The Making of a Grandmother -- Part III

It wasn't long after my great grandmother died until there was a new mother in the house. The step mother was one to help run the household for the widower and his many children. But her ways were very different than their mother's had been. The adjustment to a different way of living was very difficult for my Grammie.  As the eldest daughter she was accustomed to working alongside her mother and taking responsibility. She was able to make quick and wise decisions -- even as a 15-year-old. 

Sadly, what had once brought joy turned to drudgery. In her heart, Grammie really felt that her step mother had no affection for the children under her care. She could see how her younger siblings who were once nurtured in their mother's tender care were bewildered in a new and rigid life. 

The bereft teenager was unable to bear the hardship of being a Cinderella of sorts. She was expected to toil with no appreciation, no rewards, and no feelings of being loved and respected. All the stress and unhappiness at home hastened the planned marriage to a handsome, young well driller by the name of Watson. 

She was wed at the tender age of sixteen and began her life-long practice of taking the hurting and the needy into her care. As much as her father would allow, the young bride welcomed her little sister and her younger brothers into her home for visits. These times with their big sister were times of greatly needed respite for them. All of their lives they would say, "she was like a mother to me." How they loved her! 

Before she was twenty, my grandmother lost three babies. Each time it broke her heart. In that day before The Pill, cruel people -- sort of like Job's comforters -- would ask her why she was so upset. One person said to her, "the rest of us would be thrilled to have a miscarriage once in awhile. . ." Such cruelty tore at her heart. 

Finally, in 1922, after several months on bed rest, Grammie gave birth to her first child -- a girl. My mother was born on a February day. The doctor took his horse and sleigh up the stream and attended the birth. My grandmother told me that my mother was the most beautiful, red-headed baby. Later she had the freckles that her Irish genes assigned to her. Ultimately she gave birth to two more children -- a son and another daughter. How she loved her children, and what a wonderful Mamma she was. All three would tell you they had the best mother in all of the world. 

As the young couple -- my grandparents -- settled into life with their little children, The Great Depression loomed on the horizon.

--To be continued.