Memories

My Dad finished a memoir recently, which was a pretty cool thing to hand down. I learned some things about his mother that I did not know. I knew that she had a son who died at a young age, only a few months old. He was sick, and she took him to the doctor. She was told he just had a cold, and she was relieved. However, he never woke up that night. What I did not know is that my Grandmother also had a stillbirth girl about a year after that. I felt so sad reading that in my Dad's memoir. I'm sure she did not have the support she needed back then for these terrible tragedies. Eventually, my Grandmother gave birth at age 36 to my uncle. He was 12 years younger than my father, and the prized son after these sad losses.

My other Grandmother was finished having children at age 31. I wonder if she just did not want to have any more children, after basically raising all her seven siblings after her mother died, or she was just not able to have any more children. I learned some interesting things about "Grandma Cookie", as we called her, from my Dad's memoir also. She was engaged to my Grandfather after only knowing him a short time. They also did not speak the same language. He spoke English and she spoke Italian. My Grandfather proposed to my Grandma through both parents. After my Grandma accepted, they were married three weeks later. My Grandfather had to go back to the US soon after, as it was the Depression and he needed to get back to retain his job. My Grandmother ended up taking the boat to America a few months later by herself and three months pregnant. How amazingly gutsy was that of my Grandmother?! I can't even imagine how rough that journey was being pregnant with no airplanes and not speaking English in a new country.

My Dad said of me in his memoir, "Phoebe was born breech, which means that she came out butt first. She has always done things her own way." I don't know if this is a compliment or not. Unfortunately, it does seem to be true in the trying-to-get-knocked-up category. None of my uber-fertile sisters ever had any girly problems. One of my sisters did get pregnant at 40, which was encouraging to me. That was when I was 40-41 and I still had unwavering confidence in my eggs. I hope there is still a happy ending for my memoir when I write it.