Thursday, June 22, 2017
At Age 12 I 'Adopted' My Baby Brother
I can't remember exactly when it happened, but soon after my mother came home from the hospital with him, she discovered she had a blood clot in her left leg. All I remember her telling me in the middle of the night was she'd experienced pain in her leg. It had turned black. They woke me up to listen for the baby while my father rushed my mother to the hospital. Back then the treatment for such a blood clot was far different than it is today. My mother ended up staying in the hospital for most of the summer. I was taken out of school early to help. My aunt who lived next door-a nurse with four children-stepped in as well. She'd take my baby brother as much as she could which was a lot. He'd sleep there. She'd care for him-feed him-bathe him. I wasn't happy with the arrangement. He was my brother and I wanted to do it all. Looking back, I thank God she was there. I never would have made it. I think she felt my frustration so we devised a plan with input from my father who was very busy being a funeral director, visiting my mother in the hospital, and helping me keep the house picked up and cooking and watching my younger sister. We decided I'd go to my aunt's house after my brother's morning bath-bring him home and take him back after supper, depending on how things were going. It worked. I had him most of the day. On sunny days I'd put him in his carriage and go for walks, visit my grandmother next door, or sit alongside the rock garden. When he slept, I'd read a book. But there was one time it didn't work. Not at all. I thought he'd end up in the hospital alongside my mother.
It happened when I kept him home for supper so my father could see him. I was so proud. I'd cooked the meal although I can't imagine now what it was. My aunt had just started feeding my brother cereal with some Gerber applesauce or pears so when my father and I went shopping, I bought him some chocolate pudding. I thought he would love it. But it turned out just the opposite. He became very sick and I became very nervous. I thought the days of 'adopting' my baby brother were over. But they weren't. The adults weren't as worried as I was and when my mother heard what I'd done, she didn't have a problem with it. But my father did throw out my supply of that chocolate pudding in the jars.
When my mother finally made it home, she had to take it easy. But at least she was home and feeling better. The top picture shows her outside sitting down while I rock my baby brother to sleep in his carriage. The bottom photo shows my parents next door at my grandmother's for a picnic. You can see the bandage she had to keep wrapped around her leg even when she went to bed.
That summer which began early for me was one I will never forget. I'm just glad my baby brother hasn't a clue, especially when it comes to the chocolate pudding.