The Girls from Ames by Jeffrey Zaslow Read Free Book Online Page A

injuries, to talk to his son. Ambulances arrived, and some of Dr. McCormack’s medical colleagues sped in from Ames to offer their help. By the time they got there, Billy had been pronounced dead at the scene.
    A story about the accident ran on the front page of the next day’s Ames Daily Tribune . The top of the page was dominated by a photo of two horribly damaged cars smashed together. It was hard to tell which car was which, given all the twisted metal. The headline: “Accident Fatal to Ames Boy.”
    The story mentioned that tall cornstalks at the intersection were a factor, and that the boy in the other car was driving illegally. He had a school permit, allowing him to drive only on a direct route from his house to school. There was no explanation given for what the boy was doing on that rural road; the scene of the accident was about two hours from his home.
    The three younger McCormack children recovered, and Mrs. McCormack forced herself to focus her emotional energy on being grateful for that. Most of the time, she did not allow herself to feel guilty for switching seats with Billy just before the crash. Her reasoning was this: Had she died in the front seat, she would have left Dr. McCormack to raise all of their children alone. As she saw it, her life was spared because her surviving children needed a mother. And so the accident left her doubly committed to motherhood.
    At first, Dr. McCormack had great trouble coping with his son’s death. He asked that all photos of Billy be removed from the family room of their house; it hurt too much for him to look at them every day. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about Billy, either, and it upset him when well-intentioned people asked questions about his son or shared a memory of him. Years later, he’d become known in Iowa medical circles for his comforting bedside manner and his pioneering efforts to help people accept and live with loss. His hard journey to that role began with Billy’s death.
    All grieving families struggle to find relief from their pain, and at some point in the months after the accident, Dr. and Mrs. McCormack developed a sense of what might help them. Their family felt so terribly out of balance. Maybe their three surviving children needed another sibling. Maybe they needed another child to love. Dr. McCormack, then thirty-five years old, decided he would try to reverse his vasectomy.
    Marilyn and her father, Dr. McCormack

    Back then, such operations were primitive and usually didn’t work, but the decision to try gave Dr. McCormack a sense of purpose. In the summer of 1961, he flew to Rochester, New York, to have his first operation. It failed. In the spring of 1962, he flew to Eureka, California, to meet another surgeon, who was then doing experimental work in vasectomy reversals. Dr. and Mrs. McCormack told no friends or loved ones what they were trying to accomplish. They explained the out-of-town trips as business meetings.
    That 1962 operation seemed to work. The couple waited. That summer, Mrs. McCormack became pregnant.
    On April 8, 1963, Marilyn was born.
     
     
    M arilyn knows well that she was brought into this world to deliver life to a family still grieving death. From childhood on, she saw this as both a responsibility and a gift. And today, as she looks back, she realizes that the gripping circumstances of her birth helped shape her friendships.
    It’s understandable that she often thought of herself as an outsider among the Ames girls. When the others were making questionable decisions—about drinking or having secret parties or ignoring schoolwork—she’d sometimes feel too guilty to participate. She never wanted to disappoint her parents or lie to them. How could she? Before she was born, they had wanted her so badly. She’d have to be an ingrate not to honor that.
    At times, that made her seem prissy and subdued. A prude in a pageboy haircut. Some of the other girls would roll their eyes when they talked about her.