THE GIANT KILLER

I was married, 19, 5'4" and weighed 90 lbs. A queasy, strange feeling was running thru my blood. Could I be preg? My internist gave me an OBGYN name but I needed more. I heart pump to get me onto Dr. Berger examining table. His nurse told me to slide down a little and put my feet in the stirrups and I must have turned green. ‘Do I have to?’ I asked. She said something like pshaw and motioned where I had to go. A large paper towel covered me. It immediately slipped off and landed on the floor. Nursie picked it up, crunched it and put it in the trash. She put another on me and told me to hold on to it. That was impossible. My hands were covering my bony hips so she tacked the towel under my arse.

A neat looking man, not much taller than my 5'4" came in. His small gray moustache was neatly trimmed, his eyes sunny and warm. ‘Mrs. Jordan, I’m Dr. Berger. Don’t be frightened. This culture won’t hurt. It will confirm or not what I believe to be true, you are pregnant.’ It didn’t hurt but my embarrassment made me want to grab some clothes, any clothes, and run. Mrs. Jordan, it looks to me that you are in about your third month. Does that seem plausable? I must have smiled because he smiled. ‘Sure, I guess it’s better than cancer.’

Driving home I wondered why I wasn’t thrilled, excited. Ralph is going to be shocked, maybe angry. This was not a planned child. As usual, the first thing he did when he passed the hallway was to take off his shoes, go upstairs and lie down to relax for a few minutes. This time I followed him to our room. I sat next to him and sprung the news. Ralph turned white, was actually speechless. Like a robot, he suddenly sat straight up, took my hand, hugged me tight and started kissing me from my forehead down to my belly button. Breathless, he stopped. ‘Gosh, Ralph, if my doctor had done to me what you just did, I’d have him locked up for eternity.’

Two days later I felt a little quiver and a lot of nausea. The morning sickness was upon me. Ralph bought me a dozen boxes of United Biscuits, just in case. It took two months before the nausea left and I had not only devoured all the crackers, I had managed to devour several thick chunks of Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Ralph brought from the market every Saturday night as my reward for getting thru another week.

Dr. Berger ordered me to cut back on the chocolate, the sundaes or I would be a blimp. I promised I would and did only eat ½ of the Saturday nite treat–MY half. Walking was difficult. I wobbled like a pregnant duck. Sitting was uncomfortable, so was lying down. Looking in the mirror I saw a freak with a beach ball in my stomach supported on skinny legs. My weight was 145, 55 pounds more than I used to be. I covered the mirror and vowed to myself not to look again until I was free.

My time came and all I really remember is ‘Push, Push,’ until somebody hollered, ‘Oh, my god.’ White uniforms were racing around, the doctor asking for unnameable things. I blacked out. My parents and Ralph looked worried and fuzzy around my bed. It sounded like he was in a funnel when he told me we have a healthy son. Then he was silent. I mumbled, ‘Can I see him?’ ‘Not yet. Later.’ I’d like to name him David Jackson Jordan.’ In my delirium I raised my voice, ‘Are you crazy? We decided on William. Where did you get that stupid name?’ ‘Darling, you delivered a seventeen pound boy, a record for this hospital. He is going to be something to handle and the name will be perfect, Jack the Giant Killer and David who slew Goliath. Tomorrow newspaper reporters will be here to photograph our son and us. We might get on the Today Show. He is going to start out famous and will have the world before him. What do you say?’ I say ‘No, David is okay but not with Jackson. Who knows he may want to be part of the Jackson Five or Michael’s family. I’ll go for William David. It has a nice ring to it.’

Dr. Berger came in at that point, pushing a large crib. ‘How are you feeling, Alma?’ He didn’t start calling me Alma until my ninth month. ‘There was no sense telling you that I expected to have to do a C Section on you. Want me to bring him to you to hold?’ ‘No way, he’s big enough to walk to me.’

‘Alma, the pediatrician has carefully examined him and says he’s in perfect condition. You, my dear, have some stitches that won’t come out for a week. Just lie there and rest.

Just picture this, Alma, all your friends who have already bought baby clothes for your son, have to exchange them and you will have to get a larger crib and have your husband exchange all the things you thought would fit a newborn. ‘

‘Dr.Berger, just think what would have happened if I hadn’t cut back on my chocolate fudge sundaes?