A Story, A True Story

March 19, 1922.  A young couple, both from Sweden, now living in a small town in Nebraska, are expecting their second child.  Their oldest, Evelyn, is around 5 years old and is excited to have a new baby.  Matilda, or Tillie as she was called, was 9 months pregnant on that cold March day.  When she woke that morning, she somehow knew this would be the day.  A mother's intuition, perhaps.

She had left Sweden as a teenager and would not return until she was almost 90.  She endured a lot of hardships in life, leaving her family at a young age, traveling to a new and foreign country where she didn't speak the language, but this night in 1922 would perhaps be her most difficult.

She was tired to be sure.  They owned a farm and she cooked everyday for their farm hands.  Fresh bread, homemade cinnamon rolls, freshly churned butter.  You name it, she made it all from scratch.  That was really the only way, of course.

That day wore on and a huge snow storm blew in.  Oh no, this isn't good.  Surely the baby would wait a few more days.  Later that night, Tillie went into labor.  John, frantically hitched up the horse, threw a shovel into the wagon and took off for town to fetch the doctor.  The poor man, bless his heart, literally shoveled his way into town.  There was no getting a horse through this storm.  He could hardly see in front of him.  But his wife was about to have a baby.  He had no choice.  He had left his five year old daughter and his laboring wife at home while a raging snowstorm was blowing snow sideways across the gravel roads, piling atop fenceposts and blowing the birds about as they tried to light on the feeder.  He shoveled on.  Many hours later, he reached the doctors home.  With cold hands, weary arms and a frantic heart, he pounded on the door in the middle of the night.  The doctor's wife answered.

"Yes, how may I help you?"
"It's my wife.  She's in labor.  I need the doctor to come quickly.  I have a horse and buggy ready.  Please, hurry.  I've been gone many hours already."
"But, the doctor isn't here.  He was called to an emergency in a nearby town hours ago.  I don't know when to expect his return."
"What am I to do.  My wife is home with our five year old about to have a baby.  The snow...I'm so far away.  I can't go home without the doctor.  I can't lose my wife or my child.  I need him."
"We'll fetch my midwife friend.  She's delivered babies before.  Surely, she will come."

Meanwhile, Tillie is laid up in bed in much pain as any woman in labor would be.  There are no drugs, no one to wipe her forehead, no one to give her sips of water.  She is alone.  She has sent her five year old out of the room.  If she is to die, she does not want her child to witness it.  She will fight for this baby who is eager to come in the midst of a snowstorm.  She will pray to God Almighty for his strength and to see her baby through this safely.  And please, have mercy on dear John out in this miserable blizzard.  Why today of all days?

Evelyn stands outside her mother's bedroom in tears.  "Mommy, are you going to die?  Please don't die, mommy," she cries.  "Mommy, what's happening?  Where is daddy?  Please don't die...."

The baby comes.  Tillie delivers the baby alone, in bed.  With a scream and tears running down her face she gives one final push and there she is.  A beautiful baby girl.  It is March 22, 1922 and Evangeline has made her triumphant entry into the world.  Tillie holds the babe to her chest and falls fast asleep.

Many hours later, John arrives home to find a hysterical five year old.  "Mamma has died.  There's blood everywhere.  There's a baby..."  He and the midwife enter the bedroom with dread in their hearts.  Yes, there is a baby.  Yes, there's much blood.  No, Tillie is not dead.  She has delivered a baby alone and is very weak, but very much alive.

That was my great-grandmother delivering my grandmother.  What a strong woman.