Reverend Jean Thoroughood delves into a bygone era of midwifery, where compassion and community played vital roles. Amidst the struggles and triumphs, her narrative prompts a reflection on the progress — or lack thereof — in Black maternal care. The legacy of midwives raises a poignant question: Have we truly evolved, or do echoes of the past still linger in today's maternal healthcare landscape?
Reverend Jean Thoroughood delves into a bygone era of midwifery, where compassion and community played vital roles. Amidst the struggles and triumphs, her narrative prompts a reflection on the progress — or lack thereof — in Black maternal care. The legacy of midwives raises a poignant question: Have we truly evolved, or do echoes of the past still linger in today's maternal healthcare landscape?
https://www.birthincolorrva.org/
Sweet, slow music
VO: In the Atlantic Park neighborhood–just northwest of Seatack was the home of one of our area’s Midwives. She was a lifeline for her community. In the 40’s and 50’s–if you were Black and pregnant, you probably asked for her.
Jean Thoroughood: Her name was Ethel Parker, but very well known in this area. And, um, people after, long after she was gone, and they still talk about her today. One gentleman I will never forget, he saw me in the grocery store and he told me, he said, "I remember your grandmother."
Music fades out
He said, "You look so much like your grandmother." I said, “Well, thank you. I take it as a compliment." And he said, he said, 'Cause I remember when she delivered all seven of his children, he said he did not have food in his refrigerator. And he was on his seventh baby, right then he said, but when he got up the next morning, she had went to the store and bought all these groceries, left them on her step and that, and for the whole family, you know, and those are the little things that she used to do, you know, for the people.
She would, she would feed them. She was, um, uh, a hospitality extraordinaire.
Nichole Hill: That is Reverend Jean Thoroughood. She’s Ethel’s granddaughter. She grew up shadowing her grandmother and learning how to deliver babies.
There were not many Black midwives at that time and so Ethel and her young apprentice Jean were kept very busy.
Jean Thoroughood: I've gone with her when she delivered babies. She never let me in the room, but I was actually there.
And so I would go out and I would sit and I would make sure that she has everything in her bag. And she said, make sure that you got, oh, I, I got my scissors. I got this. I have all these things that we need when the baby comes, make sure she has her white uniform, and I'll wear something white and she would have on her white shoes, and that's the way she went.
And she delivered babies. And so I would sit there and I hear the cry, and then she would come out and she would let me hold the baby. And I'll be the first one to hold the baby. She would let me some time– I've watched her cut the cord. She allowed me to wash him up and clean them up and, and do all that with her standing right there.
sound transition: newborn baby coos
Jean Thoroughood: Our home, was a home of a midwife, and I was born in that house. My sister was born in that house. I have cousins that was born in that house. Many people were born in that house. The house still stands today. People would come, I have a cousin that lived in Norfolk and they would come down to have babies
Nichole Hill: Highway 264 which connects Nfk to Ethel’s home wasn’t constructed until 1970. For years pregnant women traveled along dirt roads to get to Ethel’s and deliver their babies at her house.
Jean Thoroughood: And so we get the room together and there was one room that specifically she used to deliver babies. And I was right there with her doing all of that. And I treasure all of those because I actually, nobody had to tell it to me.
I truly had the opportunity to live it. To live it. I lived it. And that means so much to me.
Slow, zylaphone music
Jean Thoroughgood: Hospitalwise, there was one hospital, in what we call now Virginia Beach. It was on 25th St. down the beach. uh, but it was not open to us. Most of the babies during that time were done by midwives.
Nichole Hill: The only hospital that would deliver the babies of expectant Black mothers was Norfolk Community Hospital. The quote unquote Black hospital.
Eventually, in 1966, hospitals were desegregated but even then, they were a far cry from welcoming.
Jean Thoroughood: Uh, and then when Virginia Beach, it was Virginia Beach General as a matter of fact, and when they did open it up to allow them to come in, it was actually like they were down in the basement. You can go down in the basement, your baby can go up on it in the nursery, but you actually were, the mothers had to stay down in the basement.
I mean, the options were few. Years later, uh, they were able to go to the clinic.
Nichole Hill: But once the clinic and hospital became options, there were still some considerations. Cost. Trust. Dignity…
This led most women to choose Ethel.
She delivered anywhere from 75 to a hundred babies per year. Sometimes it was four and five, a month, sometimes three and four a week.
Jean Thoroughood: And I can remember a time where my grandmother and I shared the bedroom. And in the bedroom there was a bassinet that was next to my bed. 'cause I had that duty. Okay? And then there was another bassinet beside my grandmother's bed, because she had that duty. And then one Christmas my sister and I got miniature dollbaby cribs.
And after we outgrew those, they were put in the attic. And when people would come to have babies, they actually used that little crib toy. During that time, they had to stay there for a week. They had to stay there for a week and then we had to, we had to make sure that they ate and make sure we took care of 'em.
And I was help taking care of the baby. I was changing, I've been changing babies, since I was like nine years old. And I was– she would let me feed the baby. She showed me how to, uh, mix the formulas and, during that time, if they were not breastfeeding, there was a milk. Are you familiar with carnation milk?
You familiar with patent milk? That was the milk, but you had to make sure you had the right consistency of it. You had to had the right, uh, milk and the right, boil the water and Caro syrup.
Sound of water heating up, followed by bottles being washed
Jean Thoroughood: That's how you did. And then you had to sterilize the bottles because you had to sterilizer on the stove, put the bottles in there, and then fill the bottles and then sit 'em on the side and so they can cool.
Make sure they had the nipple. On the inside of the bottle, there was not, nipples don't sit on the outside. On the inside there was a little cap with it. You take 'em, you put 'em in the refrigerator. And that was a--We had so many bottles in the house one time, and I'm telling you, everybody had bottles! I remember there had been times when we've had more than one person in the house at a time and make sure those bottles belongs to baby over on this side. And we never, uh, had 'em in the same place. The house only had one bathroom.
Sound of boiling water, washing dishes
VO: Ethel charged $35-40 for a delivery if you could pay. If not, she still helped. She did still have to pay for groceries though and care for her own family though. So, in addition to being her community’s midwife she also had a day job.
Jean Thoroughood: And also she was a cook. There was this place, it was called the Ocean Air Rest Home, and that ocean air rest home was a place for alcoholics, and she actually worked there from seven in the morning to seven in the evening. Preparing their breakfast, lunch, and their dinner. And that's, that's basically what she did on that part, other than doing private duty nursing when she was still doing that as well.
So mostly I only remember my grandmother even working in that facility or delivering babies. I don't remember her ever doing anything else other than that.
MUSIC, baby sounds
Jean Thoroughood: My husband is the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
We attended the same church years ago, we went to high school together and all of that. He didn't look my way and I didn't look his. And we never even thought about it until I got, I guess I was about 35 years old and he was like 35 years old and that's when we started dating. But the thing about it is my grandmother and his mother were the best of friends.
His mother had nine children and my grandmother delivered all nine of 'em, including him.
I have his birth certificate at my house too, and her name is on his birth certificate.
People know me today. Aren’t you, Ethel’s Parker's granddaughter. Yes I am.
She taught me how to serve. She taught me how to be a servant. You know, we take life lessons for granted, but those lessons are given to us for a reason because those same life lessons that my grandmother gave me, I'm giving those to my grandchildren right now.
Nichole Hill: Jean got to have an apprenticeship like no other. She had what must have felt like the equivalent of a MD in maternal fetal care by the age of 12. The care that Ethel gave and Jean grew up on seems hard to find today. And that sense of purpose Jean felt as a preteen from serving her community, seems equally hard to come by.
If you are interested in supporting health equity for Black women, visit our website Truthbetoldcommunity.com to find out ways to get involved, and share this episode with friends.
This series was written by Jackie Glass and Hannah Sobol, edited and hosted by me, Nichole Hill, Sound Design by Trendel Lightburn, and our work has been supported by the Virginia African American Cultural Center through a grant from Virginia Tourism Corporation. Follow our work by subscribing wherever you get your podcasts. We couldn’t do this without people brave enough to share their experiences, so thank you Rev. Thoroughgood!