Labor

By the end of 1980 I was preparing for the birth of my first child. Other than suffering morning sickness the first few months the pregnancy had passed quickly, with no hiccups except that I seemed to have gained quite a bit of weight.  I had made my monthly trips to Dr. Cyrus on the mainland, who owned a lovely little private hospital overlooking the botanic gardens.  The baby was due the beginning of March, and after my check-up at the beginning of February I knew that the next time I made the trip to town it would be to have my baby.

Mac and I had discussed genes when I first realized I was pregnant.  My ancestry was WASP all the way, my mother’s family hailing from England, my father’s from Scotland.  Mac on the other hand had a white father of Scottish descent with a colored grand-mother mixed in.  Momma Simmons had various hues of color in her family history, and together they had produced several children ranging in color from white to dark brown.  Mac assured me that he knew all about genes, indicating at the same time that he did not expect me to give birth to a black baby.  I didn’t worry too much about it, but genes CAN play funny tricks at times!

On February 11^th a group of friends were partying at our house.  I had noticed a twinge in my back periodically, and after a while realized that the twinges were coming at regular intervals.  My friend Vanessa was there, and as she was an experienced mid-wife I asked for her opinion. After checking for contractions she told me she couldn’t feel anything, but as a precaution we went upstairs and packed a little suitcase.

Sure enough, the twinges got stronger across my back, and it was decided that the party would continue on board the Lena Marie, a Baltic schooner crewed by our friends.  No-one believed I was in labor, but if push came to shove (pardon the pun) they could hoist the sails and get me over to the mainland. I was settled on a bunk in the cabin, where Vanessa stayed by my side while the rest partied up on deck.

It didn’t take long before my water broke, and all hell broke loose up above when the crew realized we had to get a move on. Up came the anchor and off we went. By then it was 1:00 in the morning and we were experiencing an unseasonal thunder storm.  The sea was wild as we made the crossing that night, something I was blissfully unaware of as I rocked back and forth in my bunk.

Poor Vanessa, my very own, very sea-sick mid-wife, sat with a pair of roach-clips soaking in alcohol, ready to clamp the umbilical cord if need be.  What a trip!  This baby had decided to enter the world three weeks early, bless her little heart.