Not D-Day, June 6, 1944 ; but rather March 5, 1967.
Marjorie and I, married about 2 1/2 years earlier, were still in Charleston, where I was assigned to Charleston AFB as a C-141 navigator. Our beautiful, little daughter, Christine, was almost one year old, born on March 15, 1966.
Lo and behold; all the old wives and young doctors were incorrect when they told us you can’t get pregnant while nursing your baby. We were expecting our second baby in May, about two months hence.
Frighteningly, Marjorie started feeling really lousy (a scientific , medical term)
right after the new year, 1967. Her condition worsened and she had some scary symptoms (also scientific); so we went to see her Ob/Gyn doctor in February, the day before I was scheduled to go on an overseas mission. (probably to lovely Vietnam).
After examining her, the doctor called me in and told both of us her condition was troublesome and he wanted to hospitalize her. Her baby was literally trying to come about three months early. Not good. At that time, a baby born three months prematurely had a slim chance to survive.
I, rather naively, said something like “Oh my Goodness (probably something coarser) I’m supposed to go on a mission tomorrow.” I’ll never forget his reply, for which I hated him for a while.
He said, “Lieutenant, you can go ahead and go on your mission, but I’m putting your wife in the hospital today.“
Of course, I dropped out of the mission and stayed home to take care of my wife and expected baby. The squadron gave me their total support.
So let’s recap. Marjorie’s body was trying to eject her baby about three month premature. In that timeframe, medically, a baby born three months early had much less than a 50/50 chance of survival. So, in addition to treating her symptoms, the doctors at Roper Hospital ordered her to stay on complete bed rest in hospital with her feet elevated. The hope was to keep the baby in the friendly, safe environment of the womb at least a month. A two-month premature baby has a 50/50 shot at survival. Every additional day in the womb increased the probability of survival.
Well. It sorta worked. Marjorie went into labor in the afternoon of March 5. It was a long,hard labor. Lotsa pain. But I was there with her.
March 5 became March 6 and she was still in slow, painful labor. Hence, the longest day was the better part of two days. Early morning on March 6 they brought Marjorie into the delivery room. Her mom came and sat with me in the waiting room. I recall tearfully saying to her mom, “Mom, I think we’re going to lose this one.” But I continued to hope and pray I was wrong.
Thankfully, I was very wrong. On the morning of March 6, 1967, a 2-month premature baby boy was born and immediately placed in an incubator, where he stayed about a month before coming home. BUT, by the grace of God and the outstanding medical professionalism of Roper Hospital, HE survived. He weighed in at 3 lbs 13 ounces. I’ve seen larger roasting chickens. Another 2-month premature baby, born that same day did not survive.
BTW. Our premature 3lb 13 ounce baby boy was James Joseph Scooler, the manager of this blog and a superb aeronautical engineer with Gulfstream
He and his wonderful wife , Kiersten have raised three gorgeous daughters, Sydney, Erin and Caroline. Marjorie and I are so very proud of all of them. You’ve come a long way, little guy.
What were the lessons learned from this story? First, don’t believe old wive’s tales. But most of all Keep the faith. Trust in God and keep good doctors. Enuf