“Ruth Calloway came in through that side door on April 19th, 1975,” Grandma said.
She picked up the photograph again and looked at the young girl in it.
“She was nineteen. She’d just finished her first year at college. Her father was Harold Calloway. He owned the biggest bank in the county. He was also chairman of the hospital board.”
Calloway Pavilion, I thought.
“Ruth’s father was furious when he found out she was pregnant,” Grandma said. “He sent her away to stay with an aunt for six months, so nobody in town would know. Then he arranged for her to deliver here. Quietly. In Room 214. And he arranged for the baby to be taken away and adopted by a family in another state. A family he picked. Ruth never even got to know who.”
“What about the baby’s father?” I asked.
Grandma and Dr. Hale looked at each other.
Neither of them answered.
“Ruth was in labor for nineteen hours,” Grandma said. “I was her nurse. I sat with her the whole time. She held my hand so hard she nearly broke my fingers. And the whole time, she kept looking at that little window. At the cherry tree. It was in bloom. That was the first spring it ever bloomed.”
Her eyes filled.
“She kept saying, ‘It’s so pretty. It’s so pretty.’ Over and over. Between the contractions. Like she was holding on to that tree to keep from drowning.”
“The baby was born at 4:17 in the morning,” Dr. Hale said quietly. “A healthy boy. Seven pounds, two ounces.”
My father. My father was born at 4:17 in the morning.
“The agency woman was supposed to take him right away,” Grandma said. “She was waiting in the hallway with a car seat. But she’d fallen asleep in a chair out there. It was four in the morning. And Ruth was crying and crying and begging, ‘Please. Just let me see him. Just once. Just for one minute.’”
Grandma looked down at her hands.
“And I broke the rules.”
“What did you do?” I whispered.
“I picked him up off the scale,” she said. “I wrapped him in a blanket. And I put him in his mother’s arms.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“She held him for three hours,” Grandma said. “Three hours, Daniel. She counted his fingers and his toes. She kissed his little head. She sang to him. She told him stories about the cherry tree. She told him she was so sorry. She told him she loved him more than anything in the world.”
Dr. Hale cleared his throat.
“I was the resident on call that night,” he said. “I came in to check on her, and I saw what Evelyn had done. I should have reported it. I should have called the agency woman right away.”
“But you didn’t,” Grandma said.
“No,” Dr. Hale said. “I didn’t.”
He reached over and touched the photograph.
“I took that picture,” he said. “With Evelyn’s camera. Ruth asked me to. She said, ‘I want proof that this happened. I want to know that this was real.’”
I looked at the photo. At the young girl smiling with her tired, red eyes. At the baby in her arms. At the little square window behind them, with the pink cherry blossoms.
My grandmother’s window. My grandfather’s tree. My father, three hours old.
And the woman who gave birth to him.
“Around seven in the morning,” Grandma said, “the agency woman woke up. She came in to take the baby. And Ruth wouldn’t let go.”
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
Ethan holds a degree in Communications from Zurich University, where he developed his expertise in storytelling, media strategy, and audience engagement. Known for his ability to blend creativity with analytical precision, he excels at creating content that not only entertains but also connects deeply with readers.
At TheArchivists, Ethan specializes in uncovering compelling stories that reflect a wide range of human experiences. His work is celebrated for its authenticity, creativity, and ability to spark meaningful conversations, earning him recognition among peers and readers alike.
Passionate about the art of storytelling, Ethan enjoys exploring themes of culture, history, and personal growth, aiming to inspire and inform with every piece he creates. Dedicated to making a lasting impact, Ethan continues to push boundaries in the ever-evolving world of digital content.