Molly
03-13-2007, 01:25 PM
... when I was born, I was named Patricia June. For true. But it was an accident of war.
During WWII, dad was stationed in Colorado, a fair piece from our home territory, and mom went out there to be with him, and naturally, had no friends or family nearby.
Well, the US Army understood the importance of the husband being present at the beginning of a pregnancy, but considered his presence rather superfulous at the other end, and - it being wartime and all, refused to give him any time off when mon went into labor. So she was all alone in one of those huge army hospital maternity wards when I was delivered.
Now it was the custom in those days to put the ladies under total anesthesia for deliveries, and mom got the full treatment. So when she woke up, she called a nurse and asked about her baby (me). The nurse glanced at the name on the bed, went down to the nursery, and came back to tell mom she'd had a little girl.
They'd decided on two names: My name, and Patricia June if it'd been a girl. Mom called dad at the base, dad cabled the grandparents, and his outfit handed him an envelope they'd taken up 'For little miss (family name). I still have the envelope!
But while dad was busy with those details, they brought the new babies from the nursery to be nursed, and I was rejected by my mother on first sight! Considrable excitement ensued, and they discovered that the overworked nurse had misread the name, and a family with a very similar name had had the little girl. They checked the footprints, so there wasn't any doubt about it.
So, mom called dad again, and dad cabled the grandparents again. They cabled back "Am confused. Boy, girl, or both? You should be able to tell." And I still have THAT telegram too! (I was her first, and mom apparently felt that history would never forgive her if she didn't document every time I wet my diaper. You should see my baby book!)
The REALLY funny part of the story didn't evolve until years later. Mom still liked the name Patricia June, and bestowed it on my baby sister. When Pat was old enough, she really played it for all it was worth; if she wanted a new (dress, shoes, whatever), you could chant right along with her: "Oh, boo hoo, I never get anything new. Even my name was used. (my name) got it first!) We took to calling her "Second Hand Rose" after the song. She was somewhat less than appreciative.!(BG)
During WWII, dad was stationed in Colorado, a fair piece from our home territory, and mom went out there to be with him, and naturally, had no friends or family nearby.
Well, the US Army understood the importance of the husband being present at the beginning of a pregnancy, but considered his presence rather superfulous at the other end, and - it being wartime and all, refused to give him any time off when mon went into labor. So she was all alone in one of those huge army hospital maternity wards when I was delivered.
Now it was the custom in those days to put the ladies under total anesthesia for deliveries, and mom got the full treatment. So when she woke up, she called a nurse and asked about her baby (me). The nurse glanced at the name on the bed, went down to the nursery, and came back to tell mom she'd had a little girl.
They'd decided on two names: My name, and Patricia June if it'd been a girl. Mom called dad at the base, dad cabled the grandparents, and his outfit handed him an envelope they'd taken up 'For little miss (family name). I still have the envelope!
But while dad was busy with those details, they brought the new babies from the nursery to be nursed, and I was rejected by my mother on first sight! Considrable excitement ensued, and they discovered that the overworked nurse had misread the name, and a family with a very similar name had had the little girl. They checked the footprints, so there wasn't any doubt about it.
So, mom called dad again, and dad cabled the grandparents again. They cabled back "Am confused. Boy, girl, or both? You should be able to tell." And I still have THAT telegram too! (I was her first, and mom apparently felt that history would never forgive her if she didn't document every time I wet my diaper. You should see my baby book!)
The REALLY funny part of the story didn't evolve until years later. Mom still liked the name Patricia June, and bestowed it on my baby sister. When Pat was old enough, she really played it for all it was worth; if she wanted a new (dress, shoes, whatever), you could chant right along with her: "Oh, boo hoo, I never get anything new. Even my name was used. (my name) got it first!) We took to calling her "Second Hand Rose" after the song. She was somewhat less than appreciative.!(BG)