Saturday Snippets 11 May 2013 Mother’s Day Week-end Edition

A floral post-mortem photograph for someone's dear Mama.

A floral post-mortem photograph for someone’s dear Mama.

A selection of items on motherhood and babies in honour of the Mother’s Day Week-end.

“This baby will kill us all,” was the exclamation of a young mother, as she vainly tried to quiet the screams of her six weeks old son. And then came the question, “What do you do when a baby just cries incessantly? My nurse is sleeping now, for she was awake the entire night. Mamma is also completely exhausted, as night before last she volunteered to take charge of him, so as to give nurse and myself opportunity to sleep; and she told me for a fact she was unable to close her eyes until after five o’clock this morning. He is no better during the day. We three are busy our entire time, walking, jolting, rocking, feeding. One takes care of him until she is worn out, and the next, most rested, takes him, and as soon as my husband comes home, he takes his turn; even papa, with his gray hairs and mature age, has become baby tender, and does his best to rest our arms and see what his powers may be to soothe him. But it seems all to no purpose. This baby cries on and on, and is killing himself and killing us all. Hear him now. What do you suppose causes such constant cries? and what would you do to quiet him?”

“I would give him a little catnip tea,” was the calm response.

“We tried that, and it kept him still just one-half hour. To be sure, that was some relief, but there must be a cause.”

“Yes, I think the cause is colic pains. A little wind is probably swallowed with his food, and before this wind is gotten rid of more follows, and thus the poor child is in constant agony. I do not believe that crying causes wind, but wind causes crying, and the indigestion which precedes may be the cause of both. And not only is crying extremely wearisome, both to mother and child, but in the case of male children it is more or less injurious, owing to the peculiarities of the groin canals. Sometimes a teaspoonful of sweetened aniseed tea will start the wind, and soon this will be followed by complete relief. It is a simple remedy, and you need not fear any ill consequence arising from it. Or try a little sweetened gin and water, not too strong, or the child will strangle.”

“Well, I’ll give him that now,” said the mother.

She gave it to him, and in less than fifteen minutes the tired child was in a sound, healthful sleep, which, she afterwards told me, he did not awake from for four hours. Godey’s Lady’s Book, August 1890  [One immediately thinks of Edward Gorey’s unfortunate Zillah, who drank too much gin.]

THE EUREKA DIAPER.— This simple invention we desire to call attention to from the fact that it is, in our opinion, one that is going to create a revolution in the nursery. It is an article that will be of great benefit to those mothers and nurses who wish to pay proper attention to a child’s health. One of the causes that make a crying child is the use of pins in fastening its covering. Now, this article not only does away with the use of pins, but it protects the bedding and clothing. It is highly recommended by physicians. Sold by all the principal dry-goods stores in the United States. Godey’s Lady’s Book October, 1870 

Students of Dr. Moses M. Pallen, a member of an old Virginia family, who came to St. Louis in 1842, were given an impression of professional obligation which was far more than scientific. Dr. Pallen held the professorship of obstetrics for more than twenty years. He taught thousands of students “that the doctor when at the bedside of the woman in labor almost meets his God, and that duty, the stern daughter of God, must be evoked every moment and hour in her travail. Give your strength to the laboring mother. Fill her with hope: it may be light diet but it will be very stimulating; it awakens courage. If the doctor ever is at the service of any one he must be at the absolute service of the lying-in woman. Be thoughtful of her in her agony of pain. Encouragement is everything. It well becomes God’s most exalted creature. To relieve distress is not only human but it is Godlike; and thrice blessed is that man who relieves a single maternal pain.” That was the character of Dr. Pallen’s teaching as one of his pupils. Dr. Warren B. Outten, described it long years after his own graduation. ST. LOUIS: The Fourth City 1764-1909, Walter B. Stevens, 1909  

Mrs. J.B. McCrum, residing at Kalamazoo, Mich., is the mother of twins so small that they are a marvel of humanity, putting in the shade all stories of Lilliputians ever heard of. One is a boy and the other is a girl, and weigh, together, three pounds and four ounces. They are perfect, and seem to be in good health. Their bed is a little paper box, filled with cotton, and they are dressed in dolls’ clothes. The mother and children were doing well at last accounts. These twins are the smallest living children ever heard of. They take food naturally, and make a noise like very young kittens. A teacup will cover the head of either. Their hands are about the size of the bowl of a teaspoon, and their bodies less than six inches long— the boy a trifle the larger. Godey’s Lady’s Book, April 1874

Latest Fashion in Clothes and Children.

The small woman who fervently prayed that there might be no “best clothes” in heaven certainly ought not to be unhappy now, for even the best clothes are simple, and are made so that she can move and be happy in them. Silks, satins, laces and flummery on children are only evidences of the folly of their mothers, for the wisest and wealthiest women dress their children in the simplest and plainest manner. You see, babies who quote Shakespeare at five, or who are looking for microbes at seven, are counted bad form, while those who dig in the sands for precious stones, or build houses that are washed away by the incoming waves, are the ones who are going to be healthy and wise. New York Sun. Repository [Canton, OH] 5 June 1891: p. 3  [plus ça change….]

Strange Occurrence At A Funeral.-— One of the strangest occurrences happened at the funeral of Michael Guthrie, who was accidentally killed the day previous on the Northwestern Railway, which we have ever been called upon to chronicle. The family of Mr. Guthrie, consisting of a wife and three children, had made extensive arrangements for the accommodation of the friends of the deceased at the funeral. A large number of carriages and a numerous assembly of mourners were present when the undertaker, Mr. Berry, arrived with the hearse. About the same time another carriage, containing a woman richly and fashionably dressed, was driven to the door. The woman alighted, and entered the house. To the astonishment of the assembly, to all of whom she was a total stranger, she greeted the children of Guthrie as her own, and they in turn addressed her as their mother, manifesting the greatest joy, mingled with surprise, at seeing her. The wife, on the other hand, was confounded. She knew not what to say or what to think of this sudden and strange appearance of one who claimed also to be the wife of the deceased and who was addressed by his children as their mother. She knew herself to be their stepmother, having been married to their father in due legal form and in the full confidence that his first wife was dead. This supposition being now overthrown by the sudden appearance of one claiming to be that deceased wife, the other wife began to upbraid the children for not telling her that their mother was living. The real mother (for such the stranger was) assured her that the children were not to blame, as they, as well as their father, had reason to believe her dead. She had deserted her husband in the city of St. Louis, where they lived, and shortly afterwards caused an announcement of her death to be published in the newspapers of that city. But she was not dead. Leaving St. Louis, she had lived in Chicago, not knowing that her husband was here until she saw the account of his death published in the papers yesterday morning. She had come to reclaim her children, and to behold for the last time on earth the form of their father.—Chicago Times. Francis Vincent Semi Annual Register 1860, January 12 

Baby’s Tooth Set in a Ring.

Among the most exclusive of New York’s smart young matrons it is at present quite the proper thing to wear a ring fashioned as indicated in the above headline. The woman who first wore on these mysterious rings told all about it the other day to a girl friend, who was admiring it and wanted to copy it. She said:

“Why the little white stone wouldn’t be considered a gem to any one but me. It is only one of my baby girl’s pearly white teeth. She knocked out a little front tooth not long ago, and, as it was too precious for me to throw away, I took it to my jeweler and asked him if it couldn’t be set in a ring. And here is the result. I told him to surmount the tooth with diamonds and turquoises, alternating with one another, as I think just the touch of blue adds much to the beauty of the ring. The baby tooth encircled with diamonds looks too white. A number of my friends who have copied my idea have taken one of their baby’s teeth to the jeweler’s and had it surrounded with the child’s birth stones.”  Trenton [NJ] Evening Times 9 April 1899: p. 7

 

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

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4 thoughts on “Saturday Snippets 11 May 2013 Mother’s Day Week-end Edition

  1. Ruth

    i was reading this a couple of weeks late and had to laugh. My two oldest children had horrible colic, and no remedy seemed to work! My oldest cried night and day for two weeks before I gave up and called the pediatrician. (She also threw up bottlefuls on my back several times!) It was a simple milk allergy and we switched her to soy formula immediately. The first night after that she slept through and I was awake poking at her every couple of hours to make sure she was okay. When my son started showing the same symptoms we switched him to it right away. The funniest thing was what we used to help the colic afterwards. My MIL suggested a drop of whiskey, a spoonful of sugar and a bottle of warm water, worked like a charm. It would put my daughter right out and my son would belch hugely, giggle, and want to play. I would at least get some sleep when they were babies.

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    1. chriswoodyard Post author

      Alcohol- (and opiate-) laced tonics were standard child-rearing aids for the 19th and early 20th century. Mrs Daffodil has also seen relatively recent recommendations to rub whiskey on the gums of distressed teething infants. We applaud any colic-ridden mother for having the strength of character to refrain from throwing her offspring out of the window. If a drop of whiskey makes the melee go down, who is Mrs Daffodil to cavil? Please do not report Mrs Daffodil to the Mumsnet police for saying so…

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  2. Ruth

    I’ve read about those tonics, and probably would have used one out of desperation at times!! Sleep deprivation and a screaming baby in pain are no fun. Makes you understand a lot more those poor mothers who suffer from Post-partum Depression. My first baby was the practice baby, unfortunately. Everything from colic to ear infections (those were fun too) to being pinned to her diaper one time. At least she turned out okay and has two lovely children now.

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  3. Pingback: “After twenty years I have seen her”: A ghost story for Mother’s Day: 1885 | Mrs Daffodil Digresses

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