Beatrice Make's Her Appearance

         Seven years ago, Beatrice Rebecca Herrington was born in a hospital near Lake Michigan during our vacation.  She is our fifth child and next to our last born.  She wants the perfect party to take place at the beach, this year.  She expects us to comply to her every wish, which isn’t all that demanding, but I’ll get to that later.

         I probably had no business going on vacation that summer, when Bea was born.  I was six months pregnant and experiencing twinges of pain besides great exhaustion.  I didn’t think much of it at the time and went about getting ready for our departure.

         The whole month of July has always been reserve for our family’s vacations; it’s a tradition we started with our honeymoon.  We own a cottage on a wooded lot located not more than half a block from the public beach.  The cottage is fairly large as my husband, Basil Gene, bought it with a large family in mind.  The family was large all right, we were presently working on our fifth child and three years later we completed our offspring with Patrick our youngest.

         One activity we’ve always looked forward too during our vacations, as well as Bea’s party, is the fireworks display on the evening of July 4th.  There’s a huge peninsula jutting off the side of the beach where we swim; it’s used for displaying the beautiful fireworks in the celebration of our country’s independence.  Bea has always thought this display a neat way to conclude her birthday parties.

         As I said earlier I probably shouldn’t have come on vacation and I understood this when my labor persisted on the beach during the fireworks display.  We were so enjoying them, too; I hated spoiling it for everyone when the time came to go to the hospital.  After the first half-hour of fireworks I had to tell Basil what was fast developing on my list of things for him to do.

         “Honey,” I began, I need to go to the hospital, I…”

         My voice trailed off as he got a good look at me; sweat running down my forehead and tears down my cheeks spoke of the trauma I was feeling.

         “Clara, honey!  Why didn’t you let me know what was happening?”

         The other children stayed with our very best friend, Ruthie Cooper.  She is one of the locals we’d met the very first year on our honeymoon.  Basil and I drove toward the entrance gate where we spotted a police cruiser.  When we explained our plight he gave us an escort to the nearest hospital.

         We didn’t have to wait long till Beatrice made her appearance.  The next morning when Basil wheeled me into the critical care nursery, for a glimpse of her I got all teary eyed.  She was the tiniest…the littlest baby I’d ever seen.  All the wires and tubes hooked up to her were necessary but cruel looking.  Her eyes were covered with a mask to protect them from the rays they put her under, to rid her blood of the bilirubin; the jaundice made her appearance yellow.  I didn’t get to hold her the first three weeks while she was on the ventilator helping her to breathe.  No wonder she was so insecure the first five years of her life; this place was lonely.  She no longer heard the surging of momma’s blood and the steady pumping of my heart to know I was right there with her.

         Her birth weight was 2 pounds and 9 ounces.  We were very fortunate this hospital had an updated unit to care for preemies.  We couldn’t have picked a better place for Bea’s birth.

         After four days my doctor released me to go back to the cottage with my family.  Every day thereafter I brought Bea an eight hour supply of breast milk.  With her bilirubin condition she needed regular formula mostly.

         The La Leche League international were kind enough to loan us an electric breast pump.  This is an organization created by seven women, which provide information and support to breastfeeding mothers.  They were a real encouragement to us through those first weeks of Bea’s life struggle.

         The other children got to visit the nursery one at a time during the six weeks we waited for Bea’s release.  The seven year old twins Ashley and Emily got to go into the nursery to hold Bea.  But the four year old twins Billy and Suzie had to look through the nursery display window to view her only. They all reverently awed the thought of her being ours; they had a sense of heightened joy and looked forward to the day she would join our family at home.  The day did arrive; we all went home together to embark upon our new lives as the proud family of this preemie.

         Bea’s first year with us was a learning experience we all benefited from.  She is the first of all our children that didn’t have a twin to tag along with.  She seemed to need someone all her own.  Ashley and Emily were both good at carrying her around and keeping her entertained.  They learned to change her diaper and give her a bottle.  Billy and Suzie took turns holding her, too.  I would position both of them in an overstuffed chair and place a pillow across their laps.  I alternated the direction I laid Bea’s head, each time.  They enjoyed just looking at her, at first, and then they’d start touching her gently on the top of her head and finally they’d explore her tiny hands and feet.  It never failed to amaze them as they considered her size compared to their own. 

         I’m sure Billy and Suzie taught Bea to walk, they always took her between themselves to walk with her.  It wasn’t difficult for them with her size, as she was still not caught up to where a one year old would normally be.  She lacked a good five pounds in weight and some in height.  She was wiry though and had good balance.  So, when she did try to walk on her own at thirteen and a half months she had good success.

         A terrible chest cold set Bea back in her developmental skills when she was twenty-six months old.  She was on medication and slept more than usual, which caused her to lose her ability to walk for several weeks till she got her strength back.  She was unusually cranky and unwilling to be left alone.  I had to hold her more often and coddle her for comfort.

         Pat was born when Bea was three and that is around the time she started playing the, “I want to go with you”, game every time she saw me dress up to go away.  She began to talk clearly in her third year and let us know everything that she needed or didn’t need.  But, when she was four is when we noticed she could really wrap us around her little finger.  No matter what it was she wanted, she usually got it.  We had to start cutting back on the favors we granted her.  We didn’t want a spoiled brat.

         Bea, getting the sniffles every time I went out is one way she tried to manipulate me.  Handling it in the tactful way I did, made her understand she didn’t need to go everywhere I did.  So, when she got the sniffles I would ask her what the matter was; encouraging her to tell me her woes.  She always pulled me down to her size and whispered in my ear.

         “I don’t want to stay home while you go away. Take me with you, Mommy.”

         One day I had an appointment for her, and instead of coming right out and telling her she was going with me I decided to tease her.

         “I’ll be home before you know it, Bea, now go get me a hanky out of my top drawer.”

         While, she was getting a chair to climb up and get my hanky, I’d usually sneak out the front door.  But this time I was still there when she came back.

         “Why aren’t you gone, Mommy?”

         “Well, honey, because I’m going to take you with me.”

         After doing her special 180 degree dance around me, she said,

         “Can I wear my silky dress?”

         ”It’s the one I want you to wear, darling”

         I really didn’t care what she wore because we were going to see her pediatrician, which was not her favorite place to hang out.  I didn’t want to make her upset by telling her she was going to the doctor or she’d have set up a howl and fretted all the way there.  As it turned out she didn’t get a shot after all, and she learned that the doctor was a really nice guy.  She learned she could put forth a little trust in others.

         The first day of school was a charmer for Bea.  It was a red letter day for her teacher, Miss Berkley, also, who told me later about Bea’s behavior.

         “She was okay right up till nap time. Then she started throwing a fit.  She wanted her Pooga.  I couldn’t understand what it was she needed.  That’s when little Scottie come to my rescue.

         ‘She wants her action pooch.  It’s a Thunder Scout pet.  You know, the newest super babe in the stores.’

         I didn’t have the slightest idea what he was telling me, but I looked in my desk drawers till I found the teddy bear I’d stored for such a situation, and sure enough she took it and laid down for her nap.  She never gave me any problem after that.”

         Last summer at the beach the local ladies got together and brought a dozen cakes for Bea’s party.  It was such a unique idea that we decided to do it again this year.  Besides this Bea, also, wants all her beach friends to play birthday games with her; she suggested games such as pin the tail on the donkey, Duck, Duck, Goose, Twenty Questions, and Blind man’s Bluff for only a few.  She also suggested a piñata filled with candy and trinkets.  This year she wants ice cream treats from the Ice Cream Truck that comes to the beach.  She claims that it’s the only ice cream she cares to have for her party and that would make it perfect.  Well, at least she’s not a teenager, yet, demanding a brand new car.  I think we can learn to just say no before it get to that point.

         Today is the day of her party, and as I look down the beach I see them coming.  Bea is walking along with them.  They are bringing cakes for the party.  All the children are following the parade.  Strangers are looking on with interest; their children want to follow, and they do.

         We all settled down for the final hurrah of the perfect day.  As it grows darker we see a light on in one of the two cabins, on the peninsula.  That has never happened before.  We wonder about it; the other cabin has its porch light lit.

         The fireworks begin to explode and the sky lightens; the sound of hundreds of gunfire shots echo around us, reminding us that the freedom in this country was based on the loss of many lives.

         We ask around, after the fireworks, and find out new ordnances required an emergence crew on the site of a fireworks display.

         I ask Bea how she liked her party and she hugged me tightly before exploding with inner satisfaction in the form of a grin.

         “Oh, thanks, Mommy!  It was the most perfect party yet!  I love you so.  I have been thinking and I think for next year I would like to…”

         I playfully put my hand over her mouth and said,

         “Hush, child, I won’t hear of it.”


Word count:  1994