DOLLY
“My Little Dollar Bill”
by Patricia B. Gould
Imogene touched the tiny baby’s cheek lightly with her finger. She felt nice and warm. Her little eyes moved – in baby dreams – under her almost transparent eyelids. Her tiny hands and feet were perfectly formed; her arms and legs were not much bigger than Imogene’s thumb. Adjusting the tiny bonnet on her baby’s head, Imogene watched her breathe for a minute, then made sure the blanket was tucked tightly around her and laid her back into her tiny makeshift bed. The doctor had arranged several layers of thick cotton batting in the bottom of a shoe box, then covered it with a folded cotton diaper and a soft baby blanket.
Later, when it was time to feed her baby again, Imogene thought back to the beginning of the week. She picked the tiny bundle out of the box and held her close then sat down in the rocking chair near the stove; she settled her weight lightly so that the pressure on her tender bottom would be relieved.
Alice should not have been born yet; she was two months premature. When Imogene offered her nipple to the little mouth, Alice ate ravenously for a minute or so, then closed her eyes as if she were exhausted. Imogene let her sleep for five or ten minutes then coaxed her to eat again. Each feeding ritual lasted about an hour, then she would lay her tiny infant back in her bed. “You’ve lived for a week now little Alice. The doctor said he wasn’t sure if you would, but you showed him, didn’t you,” she said. She smiled and gently touched her baby’s cheek again.
Feeding Alice every two or three hours, twenty fours hours a day, left little time for sleep; she was tired most of the time. She was grateful that Del had been making the meals and tending the stoves. Molly, almost 5, was a big help to her, too, doing as many chores as a little girl could.
“It's too cold out for me to do more than feed the animals and do the milking anyway, so I have plenty of time to help out,” Del said. “You can stay in bed as long as you want to. Molly and I are doing just fine.”
Little Molly felt very important. Her given name was Muriel but her Daddy called her Molly. She was the big sister now, willing to fetch this and that for her mother; it also gave her the opportunity to peek into the baby’s box every few minutes. She adored her little sister and called her Dolly, like her daddy did.
The week before, on February 18,1921, Imogene was on her way back to the house from the barn with a heavy pail of milk. Her morning ritual included milking the cow, feeding the chickens and helping Del clean the stalls; then she would go back inside to the nice warm house and fix breakfast. Del had lost his left leg, just below his knee in 1914, before they were married. Gangrene had set in after he cut his big toe with an ax. Imogene was hired to take care of him while he recuperated from his amputation, and though he was 25 years older than she was, she loved the gentle man. She was 16 when Molly was born, a year after they were married.
As usual Molly went to the barn with her. She fed the chickens while Imogene milked the cow. During the night, rain and sleet had covered the snow packed paths with a thick layer of ice. As on every other icy morning, she carried the parlor stove ash-bucket with her, and strewed ashes onto the path in front of her as they walked cautiously toward the barn.
About ten feet from the barn door she ran out of ashes. I’ll have to finish the rest of the path with the kitchen stove ashes after breakfast, she thought. She carefully moved to the edge of the path into the deep snow following Del’s foot prints. She marveled over the balance that he had with just his one good leg and his wooden leg; he never fell down. Of course, she smiled, he always used a crutch in the snow, and while doing his chores in the barn.
After the cow was milked she called to Molly that she was ready to go back to the house. “I gave the cow some grain like Daddy told me to, Mama,” Molly said proudly.
“That’s good, dear,” Imogene answered. She hung the milking stool up on the nail by the stanchion. They both stepped out of the barn door onto the slippery path. Imogene had the heavy pail of milk in her right hand and was holding Molly’s hand with her left. Molly picked up the empty ash bucket.
Suddenly both of Imogene’s feet went out from under her, she was on her bottom before she knew it. The milk splashed out of the bucket and up into the air, splattering her and Molly from head to foot. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” was all she could say. Then a loud, “Ow,” escaped her lips. The right side of her backside had been stabbed with a sharp piece of ice. The fall jarred her whole body and she could feel her baby kicking wildly inside her belly. Her stomach churned making her nauseous.
“Oh! Mama, are you all right?” little Molly asked. She tried to help her mother up. She started to cry.
“Now, now, don’t cry Molly. Its all right. Oh, please don’t tug on me, dear, wait a minute.” Imogene set the empty milk pail upright. She took a deep breath, “Go get your father, Molly,” she said.
Molly started to cry again as she ran back into the barn. “Daddy! Daddy!” she shouted. She ran toward the hay loft. “Daddy, come quick. Mamma fell down! She can’t get up! Hurry, hurry!” she continued when she found him. She tugged on his loose pant leg, almost pulling him off balance.
“What? What happened?” Del asked his excited daughter. “Mama fell down, outside, by the barn door,” Molly shouted. Her father was deaf in his left ear and she almost always had to repeat herself.
When he realized what Molly was saying he grabbed his crutch and was at the other end of the barn before she was. Imogene was still sitting on the cold ice. “Em, are you all right?” he called to her.
When she saw Del coming toward her she turned over onto her hands and knees and tried to get to her feet. She put one hand on the door case and tried to use it to pull herself up. “I hurt my backside and I think I did something to the baby. It’s kicking hard. Please help me to the house.” She was breathing hard and started to cry.
He braced himself with his crutch and reached down and took his wife’s arm and helped her to her feet. Molly picked up the empty pails and they all carefully made their way slowly to the house.
Del helped her take her coat off and hung it up for her; it was covered with milk. Imogene took off her wet dress, petticoat and panties and put them in the wash tub; all she had on was her undershirt. Even her shoes and stockings were wet.
Molly was scared and tears ran down her cheeks, she stared at the nakedness of her mother; she had never seen her without clothes.
“Molly, please don’t stare,” she said to her little girl. “And don’t cry, I’m alright. You didn’t get hurt did you?” Molly shook her head no and wiped her eyes on her coat sleeve. “Why don’t you put your other coat on, take the kitchen ashes out, and finish the path. We don’t want Daddy to fall like we did.” Imogene smiled weakly at her scared little girl.
Molly nodded her head and said, “Okay,” found her other coat then went behind the stove and picked up the heavy ash pail, she was glad to have something to do and didn’t argue with her mother. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Imogene went into the parlor with her wet boots in her hand and put them under the edge of the stove, then went into the bedroom to find clean underwear, another dress and an apron. She picked up the horse liniment from the top of the dresser, she kept it there so Del could use it to rub on his stump at night when it ached. She poured a little into her hand and then rubbed it on her backside. It was strong medicine, but she knew it would help with the pain. She snugged the cover back onto the bottle and put it back. Her nausea was starting up again.
Del came into the bedroom as she was putting on her apron. “Are you in any pain, Em?” he asked her kindly.
“Mostly my backside right now, but I feel funny, I think I have to throw up,” she said. She pulled the chamber pot out from under the bed. They hadn’t had their breakfast yet, so all she did was dry heave.
“Why don’t you lay down for a while. I’ll get us something to eat,” Del said as he left the room.
“I have to wash my hands,” she said, following him to the kitchen.
“Are you sure you don’t want to lay down? You look pretty peaked, you’re awfully white,” he said.
“No, I’ll be alright, I guess you might say I just jarred my preserves.” She tried to smile as she pumped water into the wash basin. She used the strong yellow soap laying on the shelf to scrub the liniment off her hands.
Del chuckled. Her sense of humor was one of the things he loved best about her. “Well, sit down and I’ll serve you some toast to go with them,” he laughed.
She smiled back at him as she pulled her chair out from the table and sat down carefully. She groaned.
Molly came in from spreading the ashes, bringing a cold gust of air into the nice warm kitchen. “Are you all better now, Mamma?” she asked hanging up her coat. She put the ash bucket in back of the stove where it belonged. “I did the path all the way to the barn, Daddy. Now you won’t fall down, too.” Molly’s habit of never waiting for an answer to her questions stemmed from being an only child, and always talking to herself.
“Thank you, dear,” Imogene said patting her hair. She hadn’t combed it yet.
Bacon was sizzling in the pan as Del sliced a loaf of bread. “How many eggs do you want, Molly?” he asked.
“Just one, Daddy,” Molly answered. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Go get the brush and I’ll fix your hair while we wait for breakfast, dear,” Imogene said.
“Okay,” Molly said and ran to her room.
As soon a Molly left the room Imogene groaned and held her hands over her belly. “I think you might have to go get Dr. Wells when you get done with breakfast, Del,” she said. She sucked in her breath as another contraction grabbed her lower belly.
Del turned toward her asking her to repeat what she’d just said.
“I want you to go get Dr. Wells as soon as you finish eating,” she said again, a little louder. “I’m having labor pains, and I shouldn’t be. I’m going to go lay down.” She got up and held on to the table, then the chair, then the wall as she made her way into her bedroom.
“I’ll go right now,” Del said. He took the cooked bacon out of the pan and pushed the pan to the back of the stove. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t get out of bed. Molly can help you, she can wait on you if you need anything.”
“Okay, dear,” she said. She pulled the quilt and blankets back, took her birthing pad out of the dresser, laid it out on her side of the bed, and climbed in. She pulled the quilt up over her arms and closed her eyes. She heard Del talking to Molly.
“Molly,” Del called.
“I’m right here, Daddy,” Molly said as she tugged on his pant leg. He didn’t know she was standing so close to him.
“I’m going to go get Dr. Wells. I want you to stay here and help Mamma. I’ll stoke both stoves. I don’t want you to touch them. The bacon is done if you want some. You can make a sandwich. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Molly nodded her head no, then yes, then went into her mother’s bedroom. She stood quietly by her mother’s bed and patted her arm. “Mamma?” she whispered.
“I’m all right Molly. I just need to stay quiet until Daddy comes back. Do you want something to eat?” she asked her frightened little girl.
“I’ll get me a sandwich, Mamma. Then I can brush my own hair. I’m a big girl now. I’m almost five, remember?” she said.
“Yes, I remember, dear,” Imogene smiled at her reassuringly.
~~~~~
An hour later Dr. Wells and Del Wheeler pulled their one-horse sleighs into Del’s barn. In winter the small sleighs pulled by one horse were the fastest way to travel on the snowy roads in Wakefield, Massachusetts. It was cold, the snow squeaked under their boots.
They took their coats off in the entry way and hung them up. Del tended both stoves and started a pot of coffee while Dr. Wells warmed his hands over the parlor stove.
When they were warm enough he went into the bedroom and sat down on the chair beside the bed.
Imogene was awake. She’d forced herself to relax and tried to breathe slowly. She didn’t want to have her baby before the doctor came. In fact, she didn’t want to have her baby for another two months.
“Well, now Imogene Wheeler, what’s this I hear about you? Ice skating in your condition?” He smiled at her and took her hand
She tried to smile back at him but her braveness was leaving her. A tear ran down her face. “I’ve been having pains five minutes apart since Del left to get you. I tried to breathe slowly and lay still. This baby is very early,” she said sorrowfully.
“I know, but I’m here now. You’ll be all right. Let me have a look. Did your water break yet?” He lifted the quilt up from the bottom, leaving her arms covered.
“Yes. I think it broke when I fell; I was wet all over when I got up,” she said.
`````
Imogene gave birth to a tiny girl an hour later.
Dr. Wells had never seen a preemie as lively as this one. As soon as she was born he wiped the mucus off her tiny face with one of the small cloths laying on the night stand. Then quickly swaddled her in a soft blanket and handed her to Imogene. As a rule premature babies didn’t stand much of a chance, so he always took care of the mother first. He made the same decision this time, he would check the baby’s vitals as soon as he finished tending to Imogene.
Ten minutes later when he was satisfied that Imogene would be alright and there was no excessive bleeding, he went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. By this time the baby was making soft mewling noises.
He carried a wash pan of clean, warm water back into the bedroom and took the baby away from her mother. She mewed louder when he removed her blanket; it was cold. Using a piece of cotton he gently washed the baby’s face, making sure her nose and mouth were clear. He listened to her heart and lungs with his stethoscope. When the cold metal touched the babies chest she shivered and let out a startled squeal. He could hear no gurgling in her lungs; she seemed to be breathing normally. He was surprised.
“Is she all right?” Imogene asked, alarmed at the high pitched sound.
“Yes, I think so. She can’t weigh more than three pounds though,” he sighed. Then he smiled at Imogene; her face was covered with worry. Then he continued in a kind voice, trying to reassure her, “The only thing I can see is that her tiny legs were so tightly entwined with each other, that her left shin has an indentation in it. But she’s breathing pretty well and her heart sounds strong. I think if she makes it through the night, she’ll live to a ripe old age.” He gently diapered her with a piece of cotton batten, and wrapped her up snugly again, in another clean, soft blanket. “Let’s see if she’ll eat now; I think she’s cried long enough,” he said handing her back to her mother.
At first Imogene was a little frightened of her tiny baby, but as soon as she started to nurse she felt a calmness come over her. She held her carefully and stared at her, she was so very tiny.
Dr. Wells gave Imogene special instructions about caring for her new baby. “Don’t touch her bare skin any more than you have to. You will need to feed her every hour or two, but keep her wrapped tightly and in the box as much as you can. Keep her as close to the open oven door as possible, try not to let her get cold. I have some lanolin lotion that you can rub on her every day. And rub her leg where the dent is, I think we can straighten it out. But be very careful. Don’t rub it too hard. I’ll stop by every day if the weather permits.”
Del was standing by the bedroom door listening to him, an odd look on his face. His baby hardly looked human, she was so small.
“Do you have any good white handkerchiefs, Del?” Dr. Well’s asked him.
“Yes, I got a dozen for Christmas,” Del said, he opened the top drawer of his dresser.
“You can use them for diapers. You won’t have to cut up the real ones, you’ll need them later on,” Dr. Wells said.
“You’ll need to change her diaper every time you feed her; try not to let her get a rash. Her skin is very thin and fragile. I’ll leave this bottle of lanolin lotion for you. Don’t use soap on her yet.” The good doctor put the bottle on the bedside table.
“Will she live?” Imogene asked. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“I think so, if she’s still here in the morning, she’ll have a fair chance. Awful tiny though, I can’t tell how strong her lungs are yet. Let her cry for a couple minutes every now and then, that helps her lungs take in more air and get stronger. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he said. He patted Imogene’s arm.
At the kitchen door he put his coat on, pulled his fur hat down over his ears and wound his wool scarf around his neck. He formed his calfskin gloves over his fingers, then opened the door.
“How much do I owe you, Doc,” Del asked. He pulled his coat and hat on and followed him out the door.
“How about a dollar,” the doctor said. He still wasn’t sure if the baby would live, and there might be funeral expenses.
Del handed the kind man a one dollar bill, and thanked him as he walked him out to the barn. Del had given Doc’s horse some water, and put a pile of hay within his reach, while Doc tended to Imogene. He opened both barn doors and held them wide while the doctor coaxed his horse out into the cold.
“Clear as a bell out here, probably going to get even colder before morning,” Del said shivering.
“Yup, nice moon though, shouldn’t have any trouble seeing my way home. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, they’ll both be alright 'til then,” he called. He slapped the reins against the horses rump.
“Thanks again, Doc,” Del called after him. His words came out in foggy puffs; he closed the barn doors and went back into his nice warm house.
He immediately went to the bedroom. “Can I get you anything, Em?” he asked. He always called her Em, his term of endearment; he never called her Imogene.
“I’m hungry. Maybe you could make me some toast with jam and a cup of tea?” she asked. “Then I think I’ll sleep until Alice wakes up.”
“You can call her Alice if you want to, but I’m going to call her Dolly; she only cost me a one dollar bill. That’s all the good Doc charged us tonight,” he said. He kissed her forehead. “Then I’ll have a Molly and a Dolly,” he chuckled as he left the room.
~~~~~~
Now, a week later, Imogene was sitting in the kitchen rocking chair, feeding Alice when Del came in from doing his morning chores.
“You feeling better today, Em?” he asked. He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head.
“Yes, just tired,” she replied, smiling up at him.
“Im going to make bacon and eggs for Molly and me. You want some?” he asked.
“Yes, that sounds good. But would you please heat up the hot water bottle for me first?” she asked. She lifted herself up off the chair a little and pulled it out from under her and handed it to him. The bruise on her backside was turning yellow and purple now, but it was still very sore.
Alice was going to make it; she was a determined baby and was getting a little bigger every day. She opened her deep blue eyes now whenever she was picked up, and wiggled quite a bit when she had her diaper changed; she would live!
~~~~~
Later that year Delmont Irving Wheeler and Imogene Sadie Moser Wheeler bought a small farm in Bartonsville, Vermont. Alice “Dolly” Helen Wheeler, grew into a feisty little girl there. The only thing that held her back was the lack of hearing in her left ear. She had the same affliction that her father had.
When Dolly was five, Imogene and Del Wheeler had a son. They named him Rowland Delmont Wheeler, Del nicknamed him Jimmy. Jimmy also had a hearing problem.
Delmont died when Dolly was twelve. Imogene sold their farm and moved her family to an apartment in Bellows Falls, Vermont. She went to work at the Green Mountain Railroad Station Restaurant as a breakfast cook.
Molly married Sumner Hurd when she was 16. They had 11 children.
Dolly married Freddie Emery Blish when she was 18. They had 7 children.
Jimmy married Alice Daniels, they had 3 children.
Alice “Dolly” Helen Wheeler Blish passed away on April 27, 2002 at age 82 in Springfield, Vermont. She is buried there beside her husband in the Oakland Cemetery.
By Patricia B. Gould, Alice’s only daughter
Copyright 2008