The Mid Wife

Those of us who live in Boston know it is a nightmare driving in the city. It is especially difficult if you are in a hurry or under duress. I found myself in that very position back in the 1950’s when I was in my early 20’s. I was enjoying sunbathing in my backyard in Southie when I got an unexpected visit from my next- door neighbor. She was frantic because her water had broken and was having difficulty reaching her relatives who were supposed to assist getting her to the hospital. Today she would call 911 and the paramedics would have been at her door within minutes. That was not the case back then.

Of course I would help. I rushed inside my house, got dressed and grabbed my keys. I helped her in my car and asked where we were going hoping it would be nearby. Over to the “Fens” on Longwood Ave was her reply. For those who are unfamiliar that is one of the most congested parts of Boston because it is the location of
several of the finest hospitals in the city.

On we went with me trying to comfort her with the calmest voice I could muster. I swear I stopped at every red light the city ever erected to control traffic. As expected, it was as bad as it gets in Boston with every truck double parked for deliveries and every tourist trying to find that historic monument mentioned in their guide. I regretted that with all of my years of schooling I never took a class in mid- wifery. My passenger was way calmer than me, but she must have seen that that I was squeezing the life out of the steering wheel.

We did reach the hospital in time and mother and child were perfectly fine. The nurses told me I needn’t have worried since this was her first. That information would have helped at the beginning of our journey rather than end. No, they didn’t name the baby after me. I didn’t mind. I was just glad I could help.