A birth in September

Dedicated to my little sister, the girl who would wet my bed as a toddler, tease  me as a little girl, and become my dear friend as a lady.

The day dawned clear, blue, and sunny. September days in the valley were simply summer days a few degrees cooler. There was no changing of the leaves in Northern California, no bite to the air to hearken the calendar's turn to fall--only sunshine and blue skies.

The many inhabitants of a small house awakened to more than sunshine that day--they awoke to the announcement that It was coming. The long awaited addition would finally arrive. Mommy would have baby number five. The children listened eagerly as Daddy gently told them the news. His eyes lovingly surveyed his brood as he gave them a list of instructions for the day.

Be extra obedient today. No fighting. Play quietly inside, or better yet outside. And finally, let Mommy be--let her labor.

The children were delighted. A day of school traded in for a day of play, as all homeschooling mothers know, childbirth and math drills do not mix well. Chores would probably be ignored, and there would be a babysitter coming later to entertain and care for them when it was time for Mommy and Daddy to go to the hospital! What a day! And at the end of the day, there would be a baby! A live, wriggling, silky and velvety dolly for them to keep always.

The girls--six and three--hoped for another baby sister to add to their doll collection. A sweet little girl with dark wisps of hair, satin cheeks, and rosebud lips. The boys-- five and not quite two--hoped for a baby brother to grow into one of them: roguish boy with pink cheeks, dirty elbows, and scraped knees.

"It will be a boy; I know!" five year old Ben declared with the grave insistence little boys posses.

"No, silly, it will be a girl because of the pattern, and her middle name will be Susanna!" big sister Susie declared with omniscience that comes from being six and the eldest.

The pattern Susie mentioned, was in fact, a known one. Thus far, the Manthei children had been born: girl, boy, girl, boy,...and the pattern dictated the baby number five would be a girl.

"I want a girl!" cried golden-haired Rachel, understanding the need to bolster her gender's stronghold in the family.

"Josh wants a boy, too!" Ben announced for his younger brother.

Josh, not quite two, gazed at his scheming siblings with round, brown eyes, blissfully unaware that he was soon to be booted from his place as family baby.

Morning soon drifted into afternoon and the children gathered on the front porch, regaled by stories told by Mommy's friend.

The children peppered her with questions, as only children can, while their mother walked laps around the property. This was their mother's fifth birth: she knew to deal with labor.

Susie, the oldest, listened the adults' conversation. She learned knew words such as "contraction," and understood that it had something to do with a baby coming.

The day lengthened and still there was no baby. The children grew impatient, but the adults promised them that was the way with babies: they came as they wished.

In the late afternoon, Susie walked into to the kitchen to inquire about dinner--the children were hoping for a treat. She found her mother standing in a a puddle of water.

"Did you spill your drink, Mommy?"

Her mother smiled, remembering what almost three  year old Susie had said a few years before when she had encountered the same situation. Her little girl had lisped "Did you wet your pants, Mommy?"

This time, though, her oldest could understand what was happening.

"My water broke, which means the baby is going to be coming soon. Go get me a towel and tell Daddy."

Susie raced to tell her father the exciting news. "Daddy, Daddy, Mommy's water broke and the baby is coming!" The little girl danced about and ran to tell her siblings that the standstill had come to an end.

A few minutes later, the parents were ready to  leave. They hugged and kissed their children, thanked the babysitter, and instructed their youngsters to behave, promising them a call once baby arrived.

The children leaned out an open window, four little heads eagerly bobbing in cadence with four little hands waving farewell.

But their mother hadn't even reached the van when she knew something was different. She gasped, then calmly looked at her husband, and a dialogue both familiar yet unusual occurred.

"It's coming."

"Yes, I know. Let's get you into the house."

"No time. It's coming now."

And she was right. Her fifth baby would not wait even the few moments it would take for her mother to walk to the house. She was going to be born right then--and on the only surface available--her parents' front lawn.

As soon as the alert babysitter saw the beginning of the discussion, she pulled the children from the window and ushered them into a back bedroom. If there was to be a baby born [ostensibly in the living room] the children were still too young to see.

At first the children waited paitently, although they showered the sitter with impatient questions.

"How long will it take?"

"How can they have a baby if they haven't gone to the hospital yet?"

"Will Mommy be okay?"

But then the seconds turned to minutes, and the minutes to longer minutes. Waiting no longer seemed feasible.

"Why is it taking so long?

"Can we go out there?"

"I still don't know how they can get a baby without going to a hospital!"

Finally, Susie began to concoct a plan. Although she was just six years old, she was an oldest child endowed with ability to lead her siblings and a creative mind to form schemes.

"We need to get out of here and see the baby--and Mommy," she murmured to Ben, who was still confused as to the no hospital but baby mystery.

"You and I--we can do it. Just like Walker, Texas Ranger got out of prison."

With their favorite karate-chopping t.v. good guy as their guiding light, the children planned their escape.

Then, quick as...well small children...the plan was enacted. The babysitter found herself holding a small toddler and watching her two oldest charges unlock, open, and run through the bedroom door.

"Stop! Don't go out there!" she cried.

"Don't let her get you, Ben!" cried the Texas Ranger...err, Susie.

Susie made it to the window before babysitter, who had also managed to corral her brother, grabbed her and pulled her down.

Susie did her best Texas Ranger imitation--as had her brother--but the rather sore babysitter still managed to pull both protesting children away.

Once the excitement wore off, Susie and Ben realized the errors of their plan, and give sincere penance to their frazzled sitter.

Soon after, Daddy came into the room and announced that a silky, rosebud mouth baby girl had been born. They named her Elizabeth Susanna, much to Susie's delight.

The little Manthei girl, who had arrived ever unexpected on the front lawn, was soon given a name fitting her outdoor birth: Birdie.  One night, Daddy, listening to the coos of his infant daughter, declared that the child sound like a bird. Henceforth, her nickname was Birdie, a derivative of Elizabeth belonging uniquely to her.

She inherited her father's brown eyes, her mother's light hair and skin, and a personality all her own. She was quiet as a toddler, content to gaze upon her fingers while sitting on her mother's lap in church. She was playful as a girl, her giggles filling the house with even more laughter. She grew to be wise and responsible as a young lady, caring for the three siblings that followed her, but never outgrowing her sobriquet, Birdie.

And so, every September 16th in northern California, the large family in the small house of the valley marks the anniversary of a birth. A birth which did not occur in a hospital, but on the grass. The birth of the girl named Birdie.

Postscript: All eight of the Manthei children followed the prescribed girl, boy pattern, and even today, family pictures attest to the pattern's skills in evening the gender sides.