Emanuel Hospital in Portland, Oregon will celebrate its 100th anniversary this year. Ask a native Portlander where they were born and chances are they will say "Emanuel." That's because from the 1930s to the 1960s, one of every three babies born in the city wailed their way into the world at Emanuel Hospital. I was one of those babies. World War II was just coming to an end when I was born on August 10, 1945. My mother called me her VJ baby and named me Verna Jean.
Although I have no recollection of my arrival at Emanuel, I vividly recall the day when I returned twenty-six years later. I had no labor pains and walked into the hospital accompanied by my mother. My husband was unable to get off work, but it seemed only fitting that my mother and I would make the return trip together. We were greeted by a nurse who, after verifying our identities, led us to a small room to wait for the delivery. A few minutes later, she returned with the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. Our daughter, Maryanne, had been born three days earlier on October 10, 1971 and officially became ours when her adoption was finalized. On this Mother's Day and always, I will remember Emanuel as the hospital where two wonderful dreams were fulfilled.
Although I have no recollection of my arrival at Emanuel, I vividly recall the day when I returned twenty-six years later. I had no labor pains and walked into the hospital accompanied by my mother. My husband was unable to get off work, but it seemed only fitting that my mother and I would make the return trip together. We were greeted by a nurse who, after verifying our identities, led us to a small room to wait for the delivery. A few minutes later, she returned with the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. Our daughter, Maryanne, had been born three days earlier on October 10, 1971 and officially became ours when her adoption was finalized. On this Mother's Day and always, I will remember Emanuel as the hospital where two wonderful dreams were fulfilled.
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