Redheaded Jill

If you are not in a mindset where you can handle the sad today then please don’t read this post. I am heart broken over something that happened 70 years ago and I am angry that nothing was done or could have been done to prevent it.

When my Grandma Fish was 18 years old she gave birth to her first baby, a girl. She was bleeding a lot so the doctor (in an attempt to save the mother) killed Grandma’s baby.

They then proceeded to keep her sedated for the next week because apparently that was considered a good idea.

I just learned that factoid.

My mom was at a family reunion last weekend and she asked my Grandpa’s sister if she, Aunt Louise, had seen Grandma’s first baby.

Louise said yes, the baby was absolutely perfect with a full head of hair. The most beautiful baby there ever was. I was confused because I thought nobody got to see the baby, but no. People go to see her, because they had a funeral. They just didn’t let Grandma go. They kept her sedated in the hospital and buried her first born, never giving her a chance to hold or even see her baby.

Apparently Grandma and Grandpa had been living with his parents. Grandpa’s Dad was really close to Grandma and would tease her, “We just want boys, so if it’s a girl leave her at the hospital.” He was joking. He didn’t mean it. The baby’s death was the cruelest example of irony. Great Aunt Louise said it was the first time she had ever seen her dad cry.

The first time I heard anything about this story I remembered thinking, “Did they sue the doctor? How could he get away with that?” Grandma explained, “Well honey, I was bleeding a lot.” As if that makes it ok. I bet she was bleeding because she gave birth with too much intervention. If they had allowed her to be in a natural position she might have been fine. I bet she was told to lay on her back. This leads to your tailbone blocking the way making it more difficult for a baby to leave the birth canal.

After Grandpa died Grandma once told me, “We never talked about things… I wish we had talked about things…” They never talked about their baby. But Grandpa mentioned her on his deathbed. He hoped there were rocking chairs in heaven so he could hold his baby girl. I tear up every time I think about it.

I was up much of the night last night mourning for my Grandma and her baby. I was overcome with anger. Why was nobody protecting them? Why did they sedate her? Why did the doctor kill their baby? Why did nobody talk to her afterwards? Grandma went on to have six more kids. I cannot imagine the terror of childbirth after an experience like her first one.

Grandma never went to therapy. She never did EMDR. She never imagined comforting her 18 year old self, going through one of the most traumatizing experiences a mother can go through. She never got help. Why? Why did no one help her?

Things make sense to me more now that I know this. Grandma’s inability to cry after Grandpa’s died. Grandma’s callous approach to so many situations in life. Grandpa dying of lung cancer despite being an extremely healthy and fit man. (Grief is stored in the lungs.) 70 years of grieving your firstborn and never talking about it. Keeping it all locked inside. No wonder Grandma literally fell apart physically. She must have had so much stored up trauma and sorrow and grief and depression. It’s amazing her body held on until she was in her 80s.

I sincerely hope that my Grandparents are in paradise with their first born daughter, enjoying time together until God sees fit to call us all home.