The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1932-05-20
MaternityW ard
So
By Fannie Hurst
20 by Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.)
(WNU Seryice)

maternity hospital over period
i of seven years and not have
some rather special ideas about
The story of mankind. Vesta had. She
had seen, through the long period of
her association with an institution
dedicated to birth, the mills of the
gods grinding out the relentless grist
of human destiny.
Day after day, there occurred in the
wards of the maternity hospital the
miracle of life or the tragedy of death.
Babies. babies. babies; wanted. un-
wanted, alive and kicking, pink, blue,
male and female, opened their blue
eyes upon an etheric world bounded
by doctors, nurses, internes, wan moth
ers and blear-eyed fathers.
The eyes of Vesta had come to be
a little bitter about this business of
birth. 1t seemed to her symbolic that
the newborn child. still blue with the
mysterious pallor of those glacial him
terlands preceding life. should first of
all, as greeting to his fellow humans,
quicker up to cry.
Sometimes, the newborn child, not
yet an hour old, lay in his crib and
frowned. as if already fear and pre-
monition were upon him.
Poor darling. Vesta found herself
saying.
A pink cherub opened its eyes upon
ward of pain; grew up in streets
and tenements of gloom and CRIME.
went out into a world of disappoint-
ment and chagrin and in turn gave life.
OF course. there was the other as
pect. The bright wanted babies who
were born into bright loving homes.
The youngsters who thrived and pros
pered and begot happily in turn. But
somehow, from the vantage of the hos
pital ward. the odds seemed so against
that.
The tired, broken-down. poverty
stricken mothers. the babies with the
thwarted pain-riddled futures seemed
so greatly in the majority. Walking
along the rows of cribs, it was diff
cult not to feel your heart hurt. Even
in the private rooms, where they lay
swaddled in expensive layettes, the
odds seemed against them. Anyway,
after seven years Of the routine Of
seeing them born, something akin to
chronic pain lay in the heart of Vesta.
What grave responsibility to give
life. How sure one needed to be.
How thoughtless. unconsciOusly cruel,
reckless and ignorant were most of the
parents who dared to daily with the
miracle of creation.
It made one fearsome, unventure-
some. cautious and tinged with bit
terness.
1t seemed to Vesta, studying the
plights of the stricken parents. that
their sense of responsibility. their
SCARED consciences, must be more
than they could bear.
Sometimes, walking home from the
hospital. moving among the shouting
playing children of the tenement-lined
streets observing their drab little uni
forms of poverty. their pale faces. the
rickety legs. it felt, momentarily at
least. uncomfortable that she continue
to play her role in assisting mothers
to give life.
Morbid. said some. Embittered said
others, or sensitive, wicked, unbal-
anced, old maidish, sour grapes, pes
simist.
Whatever the case, at twenty-five,
there were ridges of vicariOus suffer
ing around Vesta's mouth and along
her brow and deep in her eyes the
muddy waters of pain.
world of pain.
Not that these thoughts FREEDOM
mated the personality of Vesta. Out
wardly at least, she was calm, efficient.
even rather beautiful in pale
harassed sort of way. She had gen.
tleness and. strangely enough, great
skill i'm her work.
Sense of humor, one doctor. chatting,
used to tell her she lacked. Sense of
humor! Sense of humor about pain
a world was to learn somehow to adapt
oneself to the injustice of suffering
childhood, there did manage to survive
in Vesta, even with her sensitiveness
to the pain about her, a joy of life.
1t was not difficult to muster a
sense of humor about much of the
mortal drama that went on about her.
Almost every evening, in the apart
ment she shared with two nurses,
there were hilarious recitals of the
anecdotes of the day. The sayings of
bewildered mothers. befuddled fathers
and precocious children.
Often, the three girls invited young
doctors into dine with them and the
zest and vitality of these parties was
Vesta. She was good at play. The
inner torment. the trials of the day.
the vicarious pain for humanity, the
sense of Illustration, fell from her like
a mantle once she was free of the hos
pital and its etheric aroma.
"At heart, you are in love with the