Let the Baby Live
1957 - Baby Mark
Before the story is told of the 1958 birth of Kathy, the youngest of the Pick children, the story must first be told of the birth of a brother, Mark, in 1957. Baby Mark died during his delivery at the hospital. Although Elmer & Marvel rarely talked about Mark’s death, several family members and a friend shared their memories of this very sad time for the Pick family.
Richard Pick (middle son of Elmer & Marvel and 8 years old when Baby Mark died): I remember Dad coming in the house to give us the news that Mark died (2/7/57). I also have a memory of Dad later scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees (the household was in Elmer’s care while Marvel remained in the hospital).
Mary (Pick) Wagner (oldest child of Elmer & Marvel and 12 years old when Baby Mark died): We were waiting in the kitchen. Dad took a few steps, pulled out his handkerchief, and between sobs told us “The baby died.” Dad headed for the bedroom where I assume he freshened up and changed clothes. He had a funeral to plan. Whether or not we stayed home and didn’t go to school that day is unknown. As the newspaper article below states, Mark was buried that same day.
Dad asked me to accompany him to visit Mom in the hospital. I believe it was on the following Saturday or Sunday, non-school days. Before we left I gathered Mom’s favorite things – her lipstick, wave set for her hair, and bed jacket (a short cape-like jacket with ribbon ties worn to keep shoulders warm when lounging in bed). A little afraid, I entered her hospital room. Mom sat ramrod straight in her hospital bed, rather oblivious to the visitors in the room.
Ruth (Mrs. Leon) Meis (a friend of Elmer & Marvel and at the hospital at the same time as Baby Mark Pick’s delivery): I had given birth a few days earlier and was in the hospital when Marvel was admitted. In the delivery room, Marvel’s screams could be heard throughout the hospital floor. The baby, a whopping 14 pounds, couldn’t make it through the birth canal. The decision to break his clavicle was made.
Completely exhausted after the delivery, the attending physician, Dr. C B Murphy of Alton IA, fell into a heap on the floor.
I remember visiting later and Marvel not having much to say.
Barbara (Pick) Wells (middle daughter of Elmer & Marvel and 9 years old when Baby Mark died): When Mom died, I asked Joel Fisch (the funeral director) where Mark was buried and if Mom & Dad’s plots were by Mark’s. The funeral home has no record of Baby Mark’s grave site location.
David Pick (oldest son of Elmer & Marvel and 11 years old when his baby brother died): I remember the funeral and the coffin being a white wooden box about the size of a small microwave with gold thumb screws in the top corners. Later that same year when Mom was pregnant with Kathy, it was my job to ride along with her to Alton (a neighboring town) in case she had a flat tire. It made me feel pretty important.
Mary (Pick) Wagner - A short while after Mom was dismissed from the hospital, I carried the apple basket holding a newborn’s layette back to its place of storage in the northwest bedroom’s closet.
A few months later, as I laced the back of Mom’s corset, she told me she was pregnant. I happily brought out the baby basket, this time for baby Kathy.
Only once, and many years later, did Mom speak to me of Baby Mark: “It took me a year to get over it” (the birth’s physical trauma) - but never speaking of the emotional trauma.
1958 - Let the Baby Live by Mary (Pick) Wagner
(This story is for our baby sister, Kathy Ann)
“Dear God: Please let the baby live. If You do, I promise I’ll never tell another lie.” These are the words I prayed over and over while waiting for Dad to come home from the hospital on February 18, 1958. I was 13 ½ yrs old.
I wasn’t the only brother and sister praying that night for it had been only one year since Baby Mark died while Mom gave birth. Kathy Ann Pick was born healthy and we all were joyous on her arrival home. For months after Kathy was born, I went to the crib where she slept and laid my hand on her back to make sure she was alive and breathing.
Kathy was our cherished baby. There were many arguments over whose turn it was to rock our little blond girl. As I was the oldest and Kathy was the youngest, she would often follow me around. So much so that when leaving the front door, it became routine for me to look behind me after I’d walked up the street and before I rounded the corner. I always wanted to make sure my baby sister was safe.
Babysitting my brothers and sisters was my responsibility. One time Richard, Dennis, and Guy had laid out all of the living room furniture’s foam cushions on the floor in the dining part of the kitchen and were having a good old time jumping up and down. I was carrying Kathy and needed to go to the stove to warm her bottle. The only way to get there was to walk on the cushions. After a few steps, I felt a crunch on the bottom of my left heel. I pulled out the eye end of a sewing needle that was embedded in one of the cushions. Ouch! I don’t remember what I said but a lot of yelling at the boys came out of my mouth. But Kathy remained safely in my arms.
There was also the memory when Kathy was being weaned from the bottle and I hid it in the cupboard above the refrigerator out of sight. In April 1960 we moved to the farm. I was removing everything out of the cupboard above the frig and lo and behold there was the forgotten bottle half full of curdled and hardened milk.
Music and singing was favorite of the Pick sisters. “Bird Dog” was a popular song back in 1959. We got such a kick out of teaching Kathy to say, “I a bird dog.” We would laugh and laugh and ask her to repeat it. Of course, she would. She equally loved the love from her siblings.
Kathy turned out to be a generous, kind, thoughtful, and loving person. God answered my prayers.
