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Author’s Two Babies
One aspect of writing a memoir is to show how your main character, YOU, has changed over time. What events or situations caused that change? Did the change happen slowly over many years or was it quick? These changes are but a few of the highly emotional events in the memoir writer’s life that she must re-visit if she is to tell a story of growth and overcoming obstacles.
This excerpt from my memoir A Southern Belle in Paris, zeros in on what the cost of ignorance can be and it most certainly isn’t bliss!
From a sexual predatory situation to the consequences of atomic testing done in the remote region we called home…. these and other changes shimmied across the landscape of my world like stones skipping across a lake, or in this case, across an ocean!
Today’s Excerpt from A Southern Belle in Paris:
RADIOACTIVE FALLOUT
First Atomic Test Bikini Atoll
An Army ambulance met us on the tarmac at a military airfield on Oahu. I had just flown in on a C-47 military transport plane with my 6-month-old baby on an emergency evacuation flight from Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands. Several enlisted men gathered luggage, me and baby Marie, rushing us to Tripler Army Hospital where a medical team of specialists were waiting to see her. “She’ll be placed in isolation until we can find out what’s wrong,” a brusque young pediatrician informed me as the team began their initial examination.
“We’ve arranged for you to have a room on the floor near the children’s ward so you can visit and have time with your daughter while we do a battery of tests to find out what she may be allergic to,” he continued.
As he took Marie from my arms, now crying and frantically struggling for each breath, his arms brushed against my breasts and as I caught his glance, I saw that his mouth was curled into a grin. Startled, I pulled back in disbelief but wasn’t sure how to respond to his disrespectful, inappropriate behavior and flirtatious stares that continued throughout the examination. My Southern Belle upbringing had prepared me to smile and be nice no matter the situation. But how was I supposed to be nice to a man who should be focusing on my baby, not flirting with me? A woman standing up for herself, speaking out, defending herself whether justified or not, didn’t exist in the world I’d been raised in. That was the man’s job ,,, to protect the woman. I gave the offending doctor a scowling look but said nothing.
Fatigued but relieved when the initial medical exam was completed, I left baby Marie with the medical staff and followed one of the enlisted men who showed me to my room. He’d driven the ambulance that had picked us up at the airport and was about my age, early twenties, friendly and kind, something I needed very badly since communication with Kwajalein Island was only possible by ham-radio. No phones and of course no Internet. The young soldier seemed to sense my terror, maybe he’d seen combat, he never said, but he made it a point to check in on me regularly throughout my hospital stay and I was very grateful for his friendship.
I fretted about not being able to share what was going on with my husband and felt alone in the scary situation with our baby daughter. I knew I needed to keep it together for her sake, but I was terrified. She was so sick, had lost a great deal of weight and no one knew why. Her struggles with breathing had become so acute in the last few months that we’d taken her to the island clinic numerous times where they would place her in an oxygen tent to help her breathe. “We’ve done everything we can here on island,” the doctor had told us. I’m ordering an emergency air evacuation for you to take her to Oahu.”
Built on a ridge overlooking Honolulu, the pink-colored Tripler Army Hospital, the largest treatment facility in the Pacific Rim, was situated only a short distance from the beautiful Waikiki Beach. There was an empty hospital wing near my room that had a lanai with a view of the beach in the distance. I’d often go and recline on one of the chaise lounges, to relax in between visits with baby Marie who was gradually improving once she’d stopped nursing and was put on a soy-based formula.
My breasts ached from having stopped nursing so suddenly even though I was taking several hot showers a day for relief. How was it possible that my baby could be allergic to my milk? It just didn’t make any sense.
As I looked out onto the beautiful Waikiki beach in the distance, I remembered how I had desperately wanted to leave home my entire four years of high school, had wanted to be grown up and be out on my own, making my own decisions, but now I had been married for two years, had birthed two babies, and life at age twenty-one was coming at me fast and furious and I was struggling to keep up. I was so happy I had married an older man; someone mature who knew so much about the world, and someone I could lean on. Remembering how we’d met and overcome all the drama resulting from our cultural and religious differences was reassuring. But it all seemed like decades ago.
Suddenly, I was startled to see the offending pediatrician walk through the door onto the lanai. How had he discovered my secret retreat space?
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, horrified that he had walked in on me all alone.
“I work here as you may know,” he answered sarcastically. “Seriously, I just wanted to check on you.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Now you can go, please.”
“Why are you being so unfriendly to me,” he asked defensively, as though I had wronged him.
“Look, I think you know you behaved inappropriately during my baby’s first check-up and you’ve been flirting with me ever since then. You should be apologizing to me.” I said as firmly as possible, getting up and walking over to the railing along the lanai to put some distance between us. He followed and stood next to me.
“Yes. You’re right and I apologize. Now can we be friends?”
“Friends? I don’t even know you. My only concern is that you take care of my baby.” He moved his body closer until it was touching mine.
“Please don’t stand so close. You’re making me nervous,” I pleaded in my most pleasant Southern Belle lady-like manner, while moving away again. Though I imagined myself to be an adult possessing a certain amount of maturity and sophistication; in truth I was a bona fide Southern Belle, thoroughly trained in the feminine arts of “make nice” at all times, be pleasant in your demeanor and conversation, whatever the situation. Nothing in this training helped a young girl respect herself, or consider her own needs or give her any confidence to function successfully in the world without a man at her side. Like the young heroine Scarlet O’Hara in the classic novel Gone With the Wind, had advised, a Southern young lady would have to learn to become a manipulator to get what she wanted or she would forever be a passive spectator to her life, never daring to challenge the rules for fear of the consequences.
“I find you extremely attractive,” he said, ignoring my request to move away from me.
I couldn’t believe his lack of respect and arrogance. “I’m leaving now,” I said.
As I turned to go, he grabbed me and kissed me directly on the mouth. Startled, I pulled away and without thinking, slapped him, stunning him and myself. I quickly ran from the lanai to my room.
Shaking, I locked the door behind me and threw myself on the bed, dissolving into tears. I wanted so desperately to talk to Saren, to have him reassure me that everything was going to be all right. I knew I had done nothing to encourage the doctor’s predatory behavior towards me. But all I could think about now was my baby regaining her health and getting back home.
What happens next? Are there any consequences for the doctor’s sexual misconduct? When does the phrase “radioactive fallout” enter the conversation or the awareness of past actions by the U.S. Military in the remote region that led to it becoming the world’s biggest super powers as well as the devastation and death to the Pacific islanders?
If you want a copy of A Southern Belle in Paris, place your order HERE
Do you have a copy of my writing workbooks?
Wild Women Write: Reconnecting with the Wild Feminine
Wild Women Write takes you to the core of your instinctual feminine essence by familiarizing you with tales & stories of women who walked in their power, providing archetypal models to reclaim & reconnect to that sacred place within ourselves that is both wild and powerful. Writing & art exercises help you to dive deep into your own unique self & to express what you find there!
Writes of Passage: Writing Through the Seasons of Your Life
Have you been wanting to write your memoir… tell your life story but don’t know where to start? Writes of Passage is the perfect book to help you get started. For each of the four phases of your life: childhood, young adult, mature adult, & elder, there are writing & art exercises that will give you all the material you’ll need to begin your memoir!
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Aloha! Marjorie