When I was a little kid, I loved babies more than anything, so I couldn’t believe my good luck when I was walking home from school one afternoon and saw a teenage neighbor sitting on her front porch with a tiny new baby wrapped snugly in a pale blue blanket. She let me peek at it, and it curled its tiny fingers around my finger. I couldn't wait to tell my mother about it.
"Guess what?" I said when I reached our own back porch, “That kid who lives on the corner of Van Ness Street has a new baby. It's a boy.” My mother (Mum) didn’t look surprised. I know now that she had heard all about that child.
“Please, could we have a baby?” I begged. Mum looked startled. "I'll take good care of it," I promised. "You won't have to do anything. It can sleep in my room." I had a vision of a soft cuddly baby, round and rosy-cheeked like the picture of Baby Jesus that hung in the front of my classroom. Still, I hoped it would be a girl. I decided that I'd name it Andrea Doria after the ship that recently sank in the Atlantic.
Mum said, "We'll talk about it later,"
"Why can't we have a baby?" I wasn’t being bratty. I just didn’t want to lose my chance to persuade her that having a baby was a great idea. "What's wrong with us having a baby?"
"Nothing's wrong," she said, "except that I'm not as young as when I had you." I began to suspect that no matter how much I wanted us to have a new baby (and how good my arguments were) Mum's mind was made up. "God sends babies to young people.” She said. “I'm 42. That's too old to have a baby." Forty-two was very old, so I couldn't argue that point.
"Well, what about Sandy?" I asked. My sister ,Sandy, was the same age as the kid up on Van Ness Street with the new baby. They were both 16. Mum looked startled. "Sandy isn't married," she said. “I know.” I said. I couldn't, imagine what new objection she was going to raise, but I’d be ready for it.
Mum said, "God sends babies to married people so that they can be a family." Now, I knew our neighbor was not married. She lived with her parents, but Mum was not even taking that into account. Mum just didn’t want to have a new baby around the house even if I was in charge of it. Mum said she didn't have time to talk about babies, anymore and that was that. She opened the refrigerator, took out a bunch of carrots, turned on the radio, and began peeling the stupid carrots.
I just sat there thinking that I’d never get a baby to take care of and play with. Then all at once it came to me, and I wondered how I could have been so dumb. I felt like knocking myself on the side of the head for being so thick.
God sent that kid on Van Ness Street a baby even though she wasn't married. I was in a Catholic school, so I knew about miracles. There was no doubt about it and I had just stumbled on one. I was really happy and suddenly got a great idea. I got some paper, rummaged around and found some crayons, took them to my room, and began to write. My letter to God was pretty easy because I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but It took forever to decorate the page with tiny baby bottles and rainbows. When I finished, I checked to see if I left anything out.
Dear God,
You sure were nice to send that new baby up the street. PLEZE, give one to Sandy. She deserves it. If you do, I'll do anything you want. Send it soon. I'll take good care of it. If you can -- Make it a girl.
Love Your Frend
Betty Lou Irwin
XO XO XO
I folded the note until it was nice and small and wrote "PRIVATE" on the outside, then I looked around my bedroom for a good place to hide it. The statue of the Infant of Prague smiled down from the top of the bureau, and I smiled back. His face, hands, and feet were painted and glazed, but the rest of His body was white, unglazed plaster. He wore a white gown and red satin cape with a big stand-up collar and He had a stiff, clear plastic dust cover edged in gold rick-rack. Every now and then, when I got sick of playing with my dolls, I’d carefully dress and undress Him. Mum warned me that I’d drop Him and break Jesus’ neck. Anyway, I slipped the letter under His dress, carefully tied the cape around His neck and lowered the plastic cover over His head. I was very reverent since I thought it might help my cause. I wanted that baby in a big way! I pushed the Infant back to the middle of the dresser, knelt down, bowed my head, and made the sign of the cross.
An aside:
My friend, Nancy (I forget her last name after all these years) told me that if you said 1,000 Hail Marys, you'd get anything you prayed for. Nancy wanted a bike, and neither one of us was surprised when after saying her 1,000 Hail Marys, she got a beautiful red Schwinn from her parents. I was willing to do whatever it took to make the miracle happen to Sandy. So, (even though it wasn't Christmas) I began my 1,000 prayers. I can still remember how pleased I was when I heard the sound of Sandy’s schoolbooks as she dropped them on the kitchen table a few minutes later. I still smile when I think about it. I loved Sandy more than anyone and I couldn't wait until the day I could tell her I was the one who prayed for the miracle to happen to her. Until then, I wouldn't tell a soul.
Sandy was in her 50s, married, and with three kids (and now two grandchildren) before I told her the plan. I’ll bet a 16-year-old wouldn’t have let her 9-year-old sister raise Baby Andrea Doria anyway – and we sure know Mum wouldn’t do it! I never finished the 1,000 Hail Mary’s. It’s a quick prayer to recite especially when you get past the first 75, but 1,000 is an awful lot.
July 25th 1956. At 11:10 p.m., the Andrea Doria and Stockholm, collided near Nantucket, Massachusetts. Anthony Grillo, who now sadly has passed away, wrote, "I was three years old when my mother dropped me from the side of the Andrea Doria and I landed in a blanket on a waiting lifeboat. Over the years I would look at the scrapbook of pictures and read and re-read Alvin Moscow's book, Collision Course. My mother and I would mark the anniversary of the sinking by remembering the day it happened."