This is the story of how my mom’s older sister was born, back in the 1950s.

Nanny (my grandmother) went into labor at home. She called Pa (grandfather) to come and take her to the hospital. The area was very rural at the time, and the hospital was a ways away.

Pa either was already at his mother’s house or decided to stop in and tell them the “wonderful news” about the impending birth. (I don’t remember which.) His mother insisted on feeding him a good meal. And he, naturally, decided that eating was far more important than getting his pregnant wife to the hospital.

By the time Pa got to the house, Nanny was well into labor pains. She was dropped off at the hospital door and rushed to the delivery room. Meanwhile, Pa parked the car. By the time he walked into the hospital, he was a father. My aunt was nearly born in the car — it was that close a thing.

Nanny made her opinion on the delay Very Clear, and this did not repeat for the next two children.

I’m in the emergency room being checked out for some extreme pain. They’re going over some medical history questions, and we come to the “Are you pregnant?” section.

Doctor: “Any chance you’re pregnant?”

Me: “Nope.”

Doctor: “Completely sure?”

Me: “I haven’t had sex in five years, my tubes are tied, and I have an IUD. If I’m pregnant at this point, it’s the will of God.”

Doctor: “…but are you sure?”

They ran a pregnancy test anyway. To nobody’s surprise, it came back negative.

My sister-in-law was pregnant, and the prognosis was that she was having a girl. So, everything was pink, pink, pink. My dad got annoyed with me when I bought gender-neutral days-of-the-week onesies rather than something pink for the baby shower.

Guess what my nephew wore for the first week of his life while everything else was returned?

The lesson was not learned when it came time for my baby shower. We got pink everything. Since mine was from a DNA scan rather than an ultrasound, it was accurate, but still…

Related:
As If The Kid Gives One Single Baby Poop What Color He Wears

CONTENT WARNING: Pregnancy Loss

In college back in the 1970s, I worked in the nation’s largest beef packing plant. At the time of this story, I ran a rib and plate saw.

The company began treating us like third graders, making us raise our hands to use the restroom. Only one male worker and one female worker from a production line could go at a time, waiting until one returned before the next person on the list could go. Pathetic! Before that rule, we covered for each other, with me spelling the gal that ran the chine saw (spine) as I could make my cut and pull back her piece and make her cut.

But the circumstance that made me count the days until graduation, when I could leave the company, happened to my wife. We worked the second shift. She was a trimmer on the rib line and was pregnant. The OBGYN saw no problem with her continuing to work.

One evening, she started cramping and went to the nurses’ station. I called my foreman over and asked for a relief so I could take her to the emergency room.

Foreman: “Stay put; I’ll check on her.”

Within a minute, the nurse came out.

Nurse: *Yelling* “[My Name]! Get [Wife] to the ER!”

Me: *To my foreman* “I have to go.”

Foreman: “I’ll take her!”

WHAT?!

I put a cut partway into my saw and twisted it sideways, breaking the blade, which stopped the chain in the plant. Then, I headed out to take my wife to the ER.

The saddest part of this is that we lost the baby that night.

I wish I could’ve told my foreman, “I am leaving in a month and you are stuck here!”

One early morning shift, a pregnant customer comes in asking for a book.

Customer: “It’s a blue book with “stress” in it.”

As vague as that is, I do a search for her so she can see the books we have. After way too long she gives up and pays for her other books.

Customer: *In an accusatory tone.* “You obviously don’t know your own inventory! Such an idiot!”

I get so frazzled that I give her the wrong change. She flips out even though it’s a quick fix.

Customer: “You’re too stupid to be employed!”

She continues this to the point that when she is done I am in tears. I hope it was just the pregnancy hormones otherwise I feel bad for that kid.