A Father's First Born
Title
A Father's First Born
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"There are some things a father never forgets, and the birth of his first child is one of them."
Date
2007-05
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Coverage
1955
Identifier
1955_A_Father's_First_Born
Text
A Father’s First Born
There are some things a father never forgets, and the birth of his first child is one of them. Even as memory is fading, the moment when that child enters the world stays with you. True, not as indelibly (or as painfully) as it was for the mother, but empathetically, combined with feelings of excitement and helplessness.
It is strange that the events surrounding the birth of my first child are actually clearer than all the others. Is it because it was the first? Is it because we were in awe of this first time miracle? Is it because there were fewer distractions then?
We were in Augusta, Georgia, stationed at Camp Gordon, and living in a cute little apartment complex. Most of our neighbors were also married GI families. I was a Private First Class assigned to The South Eastern Signal School as a statistical clerk. Sylvia was working as a Clerk-Typist for the Military Police.
I had been inducted into the Army in June 1954, had completed basic training at Fort Dix, New Jersey, and was eventually sent to Camp Rucker, Alabama, as an "I and E NCO" (Information and Education Non-Commissioned Officer.) The army really didn’t know what to do with a 27 year old union organizer with four years of graduate school. It looked as if I would be at Rucker for a while, so Sylvia closed up our apartment in the Bronx and I found an apartment in the town of Enterprise. Camp Rucker was situated between the towns of Enterprise and Ozark, and the big city was Dothan. I learned how to drive, bought a car and became a GI commuter. Just as we were settling in, I was reassigned to Camp Gordon, Georgia.
Sylvia and I packed our belongings, loaded up the car, and drove very carefully to Augusta. (I did not have a driver’s license.) We found a place to live. I reported for duty, and we began our new life in Augusta. It turned out to be quite pleasant. My work consisted of scoring the exams given the various classes at the Signal School, and getting an average for each class. Not terribly challenging. And I liked the people I worked with. Sylvia got a job on post with a Colonel in the Military Police which she enjoyed as well. After a few months, we decided to make a baby, and we were successful.
We returned home for Pesach 1955 with the news that Sylvia was pregnant. Due date—October 1. Our friends and relatives were delighted, and Sylvia’s parents were overjoyed. The months flew by. Summer weekends were spent at the Augusta Jewish Community Center pool, and Sylvia received excellent pre-natal care at the army hospital. A remarkable coincidence: Before my induction, I was sent to Governor's Island for a further physical examination, requiring me to stay overnight. I met a Physician there who was very upset about being drafted just as he was about to start his OB-GYN practice. And who turns up at Camp Gordon a year later as the OB-GYN doctor? The same guy. And he also spent his summer weekends at the JCC, where he was labeled "The Delivery Boy." The small Augusta Jewish community was very solicitous of the Jewish GIs at Camp Gordon.
By mid-September, Sylvia stopped working , and we started preparing for the new addition, buying a crib, a changing table, and all the accessories needed for a baby. And a 35mm Argus C-3 camera at the PX. There were no classes for fathers, and since I would not be permitted near the labor or delivery room, I had no role to play in this area. At that time, there was no way of knowing if it was going to be a boy or a girl. Sylvia was aware that I wanted to name our children after my parents. If it was a boy—Lewis, and if it was a girl—some variation of Celia. A few of our neighbors suggested we memorialize where we were: For a girl—Georgia or Augusta, and for a boy—Gordon. We agreed on Carol for a girl.
The morning of October 12, Sylvia woke me with the news that she was having labor pains. Then her water broke. This must be it! We grabbed her bag which had been packed for days. I helped her to the car and we drove to the army hospital. We rushed inside; a nurse put her in a wheel chair and she was brought to an examining room. The doctor who examined her told her that she is far from ready to give birth. She had not dilated. Go home and come back in the afternoon. Instead, Sylvia went to the army library and I went to work. By mid-afternoon, things were beginning to happen. Sylvia was in active labor. She called me and I took her from the library back to the army hospital where she was admitted, "prepped" and brought to the labor room. Our friend, "the delivery boy," was on duty, but was scheduled to go off at 5 pm. He told us that he would stay on and do the delivery. I was not able to be with Sylvia and was sent to a small waiting room. The doctor joined me, stretched out on a couch, took off his shoes and went to sleep. I was beside myself.
A half hour later, a nurse came in, woke up the doctor, telling him it was time. He put on his shoes and left. I was going crazy. What is happening? How is Sylvia? Suppose there are complications? Why am I stuck here, not knowing anything? The minutes dragged on, and I felt totally helpless. Then at around 5:30 pm, a nurse came running down the hall with a tiny bundle wrapped in a blanket, and as she removed the blanket, she announced, "It’s a girl, and she has red hair!" Some time later, I was able to see Sylvia. We spoke briefly. I gave her a big kiss and congratulated her. I didn’t get much of a sense of the delivery. But I learned a new word: episiotomy.
Sylvia stayed in the hospital for the next five days, a civilized amount of time, enabling the mother to recuperate. She was not thrown out after two or three days as they do now. And since the delivery was in an army hospital, there was no charge, except about $1.50 a day for food, which came to a total of less than $8. The "delivery boy" came through and presented us with a beautiful baby daughter. We were ecstatic. And we were now parents.
May 2007
There are some things a father never forgets, and the birth of his first child is one of them. Even as memory is fading, the moment when that child enters the world stays with you. True, not as indelibly (or as painfully) as it was for the mother, but empathetically, combined with feelings of excitement and helplessness.
It is strange that the events surrounding the birth of my first child are actually clearer than all the others. Is it because it was the first? Is it because we were in awe of this first time miracle? Is it because there were fewer distractions then?
We were in Augusta, Georgia, stationed at Camp Gordon, and living in a cute little apartment complex. Most of our neighbors were also married GI families. I was a Private First Class assigned to The South Eastern Signal School as a statistical clerk. Sylvia was working as a Clerk-Typist for the Military Police.
I had been inducted into the Army in June 1954, had completed basic training at Fort Dix, New Jersey, and was eventually sent to Camp Rucker, Alabama, as an "I and E NCO" (Information and Education Non-Commissioned Officer.) The army really didn’t know what to do with a 27 year old union organizer with four years of graduate school. It looked as if I would be at Rucker for a while, so Sylvia closed up our apartment in the Bronx and I found an apartment in the town of Enterprise. Camp Rucker was situated between the towns of Enterprise and Ozark, and the big city was Dothan. I learned how to drive, bought a car and became a GI commuter. Just as we were settling in, I was reassigned to Camp Gordon, Georgia.
Sylvia and I packed our belongings, loaded up the car, and drove very carefully to Augusta. (I did not have a driver’s license.) We found a place to live. I reported for duty, and we began our new life in Augusta. It turned out to be quite pleasant. My work consisted of scoring the exams given the various classes at the Signal School, and getting an average for each class. Not terribly challenging. And I liked the people I worked with. Sylvia got a job on post with a Colonel in the Military Police which she enjoyed as well. After a few months, we decided to make a baby, and we were successful.
We returned home for Pesach 1955 with the news that Sylvia was pregnant. Due date—October 1. Our friends and relatives were delighted, and Sylvia’s parents were overjoyed. The months flew by. Summer weekends were spent at the Augusta Jewish Community Center pool, and Sylvia received excellent pre-natal care at the army hospital. A remarkable coincidence: Before my induction, I was sent to Governor's Island for a further physical examination, requiring me to stay overnight. I met a Physician there who was very upset about being drafted just as he was about to start his OB-GYN practice. And who turns up at Camp Gordon a year later as the OB-GYN doctor? The same guy. And he also spent his summer weekends at the JCC, where he was labeled "The Delivery Boy." The small Augusta Jewish community was very solicitous of the Jewish GIs at Camp Gordon.
By mid-September, Sylvia stopped working , and we started preparing for the new addition, buying a crib, a changing table, and all the accessories needed for a baby. And a 35mm Argus C-3 camera at the PX. There were no classes for fathers, and since I would not be permitted near the labor or delivery room, I had no role to play in this area. At that time, there was no way of knowing if it was going to be a boy or a girl. Sylvia was aware that I wanted to name our children after my parents. If it was a boy—Lewis, and if it was a girl—some variation of Celia. A few of our neighbors suggested we memorialize where we were: For a girl—Georgia or Augusta, and for a boy—Gordon. We agreed on Carol for a girl.
The morning of October 12, Sylvia woke me with the news that she was having labor pains. Then her water broke. This must be it! We grabbed her bag which had been packed for days. I helped her to the car and we drove to the army hospital. We rushed inside; a nurse put her in a wheel chair and she was brought to an examining room. The doctor who examined her told her that she is far from ready to give birth. She had not dilated. Go home and come back in the afternoon. Instead, Sylvia went to the army library and I went to work. By mid-afternoon, things were beginning to happen. Sylvia was in active labor. She called me and I took her from the library back to the army hospital where she was admitted, "prepped" and brought to the labor room. Our friend, "the delivery boy," was on duty, but was scheduled to go off at 5 pm. He told us that he would stay on and do the delivery. I was not able to be with Sylvia and was sent to a small waiting room. The doctor joined me, stretched out on a couch, took off his shoes and went to sleep. I was beside myself.
A half hour later, a nurse came in, woke up the doctor, telling him it was time. He put on his shoes and left. I was going crazy. What is happening? How is Sylvia? Suppose there are complications? Why am I stuck here, not knowing anything? The minutes dragged on, and I felt totally helpless. Then at around 5:30 pm, a nurse came running down the hall with a tiny bundle wrapped in a blanket, and as she removed the blanket, she announced, "It’s a girl, and she has red hair!" Some time later, I was able to see Sylvia. We spoke briefly. I gave her a big kiss and congratulated her. I didn’t get much of a sense of the delivery. But I learned a new word: episiotomy.
Sylvia stayed in the hospital for the next five days, a civilized amount of time, enabling the mother to recuperate. She was not thrown out after two or three days as they do now. And since the delivery was in an army hospital, there was no charge, except about $1.50 a day for food, which came to a total of less than $8. The "delivery boy" came through and presented us with a beautiful baby daughter. We were ecstatic. And we were now parents.
May 2007
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “A Father's First Born,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 28, 2024, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/46.