![]() ![]() ![]() My father said she could name me Carolyn or Annette. My mother could have bled to death and I could have been born prematurely or, worse, stillborn.īut I came into the world as a feisty seven-pound baby, my mother’s second daughter. Aunt Lydia, the midwife, said that by the time I was born, the placenta was almost completely detached from the uterus. ![]() But when the bleeding stopped, she shrugged it off, assuming she was still pregnant. Mom had hemorrhaged throughout her pregnancy and thought she was miscarrying. When she saw the placenta, she realized that my mother had chronic placental abruption. She was the midwife who had delivered babies for two generations, including my mother. Aunt Lydia Jessop was the midwife who brought me into the world on January 1, 1968, just two hours after midnight.Īunt Lydia could not believe I’d survived. I was born in the bitter cold but into warm and loving hands. ![]()
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