an excellent physician.
One of our neighbors was expecting twins, but halfway into the pregnancy, miscarried and nearly bled to death. The struggle to keep her alive went into the night, wearing out the husband, who came home to get some rest. When he returned the next morning, and saw Dr. Callas, he said "You are here early". The good Doctor replied, "I never left her."
Our hero! I was soon to find out however, that his 'bedside' manner wasn't always warm and fuzzy. He had a real thing about weight gain. Now Dr. Bissett didn't seem to care what you weighed. Dr. Thompson encouraged no more than twenty pounds, and would monitor and advise. Since I lost weight the first few months of each pregnancy and was facing hospitalization should it continue, I never really found it to be a problem. But Dr. Callas made such a fuss when the scales finally showed an added few pounds! It reached the point where I wanted to say "Look at yourself Fatso!" My hormones were all stirred up I suppose, and I began to dislike the man intensely.
We had discovered by then we had a mutual relative. (His cousin was my Aunt)---but I wasn't impressed. He had no more miracle cures for a miserable pregnancy that Dr. Thompson did. At the end of my nine months I had gained thirteen pounds and I felt like he owed me an apology. He however, seemed quite satisfied that he had done his job.
Sleep had been a big problem in my third pregnancy. I couldn't get enough. I slept away the first several months. Not with this one however, which was fortunate since I had a toddler who didn't toddle at all, but rather ran. Right from the start, he couldn't get to trouble fast enough. I had to be aware of where he was and what he was doing every minute. I was due to deliver the second week of June, but like the others, this one was early.
Dr. Callas used the Wilcox Memorial unit, an annex to Good Samaritan Hospital, which I found to be of interest since it was also the place of my husband's birth! ('Wilcox' closed down in recent years.) He also used a new procedure for the actual birth, called an epidural. This was new to me, and I looked forward to it, though there were reports and rumors of severe headaches afterward. Dr. Callas said "Nonsense" and gave his patients pillows---which none of the other doctors did, and sure enough, I was headache free!
This became the only birth I ever witnessed, and thanks to the epidural, with no pain at all at the end of the labor. It was an awesome experience. Fathers were not yet admitted into the delivery room. It was just me and Dr. Callas. His kindness to me throughout the birth, wiped out all of my negative feelings.
As he lifted this tiny body from mine he said not one word, but oh so quickly rushed the baby to a place where several people began to work frantically. There was a hushed silence, broken only by a nurse who said quietly, "You have a little girl." In the brief glimpse I had she seemed to be an alabaster white! (We laugh about that now, forty plus years later, her skin is still almost alabaster white!)
After a moment or two I asked the nurse when she was going to cry. No answer. It was so unreal! Another moment or two and then finally it came ---a tiny thin wail! They continued to work with her---she was filled with mucus. Soon she began to sound stronger. I remember thinking "Whatever these people charge for their professional services, they earn in just those few minutes bringing life into that tiny body.
She was 6½ lb., the same as my other daughter. The two boys were 8½ lb., and they alternated, so each girl seemed so tiny! The date was June 2, 1960 and the name we gave her was Susan Deloris. Her middle name is for my sister, who had died in 1955.
When I woke the next morning in my room, I found a dozen long stemmed red roses! The first and only time I ever received that gift of flowers from my husband. He was so thrilled to have another child! On the third day in the hospital Dr. Callas stopped by at feeding time. I was attempting to breast feed this baby but she was too sleepy to care. He watched for a few minutes and then asked how long I had been nursing. Then off he went to weigh her, returning in a few minutes and announced: "This baby is puny, lethargic and jaundiced, and you are going to put her on a bottle"! I bawled.
Over the years we have often laughed over this puny lethargic daughter. She grew to be 5' 9", was my healthiest child and worked and played with great enthusiasm---was in fact our only athlete in high school.
We had something else to laugh about after I came home from the hospital. I received the bill from Dr. Callas and paid it, though I had a question or two concerning the charges. So on our first visit to his office, I asked what the 'S' meant on the statement. The answer, “surgery”. I said “on my baby?'” and they said “circumcision” and I said “on SUSAN?” Even they had a good laugh! They showed me where Dr. Callas had reported her birth as a boy! Fortunately I was awake for her birth and could verify I was given the right baby!
Once home we were all excited---especially Dean---who couldn't wait to get his hands on 'his' baby! In fact this was a serious problem, and I felt the need to protect her from his loving attention. He was two and a half years old and he actually got her out of her crib and carried her to the door, only to drop her as he tried to open it. I had to watch more carefully!
If I insisted he could not touch the sleeping baby, I would then find strange marks on her head where he lovingly licked her since he couldn't use his hands.
She was a good baby, but then why shouldn't she be! There were five of us anxious to hold and care for her. Unfortunately this only lasted a few months. As she grew she decided she liked her Mother's attention best and she became more and more my responsibility---and I was on the go! Hank had been helpful with our first two---but could not be counted on for much of his time any longer. His business was all consuming---business, church and softball to be exact. But I was able to handle all the obligations and demands of growing children.
David, a mature twelve years old by then, was my best source of help. I actually had my own babysitter! He was not only willing but very competent. It was wonderful! He grew into such an authority figure in the lives of the two little ones, it became a problem. He felt free to tell them what they could or couldn't do--- and they felt free to tell him he wasn't their mother---not their boss. As the years went by this caused lots of fusses---and I was caught in the middle. I needed and appreciated his help, but tried to not put too much of my responsibilities on his shoulders.
Dean & Susan watching the 'old' Traveler
Susan's constant companion and cohort, was of course Dean. They were inseparable. Because he was a 'rough and tumble' boy, she soon became a good match. They were like a pair of cub bears, wrestling, tussling, and chasing---never ceasing to enjoy each other.
One memorable day he came out of the bathroom with the scissors and announced "Susan is a gentleman"! And there she was with a shorn head! She was just beginning to get hair down below her ears---blonde curls and oh so cute! Gone. It was really gone! Handfuls into the wastebasket. I began to cry---and cry. Dean tried to comfort me---"Don't cry Mama, Susan is a gentleman!" He wasn't yet four and we were just beginning. Actually I cried a lot those years. I wondered why I was giving vitamins to those energetic kids when it was obvious I needed them!
They were in constant motion---and I could hardly keep up. While I was busy cleaning up one mess, they were in another part of the house creating another. I watch young mothers today and they seem to have a better handle on these things than I did, but then I've not seen another two little children with the energy, exuberance and enthusiasm mine had. Always, always happy and enjoying life to the fullest.
Susan was a screamer! She screamed at everything and blamed Dean. Close observation clearly showed she instigated a lot of the trouble, and while their constant “MAMA, DEAN .... ”, or “MAMA, SUSAN .... ” wore on my nerves, they were clearly enjoying every minute!
I simplified my life at that time, partly out of choice---I had little energy for much social interaction, and partly out of necessity. My two little 'cubs' were hardly welcome in anyone else's home---trying even to my parents who adored their grandchildren! I'm sure everyone thought I could do a better job of keeping control. Dean got most of the blame, but I knew Susan was responsible for some of the problems. . .
We gave up restaurants. Occasional fast food or 'take out' worked---we didn't have to worry about food fights in public places. (Years later, on the eve of Dean's departure for his mission for the Church, I felt it was finally safe to take our 'adult' children into a nice restaurant for a family dinner. We did fine until the dessert came. Would you believe a food fight erupted?)
We were at a family wedding---the bride was coming down the isle---and suddenly we had a tussle develop! Always in good humor---always enjoyed by the participants, but totally out of my control. Not that I didn't try punishment of all kinds! They just seemed satisfied that whatever the cost, it was worth it!
Church was a challenge. I sat between them but that wasn't enough distance. We spent a lot of time in the foyer.
The day came when Dean started school. None of my children had the opportunity to attend pre-school or kindergarten, so he was nearing his seventh birthday when his public education began. It was a bleak day for Susan. She lost her constant companion! She was a pathetic figure. Not only he was, gone for much of the day but he also began to make other friends. He went into another phase of his life---and she, left behind, was bereft.
Our neighborhood has always been rural---and there have been few children close enough to be playmates. There were surely no little girls around for Susan. In a few years the Scolar family moved in across the street, and they had a daughter close to Susan's age, but most important, one who had, and loved, horses.
When did we realize Susan's passion was for horses? As a little girl she begged for one. Hank loved horses himself, and had owned them previous to her birth, but at the time, we were horseless. She greeted him at the door as he came in from work with "buy me one or be one" and he would get down on his hands and knees and 'horsy' her around the house.
This was great fun and went on for years. As she grew bigger it became less fun and one memorable day, as they were 'galloping' around the family room, Hank caught his big toe in the register for the cold air duct, and tore off the nail. It was then he began to think seriously about buying another horse---though in fact it took another couple of years to find the right one.
There was also another problem we had to acknowledge. For lack of a horse to work with, Susan began training a steer we were raising for beef! She could ride him and was teaching him to jump---would put a saddle on him! Now we had to butcher this animal and we could see real problems ahead.
Hank found a horse.
A book could, and should, be written about 'Ben', and Susan is the one who should write it. He was a real character and we laughed and enjoyed his idiosyncrasies---he became a family legend.
He was a wonderful companion for a young girl. We watched them carefully at first. She was leading him with a short rope---tripped and fell right under his feet! He stood exactly where he was with one big hoof poised exactly over her little head while she untangled herself and worked free, pushing the hoof aside! After that we relaxed somewhat, and began to call him Gentle Ben! He was the first of several horses she was to own, and I owe a lot to those good animals. We had no problems with this child. She went into and through her 'teen' years with little difficulty. She kept fully occupied, working, caring for and enjoying her horses. She became skilled in dressage, took hunt-seat lessons (English saddle), did the 4-H shows in Washington County, rode the local trails and beaches. They had countless picnics, where she shared her sandwiches and cookies---or any treat. She learned on the first outing with Ben---he didn't want his hay, he wanted her lunch. Thereafter she just made him a sandwich and whatever sweet she had, she shared. He stopped dead in his tracks at the crinkle of a candy wrapper. He even liked breath mints!
Her friends came to our home to share her horses. Those powerful animals would stand for hours, apparently enjoying the attention and the grooming. They were bathed, curried, brushed, combed, clipped and polished---a never ending job, but one she took complete responsibility for, and never complained about.
One summer day I received a phone call from a lady I knew only casually. She said she had just driven by our home and grazing in our front yard stood the horse with Susan draped over his back and her radio sitting on his rump---just enjoying her life! She asked if Susan was giving us any problems. I could honestly say "no, she was not". This woman had a daughter the same age. She went right out and bought a horse.
Sometimes Ben, who was mostly a Morgan, became an Appaloosa---white shoe polish spots on his rump! At Christmas time his nose was painted with lipstick, and he became Rudolph---and delivered cards and goodies to the neighbors. He took her to grade school---she could ride him in the morning then leave him in our second pasture, directly across from Durham school, then ride him home in the afternoon.
At first it was just Ben---then came Sean, Brigham Young, Lamanite, and Angel---who was Hank's horse. She tied them in a line and paraded them up and down 79th St. She really wanted a pony, one she could train from the start and one who had more 'class' than those she had owned so far. She went horse hunting again and soon found exactly what she wanted. A little 'Arab' pony, a gray, and he was a beauty. She trained her 'Hadji' well. He was a handsome animal---and intelligent. She rode like she was born to the saddle, or bare-back, it didn't make any difference.
As she grew into adulthood she began to realize she had a problem but was able to hide it. She had become allergic! To many things, but primarily to horses! By the time she married all the bathing and changing of clothes no longer helped, and she could scarcely breathe if she handled her horse. We kept Hadji for years but finally had to accept the fact she could no longer even touch her beloved friend. It was a sad day when he was sold. She had a love for other animals as well---and the patience and skills to train them.
Dean brought a puppy home. One he promised was vicious (part wolf) and would protect us and our property. (We had recently been robbed.) Why we agreed to that I'll never know, but the moment we saw that darling baby we had to laugh. He was the sweetest dog ever born! Dean's 'Wolf soon became Woofie, and he was both intelligent and obedient. Dean was sorely disappointed, but as he went off to his other interests, Susan took over and trained the dog. He could do numerous tricks and was a joy to all of us throughout his long life. There was plenty to keep her busy. She was an avid reader and a good student. She was also an athlete, playing all the sports at Durham, but excelling in soccer. This was before soccer became quite so popular. She played right through high school, and played well.
She was also involved in Church teams, primarily basketball and volleyball. She soon earned the nickname 'Killer' for her aggressive style. All those early years wrestling with Dean weren't for nothing. She was tall and very strong, and loved competition.
Puny and lethargic? Dr. Callas would have been astounded. At my last appointment after her birth, that good Doctor asked me if I had ever considered adopting my children---said I didn't have to go through that ordeal, babies were available for adoption! Remembering Dean's desire to get a baby, as soon as Susan began to talk I would ask her if she would like one. The answer was always the same---'NO! I am the baby'! It seemed like a good time to stop. We had our 'perfect' family, and I was satisfied.
Susan will read this and find the errors and omissions. Then I will say to her as I have the others, "This is not your life story, only an introduction, or your birth story---the rest is up to you." She has the writing skills, superior to mine, and I know there are experiences she should share.
Years ago I read a book about the importance of 'birth order'. It was an amazingly accurate description of my four children---especially this last born. She was---and remains---our happy outgoing socialite! She can find the fun in most any situation, is loving, caring and generous! I have not included the story of her beloved pink pussy willow tree here, since it is told in a previous chapter, but it is typical of her outlook and personality. Quirky, even a little bit crazy, but a joy to her family then and now! She was and always will be, our baby!
Pages 114 - 122
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