Monday, September 29, 2008

A change in our decisions

When we first married, we had jointly decided that we would not have a child until the war was over. As time passed S came to the conclusion that he wanted us to have a baby or one on the way before he had to go overseas. I was glad he made that call, for I was torn. Was it fair to a baby to maybe not have a father. I kept thinking of talk by the GIs who told of the short life span of a junior officer. And I guess that prognosis would have come true, for if S had not got Scarlet Fever while he was residing in a German foxhole during the Battle of the Bulge, he probably would not have made it.

And so back to the baby making. Months went by. No luck. And now with the guest on our sofa, less time would be spent on that problem. A good friend of mine who heard of our quest gave me one her husband's American Medical Journal in which an author had made research in how to find when ovulation takes place. The woman has to take her temperature vaginally every morning before getting out of bed. A chart has to be kept of the most minute changes that take place. I did it for several months and a picture developed of the changes and I seemed to have a 28 day cycle. If at any time I was a day or two late, I would make a beeline to the nearest Baby Store and order equipment that I would need nine months later. And then a week or so later I would tearfully call to cancel the order. The last time they saw me in that store they said: We won't take your order until you are at least six weeks pregnant.

And now a jump forward in time. S. was home from the war and I was going to an obstetrician in California. One day-he said he had united with a sterility expert and he would be my doctor from now on. So I had all the check-ups over again and when he was finished he said: Now I want you to take your temperature vaginally every morning before you get out of bed.' I said: I have already done that when we lived in Texas. He said: Impossible. It is a new program and very few people even know about it.

And so I told him I had read an article about it in the American Medical Journal and I had taken my temp. for several months. Then he said: "I wrote that article". His name was Pendleton Thompkins and he had something to do with the birth of all our four children. But we had to wait five years for the birth of our first born. I love small world stories.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

I love "it's a small world" stories too. And your life seems to be filled with them. There must be something in your nature (curious, open) which connects you with people. I love your stories.

Anonymous said...

I can't wait to hear more. Most of us only know stories of women of your era who had more children than they planned, and in our era, most of us are in more of the 5 years until the first. Please keep the baby story coming.

Annie in Austin said...

What a wonderful story, Svensto!

Thanks to a twitter comment by MSS I've been reading and enjoying your blog without commenting, but this post demanded delurking!

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

Anonymous said...

Oh my goodness, I thought the temperature charting thing was a way newer discovered than that! Wow!

Sarah said...

I'm going to facinated to read how it took 5 yrs for your first baby, but you managed to have 3 more!! I also thought the temp charting was a new technology :)

~Mad said...

I just love reading you story every day!

Thank you so much for sharing with all of us!
~Mad(elyn) in Alabama
www.xanga.com/madewyn

Anonymous said...

It is charming to me to read when men want to start a family. In most of my life experiences it's not something the males suggest.Also I like the way the specialist said "Impossible!". These days we would say "Excuse me?", but in the times you're talking about doctors were gods weren't they.He was very important in your life though, obviously and what lovely outcomes through his dedication to research. Very enjoyable post Svensto.Thanks.

Emily said...

I've really enjoyed reading your blog. I hope to hear more stories of the five years waiting for children.