I was born in my parent's house in what became the living room. At the time I was born, it was a bedroom. Dad must have walked to the neighbor's house to call the doctor to get the midwife and come quickly. In the 1940's and at a home birth there was no opportunity for the niceties we enjoy now like pain medication, ether, or epidurals. This was true natural childbirth. Mom was a tiny woman at that time weighing only about one hundred pounds. I came into the world weighing a whopping 8+ pounds. My older sister was born at home too but she was born in the room that would become the bathroom. She didn't appreciate us mentioning that point which made it all the more enjoyable for us. I was the last one to be born at home. My siblings were born in the hospital. My brother was born a week before my second birthday which wouldn't have been too bad if they didn't keep the mothers and babies for ten days thus leaving me motherless on my birthday. I have a picture of me sitting on the porch with my cake and doll looking totally abandoned.
We didn't live in the city or the country. We lived somewhere in between the urban and rural. Our hometown was a very small village with cornfields just one house south of ours. Strangely enough, it is still that way. The village grew but only to the north and west. On the east side, expansion was blocked by the interstate highway and to the south, the water table was too high to support houses. The land behind our home was swamp land too but they built houses anyway and wondered why they flooded. To the west of the swampland was the ballpark where they had ballgames, reunions and yearly fireworks. We could sit in our backyard and watch them while we swatted mosquitos and lit our own(it was legal then).
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