My third daughter was born to us during a return to college for me, more than 25 years ago now, at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks.
She went to class with me many times and charmed everyone; nobody ever said a negative word, traditional-aged students opened doors for us when we used the stroller, and it was a joy all the way around. She went along with me to the computer lab when I had computer work to do there. That was before personal computers were all that common and beyond the budgets of most of us student-parents. My months-old baby never caused a disturbance although she did get plenty of attention.
At the time I was working for Student Government. We were nursing and there were times I needed to pump milk both for later use and for my own comfort. Nobody so much as gave me a funny look when I would suddenly stop what I was doing to take a break because I needed to 'express myself'.
Thinking back, the experience was a lot more special than I realized at the time.
The early months of that pregnancy were risky, and there was a fire or some such at the Student Union where the Student Government offices were located.
My boss kicked me out of the Union until it was safe for me to come back (on both counts). The minutes of the Standing Committees still had to be transcribed, and it was my job to do it as I'd been the one to take the minutes in my own peculiar minute-taking way. They sent a computer home with my husband; I sat up in bed and worked.
The on line story that both of my youngest daughters shared has to do with a professor who, when a baby cried in class, simply picked up the little one and continued with class.
The memory it triggered has to do with my own crying baby, and college.
We weren't in class at the time. We were at the State Capitol in Bismarck for NDISL (North Dakota State Intercollegiate State Legislature) where I was a Representative for UND. The primary legislation I was co-presenting with one of UND's Student Senators had to do with the availability of quality affordable child care on North Dakota campuses (and in government facilities).
The bill was about to be voted on in the Senate when I was called out of the committee meeting I was in regarding other proposed legislation. My partner sent word that my own presence was required on the floor of the Senate immediately as our legislation was in danger of not passing.
My little daughter in my arms, I raced to get there in time. She was justifiably upset by my rush and began crying. Standing on the rotunda, I didn't know what to do. I had nobody to hold her while I went down to say my piece, and she was crying harder than ever.
So there I stood, expecting to see the legislation, which I had worked my tail off on, go down the tubes in front of my eyes. I couldn't go down there and try to say anything over the cries of my baby.
Needless to say, of all times for her to have chosen as her one and only time to disrupt things, it couldn't have been a worse choice. Not that she chose, mind you. It's just an expression.
I was about to join her tears when an older man walked up to us, smiled, and offered to hold my crying baby.
Taking her in his apparently experienced arms, he gave her a bounce or two, patted her backside, and smiled at me again.
'She'll be fine,' he said reassuringly. 'She just needs a change.'
When I went to take her back so as to go and change her, he smiled again.
'It won't hurt her to cry for a minute.'
When I gave him a puzzled look, he asked, nodding to the Floor of the Senate, 'Is that your piece of legislation they're voting on?'
Miserably, I could only nod, tears in my eyes.
'Let her cry,' he advised. 'Just for a minute more.'
And he was right.
It didn't hurt her to cry for a minute more.
Then I took her off to change her and nurse her.
There was nothing I could do or say at that point anyway. The vote got under way as soon as I took my crying baby from the rotunda so that the Senate could hear again. I didn't want to be there to watch it fail and took my time about getting back.
When I did, the older man was still standing there.
He grinned at me, reached out to hold my little daughter again, who was in a much more typical frame of mind now, and told me that the legislation had passed.
Nothing like a crying baby on the rotunda to present a convincing case for the need to have child care facilities on site.
One of the things about NDISL is the bills/resolutions that we got through both the House and the Senate got passed on to the regular State Legislature for consideration.
Child care facilities improved and/or were put into place in our state.
The older man who held my baby and let her cry for just one more minute?
He was the then-Governor of North Dakota, Governor Guy. I have to confess that I hadn't even recognized him. Had other things on my mind, I guess. Like a baby I really wanted to change and feed.
By the time that daughter was in high school she was tutoring younger students. Her educational degree(s) and certifications now qualify her to teach babies through the early grades; she has taught them well even as her own education continues.
lead photo clipart crying-babies130125.jpg, cropped
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