The Monday before Thanksgiving, 1965, I went to my OB/GYN for my usual pre-natal visit. My doctor, Dr. Kennedy, a handsome hunk who resembled President Kennedy, examined me and
said the chances were very good that I would be interrupting his Thanksgiving dinner by going into labor on that day.
I was so excited to actually know that the baby (gender unknown) would be coming in just four days! I packed my bag as soon as I returned from the visit.
When my husband, Don, came home from work we decided that maybe we could hasten the blessed event by going for a car ride and deliberately drive on rough and bumpy streets. We even made sure we put the hospital bag in the car…just in case. Looking back I cannot believe we were so naïve! We have become a much more sophisticated society in the past forty years haven’t we?
Needless to say, the baby, known to us only as “Little Chooch” did not arrive that night, nor the next night, nor the next night…
Thanksgiving morning arrived. Of course, expecting to go to the hospital instead of eating turkey and all the trimmings, we had nothing in the house to eat except a can of chicken soup! By then, we were beginning to think we would never see that baby (a feeling many young parents get after more than nine months of waiting!) and we were upset that we were not even able to enjoy the holiday.
Our family to the rescue. When they found out that we were home without a baby or a turkey, Don was told to go to Aunt Martha’s (the premier Thanksgiving Day cook) house and pick up some food. Turkey never tasted so delicious!
Well, as it turned out, Little Chooch never arrived until the following Wednesday, Dec. 2, 1965, nearly a week later. Since he came out with a monstrous appetite, we concluded he didn’t want to be born on Thanksgiving because he would miss out on a great feast! How could formula compare to turkey, stuffing, cream corn, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie?
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Love, Paul’s Mom