First Grandchild, part one

The excitement for the first grandchild in both Vivian and Ed’s families mounted for everyone but Vivian. Both grandmothers-to-be—Leta and Anna spent their time making baby clothes and linens, making sure that Vivian was well fed and not overworking herself, and just being a flutter of excitement. As for Vivian, she was uncomfortable. Her ankles were swollen, her back ached, and her fingers grew so thick that her wedding ring dug into the skin. The smell of coffee made her nauseous. Some evenings her legs ached. The doctor urged her to stay off her feet as much as possible, but she protested. She had a husband to feed, a house to keep clean, and preparations. How could see possibly sit in her new rocking chair with her feet propped up on a footstool all day?

The rocking chair was a surprise gift. In early December 1938, a delivery truck parked on the street in front of the duplex. Ed was at work, and Vivian was resting with a cup of tea in hand. She saw it through the front window of the duplex where they were living. There weren’t many delivery trucks on Dearborn Avenue, mostly because there were only eight houses with a farm at the end of the street. She could only see the cab of the vehicle, but she could hear that something was being unloaded. Then there was quiet, so her mind returned to her own thoughts.

This was interrupted by a strong tap at the front door. “Just a minute,” she called, because it took her nearly a minute to stand and make her way to the door. When she opened it, the deliveryman was there with a rocking chair beside him.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Are you Mrs. Edward Mextaker?” the fellow asked, unsuccessfully reading the name on his delivery order form.

“Yes, I am,” she answered, not bothering to correct him. It was common for persons to mispronounce their heavily German last name.

“I have something for you,” he said, and gestured to the rocking chair.

“But I didn’t order that,” she protested.

He looked at his order form, and showed her. “It says right here to deliver this to you, ma’am.”

“Where did it come from?”

He shrugged his shoulder. “Don’t know, ma’am. I just delivers ‘em. Now, where do you want it?”

“There’s no tag or card or note?” she asked.

“I don’t got one, and I don’t see one attached to the rocker,” he said, growing impatient. “I got more deliveries to make, ma’am. Where do you want this?”

She held the door, and he placed the rocking chair in a nearly empty spot in the living room. Then she signed the receipt, and he exited, leaving her to ponder who would have sent her the piece of furniture. It was very sturdy and looked inviting, but she feared that if she sat in it, she would not be able to get out. The gift could not have come from her husband Ed. He would have told her.

She wondered all day, and even got her husband to wondering when he returned home for the evening. After they had eaten, she telephoned her mother, who stated that she had not sent the rocking chair. Then Vivian telephoned her father, but he had not sent it either, nor had her grandparents with whom he lived. As they were living on the same street as Ed’s parents, he went to their house, learning that they had not sent the chair either.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Vivian said as they were preparing to retire for the night. “Who could have sent this? Do you think it’s a mistake?”

“I do agree it’s strange,” Ed agreed, “but I’m sure we’ll find out at some point where it came from.”

By Christmas, they had still not learned the identity of the angel who had given Vivian the rocking chair, although she still had not used it. She had tried twice to sit in it, but found that with her swollen legs, large belly and weakened balance that she could not maneuver out of it very well, even by rocking herself to standing. The doctor instructed her to remain as quiet as possible. While she had not gone into premature labor, she did have some bleeding and stomach pains.

She spent much of her days doing needlework, which she could manage, even with swollen fingers. During the week, Ed’s mother Anna cooked for them and his teenage sister Doris helped keep the house clean. On the weekend, Vivian’s mother Leta cooked and cleaned house.

By the time the baby arrived on January 17, 1939, Vivian was ready. The delivery was strenuous, but the child arrived healthy and screaming. “It’s a boy!” the doctor announced with glee, and they named him Donald Edward. He was the first grandchild of the family.

But still no one claimed to be the giver of the rocking chair.

To be continued.