Writings by Susan Dickinson

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H bMS Am 1118.95, Box 9


was making of a crying child and thus[?]
beat about for another monthly nurse with
rather a timorous heart. To-day your wise doctor
telephones somewhere, and presto, your special
kind of nurse is at your door - you have
simply to accept her skill + pay her price -
But that was earlier in the century than now
so with a tired body from loss of sleep and
hard labor, for testify old-fashioned Mothers
is there any labor harder than taking care of
a young, dead weight baby, before his mind
and other faculties give him motive power?
I set out for another monthly nurse
whose safe care would insure life and
hope to my baby. There were fewer foreigners
about us than now, but no nurses serve
among the American type. These were too
sensitive to last, not inspired enough
to glorify service and so my search was
long and disappointing - one nurse went
out in August - another was just home
and tired. Still another would come
but wanted to "get her sewing done up
again" was "daily expectatin to be called"

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Writings by Susan Dickinson Main Page
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Transcription and commentary copyright 1998 by Martha Nell Smith,
Laura Elyn Lauth, and Lara Vetter, all rights reserved
Maintained by Rebecca Mooney  <rnmooney@umd.edu>
Last updated on January 24, 2008

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