New Moms Embrace Life and Dream of a Better World for Their Babies

It’s dreary out; rain is falling sporadically along the commercial route to St. Peter’s Medical Center. Hospitals, too, are often dismal--uncomfortable places full of sickness and death.

But up on the fourth floor, none of this is on the agenda. Men, grinning nervously, trail their laboring wives with cups full of ice. And everywhere, small pink bundles of new life squirm, gurgle and, occasionally, squall.

More babies are delivered at St. Peter’s each year than almost anyplace in the United States. The hospital is renowned among medical professionals for its expert newborn care. But the nearly 6,000 women who check out each year remember it mostly as the place where it all starts.

Motherhood.

Awesome. Fearsome. Full of intrigue and boundless dreams. A new child represents hope, and the all the potential of an enormous canvas that has not yet been splotched with a single color.

During these first days, several mothers took the opportunity to sit back and contemplate the world that awaits their new babies.

They aren’t “remarkable” moms. They don’t plan on making headlines; they aren’t single, or teen-aged, drug-addicted, poor or particularly troubled.

With their husbands, they are simply trying to make their way among life’s roadblocks. Their concerns are common: child care, racism, violence, sexism. They imagine a safe and open world--one in which their children will feel welcome.

Ilene Davidson and Brianna

“I hope Brianna will be an aspiring woman in the world. I know how difficult it can be,” says Ilene Davidson, balancing her 7-pound-10-ounce daughter on her belly.

She is stretched out in Room 36, a freckle-faced blonde. Her hair looks amazingly good and she wears an open, engaging smile. She doesn’t hold back, although she is bashful when the tears start to flow.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “but my hormones are a mess.”

So much emotion, so many physical changes in these first days. Davidson has done this before. She’s the mother of Justin, a rambunctious 4-year-old. But having a daughter is different.

“Somehow it seems like boys and men make do in this world. Women have to struggle a little harder,” says Davidson, 32. “But my mother wanted me to have a daughter so I would feel what she has felt: very, very close.”

Widowed young, Davidson’s mother reared her children alone. She was always there for Ilene and her sisters, always made time for dinner together, for sharing secrets and dreams.

“She is so demonstrative, full of caring love. If anybody ever said anything about one of her daughters, she got her back right up,” Davidson says. “I absolutely believe in equal rights, and I want my daughter to feel the same way.”

Being there, Davidson firmly believes, is half the battle. So her husband, a fire marshal, is working three jobs. And she has given up work at a day care center near their home in Dayton, N.J.

“There are so many women who are not fortunate enough to be able to stay at home. I saw it in my child-care business every day. It’s so hard on parents. It rips them apart,” Davidson says.

“I’m thankful that I’m lucky. I had a choice. Somehow, somewhere, somebody needs to provide for a choice. We’ve got to find a way to provide financial assistance to parents--moms or dads--who want to stay home.”

Eva Gondor-Feher and Paul

At 46, Eva Gondor-Feher’s face is more deeply lined than those of the younger mothers on the ward. But beyond her age, she is remarkable for her tenacity.

“I tried very hard to get pregnant,” she says. Her first husband didn’t want children; she lied to him and tried to get pregnant anyway. But nothing seemed to work. Doctors eventually told her she could not bear children.

She divorced, then married a man who welcomed the idea of fatherhood. Somehow, the impossible happened: They had a son, Peter, followed in April by a new playmate, baby Paul.

She likes boys, believes sons are easier to rear. But one thing nags at her: the state of the world and the wars they might be called on to fight.

“I heard from my parents about the destruction and pain, the loss. My father was exiled in Siberia. I don’t want my kids to see this kind of sadness in their lifetime,” says Gondor-Feher, an immigrant from Latin America.

Her elder son looks up, a little forlornly, with his huge eyes rimmed by long lashes. He knows her feelings on the subject. “I don’t think Peter likes it that Mom doesn’t let him play with (toy) guns,” she says.

“But I won’t let him play with those kinds of toys. I’d rather spend double on a Lego set. That’s something he can use to build. Guns destroy. I want my sons to build--contribute something--in this world.”

Margaret Allgood and Troy

Two-day-old Troy Allgood has some big shoes to fill. His dad is a hulking former football player well known around their hometown for his work with United Cerebral Palsy and anti-drug campaigns.

His dad is black, his mom white. The couple thought carefully before marrying. They knew that society is not always friendly to interracial unions, or to the children born of them.

“I have a lot of concerns about the world they’ll inherit,” says Margaret Allgood, who also has a 2-year-old daughter. “We talked a lot about interracial kids before we got married. We wanted to make sure we were strong enough and together enough to deal with whatever might come.”

Regardless, Allgood says, it takes a lot of guts to have kids today. She worries that her son will face pressure to be cool, act tough, act out.

“That’s why we’re going to do everything we can to protect him, bring him up with the right values,” says Allgood, 35. “You have to make all sorts of decisions for these little people. You want them to grow up right. You need to prepare them, and give them so much support.”

She’ll soon be going back to work as district sales manager for a leather goods company. It’s not exactly ideal, but for now it makes financial sense. It will also mean “juggling.” Three-fourths of women with children under 18 have to do it these days, guilt and conflict and all.

“My son! My son! We’re so excited about his future. Mommy and Daddy are doing everything they can to prepare for their children’s futures, so they’ll have everything they need: a good education and options in life.”

But, she says, the questions and doubts are always there: “Can you do it? Will they turn out all right? Can you do it? “

Maureen Sullivan and Meagan

Maureen Sullivan has no doubts. She’s tough. She’s got answers and opinions and a surfeit of strength. But the huge, mushy spot at her center still seeps through in a flash. All she has to do is think of Meagan.

“I’ll do whatever I have to to make her safe and happy and comfortable in the world,” says Sullivan, 32, who has another daughter, 2-year-old Erin. “My girls need to be educated and strong and they need to know what they’re up against out there.”

That’s no feminist philosophy, she’s quick to say. That’s simply reality.

The formula for strength, she believes, is family. And community. And, in her case, a moderate dose of Catholicism.

“I think the only way to correct the crime rate, the drug situations, a lot of the situations that come up, is to start at home. You know, these children today aren’t being taught values, right and wrong.”

It’s a huge commitment, which is why Sullivan and her husband were married 10 years before embarking on parenthood. She wanted no distraction, no competing priorities.

“For many years I wondered whether to have kids at all,” she says. “First, my career--I’m an office manager--was very important. Then I just wasn’t ready. Then there was always the excuse that we couldn’t afford it.”

Finally, though, the Sullivans got their house in order. If it meant her husband, a lumberyard operations supervisor, had to do a little construction on the side, fine. If it meant fewer meals out, less time alone, two hours instead of 15 minutes to do an errand, fine.

“We just pulled our marriage together and made the place for children,” Sullivan says. “And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. There’s nothing more important than having a baby.

“I have great hope for my child’s future. I hope she’s as happy as I am. And it’s easy, really. You don’t have to have a lot of material things or money in the bank. My kids can talk to me, have faith in me, believe in me and be my friend. These are the things that count. These are the things that make happiness.”