January has been a busy month. After traveling to Philadelphia via Cleveland, Emma is visiting her brother and his family in Washington, D.C., and planning to head back to Philadelphia to be there when Ruth has her baby. At the end of this post is a memoir letter Ruth wrote about her recollections of this time in her life.
Sat 28. Washington DC. A phone call from Philadelphia got me out of bed this morning. Ruth’s baby is arriving today. She was to go to the hospital at 9 A.M. as her pains were five minutes apart. I made the 8 o’clock train. Charlie, Charles, Rachel took me down. Arrived in Phil. at 10:18. Took a taxi to the hospital after getting no answer from them at home. Was there about as soon as Robert & Mrs. Dixon were allowed to see her. She had been shaved & gotten ready. Doctor thought it might be from 6 till midnight so Robert went to Wilmington—earned $6.00. I staid by till seven. Worked on the quilt & recorded her pains from 1:30 till 7 with the exception of a short time when I went out for dinner. Had had nothing since morning. I spent a bad hour from 7 to 8 while they had her in the delivery room. Dr. said he took it with instruments to avoid four hours of suffering. She had “Twilight Sleep,” then was entirely under when they took it. The baby weighed 6 lbs 14½ oz. Was perfectly formed. After Ruth was brought to her room & we saw she was sleepy & groggy & the baby washed & dressed Robert & I came home. Stopped for a rose according to Dad’s wishes. Robert got a primrose. We sent a night letter to Dad & to Robert’s parents. I phoned Katharine & Rachel. Was exhausted when I got into bed. The little neighbor woman came over to see how she was and said she said a prayer in the church for her. McCleary’s stopped. Robert phoned Mrs. Moore. Had phoned Mrs. Dixon who had gone with them in the morning. My trip to Washington was such a pleasure. And I am glad it is over since Chris & Lou are coming next week.
Roberta Ruth Grooters—named after both her parents—arrived at 7:40 P.M. on January 28, 1939. (Hi, Mom!!) Here’s the telegram they sent to Tell to announce the birth.
I also learned that twilight sleep was a procedure, quite common in 1939 but no longer in practice today, that used a combination of scopolamine and morphine to cause a drowsy state and partially relieve childbirth pain while creating amnesia so the woman giving birth would not remember the pain. This was often combined with sensory deprivation (a dark, quiet room, and sometimes blindfolding). Unfortunately, the effects of these drugs also often prolonged labor and made it necessary to use forceps to deliver the baby, as well as depressing the baby’s central nervous system, making them drowsy and lethargic and sometimes interrupting the mother-infant bonding process and the baby’s ability to breastfeed. There’s a whole interesting history of how this procedure came into vogue due to the advocacy of women in 1914-1915, essentially ending the dominance of midwifery and home birth, and how the cultural and medical tides have shifted back again.
Sun 29. I decided to stay home this morning and do up the work, get lunch ready, cook a ham Ruth had bought etc. I am so tired. Robert took the primrose he bought, Dad’s rose & would stop a bit on his way to church. We will go in after lunch and I will stay till after church tonight. Mrs. Dixon phoned that they were decorating the church today in honor of Mr. D’s birthday and she wanted to send the flowers to Ruth in the morning. I have the oysters “shucked” and we will have them for lunch. Well, we got through dinner in a hurry and went to the hospital. Took a lunch & ate it in Ruth’s room but think it bothered her some. Robert had to go to the 4 P.M. service and also to the evening service. Ruth’s baby is sweet—and sleepy. She is trying to teach it to nurse. We got home and went to bed. It was a long trying day. I wrote a few letters.
It sounds like little Roberta Ruth was suffering some of the aftereffects of her mother’s twilight sleep. And here’s a primrose from Robert.
Mon 30. Wilmington, Del. Robert & I slept late. He was so tired. Had pancakes for breakfast. I did up the dishes and Robert worked on his car getting it ready for inspection. He also had to empty the ashes. We did not stop for any lunch at noon but went to the hospital stopping at a number of stores to find Robert a sweater. We bought one for 1.95. Also bought a comb for Ruth. We visited with Ruth for awhile. The assistant pastor of 2nd Pres. church was there to call when we got there. It has rained very hard today. Hard driving! Ruth insisted that I come with Robert tonight so he would not drive too fast. It was rather a hard drive tho’ the rain has quit. I am at the Conservatory & Robert is giving one lesson & the other one is here. Got a letter from Katharine today.
Robert was teachingat the music conservatory in Wilmington, DE. I am sure he would have liked to take a little time off to spend with Ruth and the baby, but they were so tight on money that he probably couldn’t afford to do that.
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Tue 31. I got up early & went with Robert to the hospital. He did not stop. I got there before visiting hours and staid till about three P.M. Went out & bought a rose bud & bud vase for Dad. This is the second one. She loves them. I came home alone. Worked on Ruth’s baby basket. Got it all lined. Did the dishes & ate my supper, then got ready to go to WFMS at the church. Went with Mrs. E.R. Moore. They had a nice meeting. Called on me to talk. Found that Mrs. Marsden is a sister of Mrs. Woolover who is the National Con. Sec. of WFMS. Robert came after me. We had a nice time. Several said my talk was inspirational. I guess I will stay home till evening tomorrow. Ruth got a lovely potted plant from the Curtis faculty. I was introduced as Mrs. Grooter’s mother. Robert brought a baby scales that had been lent him to use. How kind every one is to me! Ruth got a letter from Katharine today.
In Ruth’s memoir letter below, she remembers the roses as having been sent by Robert, but Emma’s journal suggests that they were a gift from Tell. Either way, what a sweet gesture it was!
I’m continually delighted by how Emma connected with the local group of the Woman’s Foreign Missionary Society everywhere she went, and ended up giving talks and making new connections.
Current guidance is to weigh babies periodically (weekly, stretching out to every few months). According to this article, the 1892 book Practical Midwifery recommended daily weighings, with the advice being included in a popular Infant Care booklet published in 1914 and still in print decades later. At this same time, companies began to sell baby scales, and published books for recording developmental milestones. Here’s Roberta Ruth’s book, given by her aunt Katharine. I’ll share some entries from this book in future posts.
Memoir Letter
In the 1980s, Ruth and Katharine took a class on writing memoirs in the form of letters. Here is one I found in the files, written by Ruth to Bobbie (aka Roberta Ruth) about her birth and early years.
1987—January 29
Dear daughter Bobbie:
Your birthday yesterday started me thinking about the wonderful day in 1939 when you were born.
All the way around you were a surprise! In the summer, in Lake City, Iowa where we were spending time with the folks on their little farm, and your Dad was digging post holes for the electric company, we had gone to a doctor in Fort Dodge who pronounced me pregnant. Estella was working in the hospital there and had arranged this for us. The doctor gave us the names of two OBs in Philadelphia, and so we contacted the younger of these two men—Dr. Miller. He was a crusty fellow, gruff and sometimes crude—but I have often been thankful to him for helping me get over some of the timidity and prudishness I had.
Since Dad was in school at Curtis, and we had very limited income, you can imagine how we worried about how we were going to pay for you! We had become acquainted with the Clelands by this time, and Wallace arranged for Dad to meet with a man at the hospital who could work out a payment plan. Dr. Miller’s fee was $75.00, which included all of the pre-natal visits and some of the visits afterward, too. I had wonderful care both from him and at the hospital.
Granma Boylan came on the train from Iowa to be with me, and she got there several days early. But the Dr. said at the last examination that it would be a couple of weeks before I would deliver, and so Mother decided to go to Washington D.C. to visit her brother and family. Well, she had not been there very long when Dad had to call her to come back. I went to the hospital in the early morning of the 28th. Dr. Miller looked the situation over, and decided that Dad should go on to Wilmington to do his teaching at the Delaware School of Music. And so began my long day of waiting. By the time Dad got back, having stopped at the restaurant—the Black Duck ???, you were already here.
How little we realized what joy this surprise would bring us. In the fall, we had gone to the mill end store in Eddystone, and bought fabric to cover and line a wooden box. Of course I had made little nightgown—and had crocheted around flannel to make blankets—and at least once (probably more) every day I opened the box, folded and caressed the little things, and laid them carefully back in the box. An older lady that we met gave us a wicker baby carriage that had been sitting out in the barn. It was dirty and mice had been nesting in it, but your Dad and I cleaned it up, and varnished it—made a corduroy lining for it—with padding—and it was beautiful. We also refurbished a wicker bassinet, and I made a gossamer pink skirt for it.
Although much textile production has now gone overseas, a number of mills produced fabric for clothing and upholstery in this area, with mill end stores that sold fabric at discounted prices to consumers. The Eddystone Manufacturing Company operated a cotton prints factory near Chester, PA and had its own store. With all the seamstresses we have in our family, I remember going to a number of mill end stores and having fun picking out fabrics for Easter dresses and more.
In those days, we stayed in the hospital for two weeks—can you imagine? I think I was not allowed out of bed for the first week. But I look back on the time with real joyful memories. Such pampering! Your Dad came to see me every day, and so did Mother. He arranged for a florist near the hospital to deliver roses—one EVERY DAY—for two weeks. What extravagance! But how wonderful to celebrate this love-child. And then the Dr. made me stay upstairs for a week, and the second week I could come downstairs once each day.
Those were happy, happy days—playing with my dolly. I remember taking you out in the carriage on the nice spring days. We were so proud of this little doll. House work was not so easy then—we had no washing machine—and of course we couldn’t afford a diaper service—so I washed everything by hand. I remember one bright sunny day hanging the yellowest diapers on the line—a pulley out over the alley from our kitchen door—being so very ashamed of it. But when I wheeled them in, they were snowy white. The healing, cleansing power of the sun was impressed on me for life.
That winter we had a coal furnace in the little rented row house in Upper Darby. We bought coal by the five and ten pounds at the corner grocery. But your ingenious Dad used to wad up newspaper into little balls, soak them in water, and dry them on top of the furnace. I don’t remember ever being cold.
Sometime that spring your Dad started directing the choir in the Media Presbyterian Church—and on Easter Sunday we brought you there for all to admire. Then in August we moved to Media to the house on Third Street. Almost immediately we had to take you to Dr. Cleland for all the breaking out on your legs. He diagnosed them as flea bites, and after asking the neighbors, we found that the former occupants had indeed had a dog. It was there that you followed a big old collie between two houses—while we were with you—and perhaps you grabbed his tail. At any rate he turned and bit you in the mouth. We rushed you to a Doctor in Media, who found little harm done to you—but he gave ME a pill for my nerves!
In the fall my brother Gerald’s daughter Betty came to live with us—to help with you and the housework. She was in high school and attended there in Media. We were teaching in Wilmington still, and Dad was still studying at Curtis, singing wherever he could.
This is the end of the memoir letter. Some of the events described here will show up in future entries!
I hope you’ve enjoyed this installment of Emma’s journals. See you next week for February 1939.
