Spotting my parents in the thousands of faces in the auditorium, I discerned relief rather than pride in their eyes. I winced slightly but tossed my head around in defiance, listening to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” I caught a glance of Mrs. Hill, my English teacher. I clutched the coveted paper in my hand a little tighter and suppressed the urge to make a nasty gesture at the old bat. For the last couple of months she had berated me daily by scolding, “You’ll never graduate now that you went and married that boy!”
I guess I showed her, I thought as my mind jumped to my secret. At that moment, I was glad for the fullness of the graduation gown even though I had not yet begun to show. If any of my teachers or the principal knew about the life that was growing inside me they would have denied me the diploma I had worked so hard to earn. Two weeks before graduation, my friend Barbara had been called out of class and expelled because the school nurse discovered her pregnancy. Some school districts were changing the rules and letting “expectant” girls graduate, but not mine. It’s 1960 for crying out loud! Crawl out of the dark ages! I wanted to scream at all of them. Instead, I forced the appropriate smile and clutched my deserved prize.
I longed for Michael to be there and celebrate with me. The days since he left echoed like years. In late April we had lingered on the platform at Union Station in downtown Kansas City and shared our goodbyes. His hand rested on my belly, and he stooped to press his lips against my shirt before he turned and scaled the steps of the passenger car. I waved as the train groaned through the yards and around the bend until I could no longer distinguish Michael’s face in the sea of soldiers filling the windows of the train. I was alone though surrounded by a massive throng of bodies bidding goodbye to their own soldiers.
Thousands of miles away in Syracuse, New York, Michael was attending language school. Though he was buried in classes, we corresponded almost daily. I laughed at his notes smattered with the Russian and Polish words he was learning. Really, the language didn’t matter, I ached for him so deeply that the stationery he caressed united us more than the ink marks on the page. After three months, the letters started arriving from APO addresses with tales of curious places with names like Darmstadt, Sembach and Ramstein. He migrated to a fresh German duty station every few weeks. Always, the first envelope of every month included money to be added to my own nest egg. When Michael first left, the only money I had to glean was the little meager amounts I made babysitting. I couldn’t get a fruitful job until I had that high school diploma in my hand.
The morning after graduation, I forced myself from bed and hurried to the trolley stop. I could finally go to the doctor without the terror of discovery hanging over me. I really needed to know that my baby was all right. This precious little one was making me incredibly ill. I could barely keep down water and for the last couple of weeks of school I avoided eating or drinking anything because my heaving would have drawn too much attention.
“Missy, you should never have waited to see me!” chided the white-haired doctor. I was so severely dehydrated that I could have lost the baby. He administered a shot of vitamin B6 and for the first time in weeks I was hungry. Leaving his office, I caught the trolley to the card factory. I knew they were hiring. I also knew that once again, I would have to conceal my little one. The company had a policy of terminating any girl who was pregnant. I lied on the application and wore big shirts to work. My doctor visits remained a secret.
As our letters crossed back and forth across the seas, Michael and I exchanged our dreams of the day I would be able to join him. He had braved an exhausting eighteen hours crossing the Atlantic on a Constellation propeller plane. Asking around he discovered that TWA was offering jet service into the Frankfurt airport. Though it would cost more, he decided it would be faster and better for out little one to travel by jet. So I scrimped and saved all the more. I worked every minute the factory would allow. All summer long, I rode the trolley to the doctor’s office, tolerated my daily morning sickness shot, and hopped the next trolley to my job. Every extra nickel went into my savings.
Then it happened. One day, in spite of the medicine, I just couldn’t keep my lunch down. I was alone in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, supporting my growing belly with one hand while I splashed cold water in my face with the other. The door opened and my supervisor stopped and stared, taken by my obvious condition. Without a word, she turned and left. That evening a bright pink slip encased my time card when I clocked out.
It was already early September and my planned trip was in mid October. I had enough money put away for the ticket, but not enough for baby things when I got there. I trudged to the trolley stop and made my way home. Brooding, I silently ascended the stairs to my room. My mother knew. She followed me and posed pensively on the bed beside me. For a long time we just sat side by side in heavy silence. Finally, she put her arm around my shoulder and said, “Sue, I’ve been putting back a little bit each week. I want to buy things for the baby now, but I know you can’t take them with you. Will you take the money I’ve saved with you and buy my grandbaby some things in Germany?”
In a flurry of activity the ensuing weeks blurred. Soon I found myself high above Europe in a DC-8. The stewardess was making her way down the aisle instructing each passenger to prepare for landing. Leaning over she asked me to secure my seatbelt. I fidgeted for a minute making sure it fit snugly under my bulging tummy.
I rubbed the small mound and spoke softly to the little life within me. “Hey, little one. You don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you? Here I am almost eighteen and this is the first time I’ve ever gone much more than a hundred miles from home, let alone taken an airplane anywhere. You’re not even born yet and you’ve flown halfway across the world.”
The wings popped and creaked and I stiffened. The white-haired man sitting next to me must have sensed my fear because he reassured me that those were the normal sounds the plane made as it approached a landing. The engines screamed as we descended upon the runway and I held my breath until I felt the solid ground beneath the wheels. I forced a smile at the man in the next seat and he patted my hand, “You made it just fine, sweetie. You’ve landed.”
I guess I showed her, I thought as my mind jumped to my secret. At that moment, I was glad for the fullness of the graduation gown even though I had not yet begun to show. If any of my teachers or the principal knew about the life that was growing inside me they would have denied me the diploma I had worked so hard to earn. Two weeks before graduation, my friend Barbara had been called out of class and expelled because the school nurse discovered her pregnancy. Some school districts were changing the rules and letting “expectant” girls graduate, but not mine. It’s 1960 for crying out loud! Crawl out of the dark ages! I wanted to scream at all of them. Instead, I forced the appropriate smile and clutched my deserved prize.
I longed for Michael to be there and celebrate with me. The days since he left echoed like years. In late April we had lingered on the platform at Union Station in downtown Kansas City and shared our goodbyes. His hand rested on my belly, and he stooped to press his lips against my shirt before he turned and scaled the steps of the passenger car. I waved as the train groaned through the yards and around the bend until I could no longer distinguish Michael’s face in the sea of soldiers filling the windows of the train. I was alone though surrounded by a massive throng of bodies bidding goodbye to their own soldiers.
Thousands of miles away in Syracuse, New York, Michael was attending language school. Though he was buried in classes, we corresponded almost daily. I laughed at his notes smattered with the Russian and Polish words he was learning. Really, the language didn’t matter, I ached for him so deeply that the stationery he caressed united us more than the ink marks on the page. After three months, the letters started arriving from APO addresses with tales of curious places with names like Darmstadt, Sembach and Ramstein. He migrated to a fresh German duty station every few weeks. Always, the first envelope of every month included money to be added to my own nest egg. When Michael first left, the only money I had to glean was the little meager amounts I made babysitting. I couldn’t get a fruitful job until I had that high school diploma in my hand.
The morning after graduation, I forced myself from bed and hurried to the trolley stop. I could finally go to the doctor without the terror of discovery hanging over me. I really needed to know that my baby was all right. This precious little one was making me incredibly ill. I could barely keep down water and for the last couple of weeks of school I avoided eating or drinking anything because my heaving would have drawn too much attention.
“Missy, you should never have waited to see me!” chided the white-haired doctor. I was so severely dehydrated that I could have lost the baby. He administered a shot of vitamin B6 and for the first time in weeks I was hungry. Leaving his office, I caught the trolley to the card factory. I knew they were hiring. I also knew that once again, I would have to conceal my little one. The company had a policy of terminating any girl who was pregnant. I lied on the application and wore big shirts to work. My doctor visits remained a secret.
As our letters crossed back and forth across the seas, Michael and I exchanged our dreams of the day I would be able to join him. He had braved an exhausting eighteen hours crossing the Atlantic on a Constellation propeller plane. Asking around he discovered that TWA was offering jet service into the Frankfurt airport. Though it would cost more, he decided it would be faster and better for out little one to travel by jet. So I scrimped and saved all the more. I worked every minute the factory would allow. All summer long, I rode the trolley to the doctor’s office, tolerated my daily morning sickness shot, and hopped the next trolley to my job. Every extra nickel went into my savings.
Then it happened. One day, in spite of the medicine, I just couldn’t keep my lunch down. I was alone in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, supporting my growing belly with one hand while I splashed cold water in my face with the other. The door opened and my supervisor stopped and stared, taken by my obvious condition. Without a word, she turned and left. That evening a bright pink slip encased my time card when I clocked out.
It was already early September and my planned trip was in mid October. I had enough money put away for the ticket, but not enough for baby things when I got there. I trudged to the trolley stop and made my way home. Brooding, I silently ascended the stairs to my room. My mother knew. She followed me and posed pensively on the bed beside me. For a long time we just sat side by side in heavy silence. Finally, she put her arm around my shoulder and said, “Sue, I’ve been putting back a little bit each week. I want to buy things for the baby now, but I know you can’t take them with you. Will you take the money I’ve saved with you and buy my grandbaby some things in Germany?”
In a flurry of activity the ensuing weeks blurred. Soon I found myself high above Europe in a DC-8. The stewardess was making her way down the aisle instructing each passenger to prepare for landing. Leaning over she asked me to secure my seatbelt. I fidgeted for a minute making sure it fit snugly under my bulging tummy.
I rubbed the small mound and spoke softly to the little life within me. “Hey, little one. You don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you? Here I am almost eighteen and this is the first time I’ve ever gone much more than a hundred miles from home, let alone taken an airplane anywhere. You’re not even born yet and you’ve flown halfway across the world.”
The wings popped and creaked and I stiffened. The white-haired man sitting next to me must have sensed my fear because he reassured me that those were the normal sounds the plane made as it approached a landing. The engines screamed as we descended upon the runway and I held my breath until I felt the solid ground beneath the wheels. I forced a smile at the man in the next seat and he patted my hand, “You made it just fine, sweetie. You’ve landed.”
Comments