I Have a Little Sister...

In 1956, in my world, the whole English language was divided into two categories; there were nice words and ugly words. The nice words were everything except the following:

First, there were certain exclamatory words, like "Gosh" or "Golly" or "Gee Whiz" or other G words. Those were frowned upon because they were considered "second hand cussing" or a variation of Using God's Name In Vain. In our house, we weren't allowed to say those words. Of course "Damn" (in any form, especially connected to any name of the Lord) was prohibited.

Nor could we say "Shoot" (unless it was in connection with shooting a gun) as it sounded too much like those cuss words describing or referring to certain parts of human or animal anatomy.  Those were right up there with connecting a cuss word to God's name. We knew better than to utter those words, especially in the hearing of Mama or Daddy. You just didn't talk about it.

So... how was one to tell the glad news that a child was going to be born into our family? What was the nice word for ... pregnant? When Mama conceived my little sister, she didn't tell us for quite a while. Even though she was teary and cross for a long time, we didn't have a clue.

During the summer that we lived in Earlimart, we had a visit from old friends from Arkansas who lived in Visalia (up the Valley a ways) and they, too, were expecting a baby. Expecting! Hey, that's a nice word. Mama decided to use it. She told me she was expecting to have a baby in February. Wow! I was delighted. It seemed like it would be like a doll I could play with, only real. Then I began to wonder how it worked. I asked Mama how the baby would get out. She had already told me it was in her stomach, which while a bit inaccurate served the purpose of not having to explain how it got there. Everyone knows how stuff gets in your stomach. You swallow it. Period. She didn't say she swallowed it; she just let me think that.

As time passed, though, and her "stomach" got very large so that she had to sew herself some new and different clothes, I began to wonder about how that baby was going to get out. Even with my summer on Aunt Tot's farm, I had never seen any animal be born. I hadn't even seen how chickens lay eggs, or even thought about it really. Hmm. I pondered it over and over privately. I imagined it must come out of the belly button. Mind you, I was eleven years old.

One day I asked the Big Question. "Mama, how will the baby come out without hurting you?"

She sat down and put her arms around me. "It hurts a lot," she said. "I will have to go to the hospital so the doctor can help the baby get out."

I wasn't satisfied. "Will they cut a hole in your belly button?"

She looked a bit confused, then smiled, "No..." and then haltingly, awkwardly she explained the birth process to me. Sort of.

I felt kind of sick. I hurried to the bathroom, and bent over to view my body, shaking my head in unbelief. I knew Mama would not lie to me. I just couldn't believe what she had told me. It was too amazing.

And it was amazing, when Daddy and Mama brought home my baby sister, Diane Elizabeth Ballentine, born February 27, 1957. She was a big baby, almost ten pounds at birth. Since she was bottle fed, I learned a lot about mothering and taking care of a baby. I gave her feedings. I rocked her to sleep. I bathed her in the kitchen sink.

When we moved to Cecil Avenue, I took care of her all summer while Mama worked at Daddy's mattress shop in McFarland that he had started. I would put her in the stroller and take her down to the dime store where I would buy patterns and fabric with my allowance. (Patterns were only 25 cents.) Eventually I couldn't do that any more because she would climb out of the stroller trying to "buy" her own stuff.  I taught her to talk. She called me Sissy.

Our little brother Richard lost his place in the front seat of the car between Mama and Daddy. All four of us bigger kids had to sit in back, in the bench seat of the Chrysler with no seat belts. We needed a bigger car...

But that's another story...