about all the generous things that everyone has planned for the new baby. Sarah’s never been fussed over that way. I kinda hate to surprise her completely, you know?”
“Well you can’t expect us not to give gifts. She just might have to get used to getting fussed over once in a while. Certainly when it’s a new baby.”
“I know everyone is almost as excited as we are, and want to share in the joy of the occasion. What I had in mind is that maybe you could find a way to sort of prepare her for the fuss. Maybe you could tell her about some other new babies or something?
“She has it in her head that all the gifts for Carlton and Annie’s baby were just because Overby is a first grandchild. And that everyone has known them for so long. She doesn’t expect that here. Do you think you could figure out a way to make her expect it a little bit?”
“I can try, son. She’ll probably dismiss the idea, but I’ll try. That girl hides her light under a bushel basket like no one I’ve ever known. But I suppose that’s part of what makes her so endearing.”
Momma refilled their coffee cups and sat with Hixson at the big table.“What are you hoping for, son: a son to carry on the family name, or a pretty little girl to mirror her momma?”
Hixson’s eyes misted with his search into the future and he answered, “I’m hoping for a healthy baby, whatever God gives us, and a healthy wife to spend my life with.”
There was clearly a lot of meaning behind the words and Momma searched his face. After a long pause, Hixson recounted what Sarah had told him about the passing of the gift. Momma saw immediately that Hixson was worried both about Sarah and also about her gift. Was he adequate to the task? Only time would tell.
December 31, 1866--Dover, Pennsylvania
Sarah and Momma were cleaning up the last of the holiday messes at the Old Farm house. They were happily talking over the events of the past week when Momma decided to try to give Sarah an idea of what was about to happen.
“I’ll never forget what it was like when your Hixson was born. He was my first baby, you know. It seemed like every woman in town had some gift, small or large, for him. New babies are so treasured that everyone wants to get in on the joy of it.” Momma said.
“Well, but, you grew up here. Everyone knew you and loved you and must have been so excited for you.” Sarah didn’t expect any special treatment for herself.
“Hixson grew up here, and everyone loves you both dearly. I expect people all over the township are making baby presents right now. Just because you’re new here doesn’t make it less exciting for everyone.”
“I’d be surprised if they fussed like that over me. They barely know me.”
“Sarah, dear. You’re not hearing me. It’s not just you, though it’s mainly you. People are getting ready to make a big fuss over that new baby, your sweet Hixson and YOU. You’d better start getting used to the idea.”
Sarah looked blankly at Momma for a moment, and finally realized that Momma wasn’t making idle speculations. She knew what was afoot. “I don’t want people to fuss over me, though!”
“Too bad. That’s what is going to happen and you might as well get over it. The fun part is you get to fuss over the next expectant momma who comes along. A new baby is something to celebrate. And becoming a momma for the first or fifteenth time is something to celebrate, too.
“Women draw together over motherhood. The ones who are mothers already know that it’s the biggest change a woman ever faces. They know that it is a time of joy unmatched and sometimes, sorrows untold, and we relive that moment together. No matter who we are as women, or what kind of man we married or what kind of life we live, we all have this one thing in common. It’s a bond between us that makes us, in a way, all sisters. And frankly, my little Sarah dear, it isn’t your place to change this fine tradition of motherhood. It is your place to embrace it, and pass it on to the next new momma you come across.
“For the rest of your life, when you see a young woman who is expecting, or you see a new baby or a small child, you will recall these days of happy anticipation and you will rejoice for what was. Your children, like mine did, will grow away from you. But you will never forget this joyful time and you will never forget the time when they were babies, or when they were toddlers.
“Someday, even when you are long past your years of babies, you will help a daughter bring her baby into the light. And you will again feel the hopeful worry that we all feel when that time is at hand. As she strains to bring her baby, your middle will strain in sisterhood and you will be a part of the cycle of bringing babies into the world.” Sarah looked into her mother-in-law’s clear brown eyes and heard her words. Momma was telling her more than just the tradition of mothers.
She was saying that she understood. She knew what it was to be waiting for a change of unknown dimensions and joyful anticipation, trusting that all things would work out for the best. She knew.
January 10, 1867--Dover, Pennsylvania
Sarah couldn’t reach the jar of pickles on the top shelf of the pantry. No matter which way she sidled up, stretched out or swung away, her huge belly was an obstacle between her and the pickles. Hixson walked in just as Sarah was twisting sideways, such as sideways was for her, and stretching to the end of her reach and was still a long way from the jar. She sighed in frustration and looked at him with a grin.
Hixson fetched down the jar and touched her face tenderly. “It’s only a little while now and you’ll fit again. The three of you will have to sort things out later.”
“Would you quit with the twins jokes already? I’m not big enough to have two babies in here. Give me the pickles and quit picking on me.” And then she kissed his cheek and put the jar in the cooling cupboard.
“I keep telling you that twins run in my family. Why would you think I’m joking?” “You’re not funny, Hixson Matthew Morris.”
“Ooooo. If you’re going to use my FULL name on me, Sarah Elizabeth Westbay Morris, then we’ll just have settle this when both of those babies are born.” Hixson grinned his boyish grin at her and went back out to the barn.
Sarah couldn’t eat any of the dinner she had prepared. Her appetite was off.
“Off her feed”, Hixson told Poppa the next morning when they were chatting. Later, when Poppa told Momma that Sarah was off her feed, Momma went right over to have a look.
January 11, 1867--Dover, Pennsylvania
Sarah was sitting at her kitchen table with her back arched and her feet planted squarely on the floor in front of her. Momma walked in and looked into her face, questioning.
“I may have overdone a bit, yesterday.” Sarah reported.
Momma looked again, and put her hand on Sarah’s stomach, trying to tell if something was going on. Sarah’s stomach was tense but not hard.
“Lay down on the bed for a moment, won’t you, daughter? I’d like to have a good look at that bump that is my grandbaby.”
Sarah lay down and lifted her blouse up so Momma could feel the baby and see what she thought. Momma pushed gently and felt carefully and smoothed her knowing hands all around Sarah’s distended belly.
“Daughter, have you been having pains?”
“Some, but not regular.”
“But more often than you’ve let Hixson know, haven’t you?”
“Well, yes. It’s too early, though, so I don’t think it’s time yet. Do you?”
“It’s a little early, that’s true. But not so early that it’s impossible. Best you take it easy now for a while. You lay down and rest and I’ll finish your morning chores. It would be better if you didn’t have that grandbaby just yet. A week more could make all the difference.”
Hixson came in to see his Momma kneading the day’s bread, and his wife in the bed with her eyes closed and a flush to her face, one hand on either side of her belly. He hadn’t realized before that how very big her belly had become. He sat down at the edge of the bed and laid a calloused hand on her small hand.
“Are you alright, Sarah? It isn’t time,
yet, is it?”
“I’m fine, dear. I think maybe I just overdid a bit. Momma is helping this morning so that I can catch my breath, is all.”
Hixson caught his Momma’s look and understood that even if it was a little early, he might soon be a father. Sarah got up to move around and try to ease her discomfort. She paced patiently and sat down from time to time. She did not want face the idea yet that she were really in labor.
January 12, 1867--Dover, Pennsylvania
Whether or not she wanted to face it, there could be no doubt in Sarah’s mind when morning came. She was in labor. It was still early labor, and the contractions had not yet organized into something that could be timed, but her time was at hand.
Sarah hadn’t slept all night, the irregular contractions preventing any kind of slumber. She was pacing silently in her nightgown and slippers when the sun rose. By the next sunrise, she thought, she would be a new momma.
Hixson woke to see Sarah walking patiently back and forth across the kitchen floor. Her long blonde hair was loose and flowing around her shoulders and her small hands rested on either side of her straining belly.
“Did you get any sleep at all, Sarah?” He asked.
“No, not really. But I’m fine, dear.”
“Why don’t you sit down a while, and I’ll make you some coffee?”
“No coffee, thanks. Maybe a little weak tea?”
Hixson heated water in the kettle while the coffee brewed, and