Holy — 6 August 1981

I remember thinking that morning that Jack was considerably more nervous than I was, although he would deny it until his dying day. Then Holy arrived, opened those enormous eyes, and just stared at me like she had been waiting nine months to finally see who was responsible for all this. She barely fussed. I held her against me and thought, Well, there you are. You’re ours. I don’t think anything before that moment had ever frightened me and made me that happy at exactly the same time.

Giverny — 11 October 1982

Giverny took her sweet time. At some point I told Jack that if this child didn’t make up her mind soon, I was going home without her. He informed me that wasn’t how childbirth worked, which was not useful information at the time. When she finally arrived, she was wide awake almost immediately—looking from me to the nurse to the lights and back again as though she had questions about the entire arrangement. I remember telling her, Honey, I don’t have the answers either. We just got here.

Fulmala — 7 February 1984

Fulmala was different from the first minute. Calm. Not sleepy—calm. She cried when she had reason to and stopped when the matter had been addressed. The nurse remarked that she seemed unusually content, and I remember looking down at her and saying, Don’t brag on her yet. She’s a Schitt; give her time. She wrapped her whole hand around one of my fingers and held on with surprising determination. I think that was the first hint that gentle and weak were never going to mean the same thing with that child.

Buland — 29 November 1985

OH LORD, THAT BOY WAS LOUD. Buland didn’t announce his arrival; he filed a complaint about it. One of the nurses laughed and said his lungs were certainly healthy, and I told her that was wonderful news because apparently the entire hospital needed to know. Then they fed him. And fed him again. I remember asking, Are you sure we’re supposed to keep doing that? This child eats like a horse. Jack just looked at him and said, “He’s growing.” He’d been alive a matter of hours. I told Jack we’d better hope he slowed down before we had to buy livestock feed.

Deppa — 2 August 1987

With twins, everybody kept telling me to expect chaos. Deppa arrived first, and for one very brief moment there was this strange quiet where I thought, There she is. Then everything started moving again because, of course, we weren’t finished. I remember somebody asking her name and I said Deppa Aster. Jack looked at me. The nurse looked at me. I looked right back at both of them. That’s her name. She had already been through enough that day without having to defend it.

Dimple — 2 August 1987

Then came Dimple, four minutes behind his sister, and the first thing I noticed once I could actually look at him was his hair. Fine as anything, but curly. I touched it and asked Jack, Where in the world did THAT come from? Jack said something about babies changing as they grow, which again was not an answer to the question I had asked. Dimple settled against me afterward looking entirely pleased with himself, while his sister had already made her opinions known. I remember staring at the two of them and thinking, Six children. We have six children. Then I looked at Jack and said, “We’re done.” I don’t recall asking for his opinion.

ARCHIVE NOTE
These recollections are attributed to Noe Schitt and appear to have been recorded considerably later than the events described. Dates correspond with surviving family records.

Noe has declined requests to clarify which portions Jack remembers differently.