Dear Family,
You ought to see her! So funny and sweet. She's in a crib here by my bed and I like and stare at her simply fascinated . She has Rich's nose (she was spared the generous McCormick one) and a sweet pretty mouth. She has the roundest face and very big blue eyes and really red hair. Her name is Kristina Ingrid, which will no doubt be Kris most of the time. I fed her today and she really went after it with enthusiasm. Having the baby was a lot more simple than I'd imagined. I guess modern methods explain that.
I woke Rich up at 1 a.m. and he dashed downstairs to get the baby manual to read up on labor pains. Of course, he had to go to work that morning at 4 a.m. but we managed it all very well for my friend Betty came over, and was with me until Rich sent the Panagra station wagon back to take Betty and me to the Clinic around 5 a.m. The hospital I'd planned to go to had no rooms at the last minute, so I went to my doctor's own maternity clinic. Kristina was born at 10:20 a.m. Rich left work early and was here. The midwives, doctor and nurse were wonderful and so far my Spanish ability has surprised me. I guess when one has to, one manages somehow. But my, how my vocabulary has grown in two days!
I could write a volume about this strange maternity hospital. It's really Chilean! Rooms all open on an an outdoor courtyard. Visitors are noisy and gay at all hours. I have my own baby clothes and blanket. I'll omit some of the more unfavorable details. You should have seen the way they put my American baby clothes on Kristina. The shirt over the kimono and 3 diapers...Today, I showed the nurse how to do it. Nurses and "matronas" are very nice. I have a phone in my room. Rich called to say there is a letter from you and he'll bring it down to me tonight so I shall continue this when I've read it.
(letter written home to Des Moines, Iowa by my Mother, the day after I was born. )
This year I celebrate my 75th birthday which is a significant event for me. Since Mother died in 2014, I miss her calling me up to tell me my "birth story" . She loved remembering having me, her first child, far away in Santiago, Chile. She remembered it as a grand adventure and told it that way.
I liked the part of the story where she reminded me that September 2nd, 1945 was Victory Over Japan Day. It was the day the Japanese surrendered at the end of World War II. It was a day of celebration everywhere in the world, even in Chile. The doctor and nurses at the maternity clinic told Mother I should be named Victoria, for victory.
When I would ask, "why didn't you name me that?"
"I didn't like the nickname, Vicky, which is what you would have been called." she replied.
She was right, of course.
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