Not Yet….

 

Oh happy day!  It’s my birthday!  A few years ago my mother gave me a stack of cards.  Some of them were shower cards and “welcome baby” cards from when I was born.  Some were first birthday cards.  Tucked in with the cards was a little booklet to help Mom prepare for her impending trip to the hospital.   Based on the note above, I’d say I was a wee bit late in arriving.

The stack of cards sit in my studio.  Each time I am inspired to look through them, I grow a bit melancholy.  I am touched by the love that was poured out at the time of my birth.  Many of the signers of the cards—my grandparents (with the exception of Nana), my great grandmothers, and others—have gone to heaven.  I can feel how strongly I was welcomed.  It’s comforting.

One of the fun things about the little booklet I mentioned is that it shows the cost of having a baby at the hospital where I was born.  The booklet told Mom to plan on a week’s stay.  If she stayed in the six bed ward, it would be $17 a day.  If she opted for a semi-private room, the rate was $22 a day.  For baby (that would be me) it was $10 a day or if she had twins, it was $20/day.  The cost of the actual delivery?  $45.  Yes, that’s right—$45.  Mom told me this morning she remembers the bill being somewhere around $150 total! Back in those days, visiting hours were strictly adhered to.  The little booklet allowed two visitors per patient.  No visitors under the age of twelve.  The nursery hours were short (this is when you could have a good look at the newest member of your family through a plate glass window—babies would be lined up behind the window like little fish in the display case at the grocery store, each in their own little isolette.)  Fathers got special visiting privileges from 7 a.m. to 8 a.m., perfect for a pre-work visit, no doubt!

Yes, it’s true.  I was born a long time ago.  1962.  Which means I’m not 50.  Not yet!  I’m excited because this year I’m looking forward to the next stage of my life.  The one where I become a grandmother.  I know the experience around my grandchild’s birth is going to be a lot different than my own.  The one thing that will be the same is the love and joy with which baby is welcomed.