Saturday, December 29, 2012

Winter Lessons



Marlowe taking care of Athena Christmas 1970
The winter winds blew so coldly and I felt so vulnerable as I left the pediatrician’s office with my 18-month old daughter, Athena. The doctor had said her cough wasn’t anything serious and hadn’t given me anything for it, but I was still worried. She kept coughing and coughing. It was only a few days before Christmas in 1970, and I was living in a small upstairs apartment in Bountiful, Utah while my husband was serving his second tour as a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. My oldest son, Marlowe, had just celebrated his third birthday, and he held onto Athena’s hand as we walked to the car, telling her she would be better soon.

 Ed had left for Vietnam in mid-November and I’d felt very brave and self-confident then. But the cold, snow, and Athena’s cough, had weakened my resolve. But since the doctor had said Athena was “okay” I decided to do some more shopping. I just didn’t want to go home to my empty apartment. It was dark before I got home, and the phone was ringing. I grabbed it, and tried to get the children’s coats off as I talked on the phone. I was surprised that it was my dad. He was very worried and explained that he had been trying to locate me for hours. 

Beth Christmas 1970 Bountiful, Utah
“The doctor’s office called me when they couldn’t reach you,” he said.  “You had put me down as an emergency contact. The radiologist looked at Athena’s x-ray and said she definitely had pneumonia and you needed to get her back to the emergency room at Hill Field as soon as possible. They have medicine and treatment waiting for her.”

I looked at my toddler, whose coat I had just taken off, and who was coughing again. What a lousy mother I had been. I had kept her out all afternoon when she was sick with pneumonia! How grateful I was that my father had been able to get the message from the doctors and notify me. 

Later that same winter I was feeling lonely and isolated. I had no one I could relate to. I missed my two sisters who were closest in age to me. Both were married and living far away. One had one daughter Athena’s age, and the other was expecting a baby the same time I was, in February. How I wished we could do things together; but we were so far away and long distance phone calls were so expensive. Our mother had died not long after I had married so none of us had had someone we could call on for motherly advice.  Dad lived in the same town, but he worked swing shift. My younger brother at home was 16 years old; my youngest sister had just turned 14 years old. My mother-in-law lived several hundred miles away; she had remarried recently and her husband did not care for my husband, so I did not feel I could call on her for help or advice.

Marlowe & Athena 1970
One of the other “Waiting Wives” in Bountiful had three small children about the same age as mine, and I often thought to call her and do things with her. However, I knew she had many siblings who lived in the area, and I kept thinking that I was being a bother to want to do things with her when she was probably doing things with her family. When I went back to the pediatrician to have him check to make sure Athena was completely clear of her pneumonia, I met my friend there in the waiting room in tears. Her youngest son was very sick, and she had no one to take care of the other two while they hospitalized him. I immediately offered to take them home with me, and was surprised that her family had not offered to help her. 

“They are too busy with their lives. They don’t understand how it is to not have a husband to help,” she sobbed. 

I realized all the times I had hesitated to call her because I thought I would bother her when she was busy with her extended family, and she was just as isolated as I was because her husband was in Vietnam. I decided then to reach out to each woman whose husband was in Vietnam—whether they had a lot of extended family or not. We were in a unique situation; no one understood what it was like and how we could help each other like we could. 

Athena & Marlowe playing in the snow 1971
It was late in January of 1971 when I got my last lesson. I awoke to my three-year-old son crying. I went to him and tried to comfort him, but nothing would help. He was doubled over with pain. He was in so much pain that he couldn’t talk. Finally I realized that I needed to take him to the emergency room. It was about 3:00 in the morning, and I was frantic. I couldn’t take both children out in the cold to the emergency room, so what was I to do?  I prayed; I knew Marlowe had to go to the emergency room. Something was desperately wrong with him. 

I decided to call my father. He worked swing shift. He would come over no matter what the hour to babysit Athena while I took Marlowe to the emergency room. I called and he came right over. I’ll never forget what he said when he saw Marlowe. 

“He’s wheezing, Beth. He has asthma.” I was shocked. I had had asthma as a baby, and for a year as a teenager, but then I had mainly coughed continually. I couldn’t remember wheezing, or even what wheezing was. 

“Can’t you hear him wheezing?” Now that I listened of course I could hear the wheezing sound. “That’s why he can’t talk—he can’t breathe.” My father knelt down and carefully touched Marlowe’s doubled up diaphragm. Marlowe jumped and cried. “He’s wheezed and struggled to breathe so much that he’s pulled the muscles in his diaphragm, pour little guy. Get him up to the emergency room.”

All the way up to the emergency room with Marlowe crying and wheezing in his car seat, I kept thinking what I crummy mother I was—I didn’t even know when my own child had asthma and I endangered his life. It took my own father to tell me what to do. At the emergency room, they quickly treated him and told me what to do. 

I had felt alone that winter, and that year—and often very inadequate—as young parents often do. But I wasn’t alone; of course we are never alone. The Lord is always aware of us, and our needs; he uses those around us, then as now—family and friends—to help us meet the challenges of life.

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