Bainbridge 1982-ish

Rachel's mom, Lari, Me and Shirley

Sorry if I managed to completely confuse everyone with my hop-skip-jump-system of stories, but I have to go with my brain flow, otherwise I lose it all.

So here are some murmerings of the time between us moving to Bainbridge and when the shit hit the fan.

After we settled in, after all our belongings had arrived (mine we moved ourselves in a Uhaul, Wheelie's came from New York with Bekins), and after we had a huge, successful garage sale selling off all our duplicates (irons, pots and pans etc) and after having met some of our neighbors and gotten to know the lay of the land, we proceeded to enjoy a leisurely year. We made some friends. We discovered that we actually lived in a bible belt sort of area and taught ourselves not to say: "oh GOD" but "oh Gosh" instead.

We found little restaurants to frequent. We discovered the joy of taking the ferry to Seattle.
We especially marvelled at Pike Place Market, with it's vast arrea of shops, foods, flowers

http://pikeplacemarket.org

With the Olympics on one side and the Cascades on the other, we were grateful for the clean and clear air. And despite the fact that everyone claims it rains too much in Seattle, we never found it much of a problem.

Wheelie enjoyed his work, he loved taking his 5 mile walk to and from the ferry every day. My son was doing relatively well in 4th grade, school being a stone's throw from our house. And I became a crocheting fool, making valances for the entire house, about 12 yards of it.

My neighbor and I became good friends, she taught me how to can and preserve, and showed me how to make Almond Roca, something she did every year for Christmas. I showed her how to make oliebollen and moorkoppen. We both gained a few pounds in those days.

In April of 1983 my 'old' boss and his family came down on their way to Canada, B.C. and invited us along. We had a wonderful time in Vancouver, and visited among other things Butchart Gardens

http://www.butchartgardens.com

and had high tea at the Empress Hotel.

http://www.fairmont.com/empress/GuestServices/Restaurants/AfternoonTea.htm

Back home I was getting antsy about having another baby. We initially discussed this issue in regard with the potential of Wheelie being afflicted with his family's genetic problem. He didn't want more children. But....I did....
In the end we decided to take a chance. Not ever knowing what side of the 50% we would land anyway, and considering both our ages it became sort of a now-or-never situation.

So it wasn't surprising that I found myself pregnant the minute I stopped taking birth control.
Despite the ambivalence that still hovered a little, we were excited.
I was estatic, at 35 I didn't really have much hope of ever becoming a mommy again.

As luck would have it, the company Wheelie worked for had excellent health insurance. The CFO, a woman who was pregnant herself when she decided on our particular plan, was a smart cookie. We didn't pay a dime for the pregancy, pre and post natal care, hospital.

We found a wonderful no nonsense doctor at Swedish in Seattle, and we sailed through a very easy and enjoyable 9 months. We were into natural everything, our doctor only too happy to go along with our wishes.

I found out that there was a prenatal swim arobics class on the Island, which I joined. And for 5 months, 7 of us bonded as we all grew bigger. We were all due about the same time, but spaced out enough so that at 8 months we were having baby showers for each other about every week. :>)

This group of ladies was comprised of a swim instructor, a management consultant, a few housewives such as myself and an opera singer.

The seven of us were quite a sight after class when we all took our shower in the public and very open shower room. One little boy pointed to one of us exclaiming: That one is pregnant!!!, and turning around and noticing: Ohhh, another one!!! and another one!!!!!!!!
This was in the days when we weren't bashful, or afraid to poison little boys' heads by showing our naked bellies.

In those days none of us were afraid to nurse our babies where ever and when ever they needed to either. It wasn't frowned upon, as it seems to these days.

After our class we would head on over to our favorite hangout: the Streamliner Diner, where we porked out on peanutbutter pie and other delicacies.

http://www.yelp.com/biz/streamliner-diner-bainbridge-island

And yes, I had long hair. My hair grew incredibly fast in those nine months.

When the babies started coming, we reveled in each other's joys and sorrows. One baby was born deaf, some had a few other medical problems, but overall the whole bunch came out well.

My last doctor's appointment was two days before Bugs was born. I didn't realize it, but I was already in labor. That day the sad news had reached us that my brother-in-law had passed away after a long struggle with lung cancer. So I wasn't paying attention to the strange rumblings in my belly, and the aching in my back. I was grieving for him and my sister.

My doctor told me that I should go home, bake three dozen chocolate cookies from scratch and I would go into serious labor within 24 hours. She told me to make sure to bring the cookies when I came in (I DID!)

Low and behold, my labor started in earnest that evening. I walked around the kitchen and the livingroom for most of Saturday and the following evening. Knowing the last ferry was about to leave at midnight, we called the doctor, and wondered whether to take it, or wait until the morning. We opted for the latter, as I didn't exactly wanted to be in the hospital all that long.
So I proceeded to do my loop through the house, holding my tummy, and breathing hard, while Wheelie slept.
Men!

At 4am I had about had it and we called the ferry to let them know we were in labor and on our way.
We were escorted to the front of the boat, and they captain put on some speed. We made it to the other side in 20 minutes, about 7 minutes less than the normal cross over. On the ferry I was in transition, arghhh...we sat there, faces close together, breathing/puffing, me concentrating on Wheelie's lips as he breathed with me. People around us, getting out of their cars to go upstairs, gave us knowing glances and wished us well. Others looked a bit apprehensive, probably not wanting to be part of something so intimate as the possibility of a child being born right there on the boat. Mostly though, a woman in labor on her way to Seattle wasn't a rare thing.

We were let off first, and we raced up the hill. Wheelie left/parked the car in front of the hospital where it stayed until he went back home the next morning, no ticket, I guess they knew. :>)
And there we were, me 8 cm dialated, not wanting to lay down, needing to keep walking, my doctor feeding HER baby, and telling me she would get around to me as soon as he was done. Arghh.

She finally got down to business and broke my water. It only took 20 minutes to get this baby out, and at 8am, while the sun was rising through the window, our beautiful redhead came into the world. No crying, wide awake, looking around as if to say: where the hell am I?
My phone call to Holland was bitter sweet. Life and death passing each other in such a sort timespan. We all cried, we all had our own reasons.

I kept a small diary that day, written on a scrap of paper. I recently found it among all the other baby stuff I keep in a box, and when I read it after all these years I still felt the emotions of that day.

We went home the next morning, Bug's first ferry ride. If she had been born on the boat the night before, she would have received a lifelong pass for the ferry system. Oh well. :>)

This is a picture of Wheelie with Bugs when she was about 5 weeks old. On our back porch.

Our group kept visiting about once a month until everyone reached their first birthday. After that the group fell apart due to people moving and such.
The picture here was taken after the last baby was born, (the one on the right, she took over our car seat.) The lineup was pretty much from the oldest (on the left) on down:
Rachel, Edward (the deaf baby) Tristan, Benjamin (the swim instructor's), Suzanne, Bugs, and I can't for the life of me remember the little one's name. She was the daughter of the opera singer.

1983 Christmas. I made Bugs' first dress, velvet with a lace collar. She was bald as a billiard ball but had red fuzz. And the biggest cheeks and eyes.

Tristan's mom, the management consultant, had found a way to get a hold of cheap OshKosh overalls. Since she had a business license she was able to get these for wholesale prices, much to everyone's delight, as these overalls were all the fashion those days.
Bugs was a happy baby, always the smile, always ready to go. This lady and her husband, turned out, were also devotees of Baba Muktananda, and even spent time with him in India.
She made the most incredible grilled cheese sandwiches, and we became good friends as well.
I think this was around Easter time. Bugs on her big brother's lap. He was in 5th grade then, and took his sister to school for show and tell. The rocking chair they are sitting on is still here. On the back porch, the chair Boo loves to sit and rock herself silly on. A great J.F. Kennedy/L.L.Bean chair.

It was about that time that all hell broke lose at First American. Wheelie managed to stick it out with the company until the very end. It took about a year for all of this to develop, so it wasn't like we were surprised. But still, when he came home with the news that he too, was now without a job, we knew that life in Camelot was ending.

I look back on those wonderful years often, especially at time when things are bleak and downright shitty. We had a pretty darn good start there. And the memories will never fade.

Life is strange, indeed. But looking back, entertaining as well. And never boring!

SGMKJ!