She lost 24 Children of her Own. The MYSTERY of Aunt Orlean

She lost 24 Children of her Own. The MYSTERY of Aunt Orlean

The true story of Aunt Arlene is a tragically beautiful one. Imagine for a moment a woman given birth to 24 children during her lifetime. Now imagine all 24 of those children dying before any of them ever reached their first birthday. Imagine the pain of a woman who was blamed by her community for killing them all. Prepare yourself for her incredible true story. Our story begins in the small mountain village of Lambsburg, Virginia. A remote area that is walled in by the mighty Blue Ridge Mountains in the north along with Sugarloaf Mountain in the east and Fischer Peak in the west. The small valley nestled in the middle of these highlands was once known as Roxburg because of all of the boulders that frequently came crashing down from the heavens above. It was here that a little girl named Orleene Hawks was born in 1839 on a 400 acre farm along the banks of Stewart’s Creek. One of nine children, Orlne was your typical mountain girl who helped her mother tend to the young ons, the cooking, cleaning, milking, tending to the chickens, and gathering vegetables from the garden while fetching wild berries and chestnuts from the forest. Orlene never attended school as a girl since it was commonly accepted that there was no use educating gals since all they would do is tend a house and have babies during their life. But despite her lack of formal education, Orleene was highly intelligent, and she possessed excellent judgment skills and common sense. And to be honest, those two traits alone were the most valuable that a mountaineer could have. Because of their isolation, much of the Hawks family’s time was spent tending to the crops. They usually only made the 15-mi journey through Piper’s Gap to the nearest town of Mount Ary, North Carolina at harvest each year to sell their corn, and apples in exchange for their yearly supply of sugar, salt, and other necessities. And outside of that yearly trip, the only chance Orleene had for socializing was down at the primitive Baptist Church.

Now, lots of folks don’t realize it, but church day was a big event back in those days. And preparation for that service, well, it started before Sunday had even arrived. That’s right. Women and girls would spend the entire day before baking pies and preparing food, while boys, well, they jockeyed for the right to walk the girl of their choice to and from church. The service itself was an all day event with several preachers in attendance, a full day of fiery sermons about the perils of sin and the glory of the afterlife. One after another, each time a preacher’s booming voice gave out, another would take its place with a brimstone and fire sermon. Yet, for all that preaching, most folks came to church for socializing. Men folk shared the news and discussed the weather and crops, while the women caught up on all the local gossip. But the boys and the girls, well, this was one of the few opportunities that they had to mingle and to even meet potential mates. For Orleene, this was where she first met a boy named John, who was one of the 15 Pucket children who lived three miles away on Renfro Ridge. Now, Orlene and John, well, they quickly struck up a friendship. And the boy even began regularly walking the mountain girl to and from church. Heck, twice a month he was even allowed to come visit the Hulk’s cabin where Orleene and Jon were allowed to sit on the porch together, albeit under the watchful eye of Orleans’s father. Well, anyway, the years went by and Orleene and John’s feeling for one another grew stronger, and in the spring of 1860, 16-year-old Orleene Hawks married 22-year-old John Pucket and the two quickly moved into a one room cabin at the base of Groundhog Mountain in Patrick County, Virginia, where they intended to start their new family. But you see, it’s here that this story takes a tragic turn.

That historians have debated as to what really happened and why to this very day. That’s right. Storm clouds were brewing all across America with rumors of a coming war. And by 1861, those rumors became a reality when the unthinkable happened. The Great War between the states erupted. And John Pucket, well, he had the blood of the Over Mountain men running through his veins, and he was one of the very first men in the entire county to volunteer to fight for Company K of the Confederate Army. And in June of that year, John boarded the first train he had ever seen and was shipped off to battle, unaware that his new wife was pregnant. Jon’s enthusiasm for the glory of going off to battle was quickly extinguished by the harsh realities of war. Right away, disease ran rampant through J’s unit and killed several men. Then there was the lack of equipment and proper gear. Many men wore their boots out in the first few weeks of marching, 20 to 30 m a day, and were now forced to march barefooted. And add to that, a soldier’s daily ration was only a slice of cornbread and a small amount of beef that had been preserved in salt. In fact, it was so salty that most men couldn’t even eat it. And before long, John realized this conflict was little more than a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight. Now, unbeknownst to John, back home, Orleene had given birth to their first child, a little girl named Julia. And John, well, the first time he learned of her existence was on September 27th, 1862, when he received a letter stating that his 7-month-old daughter had died from dtheria. That was a heartbreaking point for John. He simply picked up his gun, dusted himself off, quit fighting, and walked back to his cabin on Groundhog Mountain. For the next 3 years, Jon was deemed a deserter and he had to hide out in a cave near his home. Each day, Orleene would secretly bring him food. And many times, Confederate patrollers came to Orleans’s cabin searching for Jon, where they would take all of her food for themselves. Now, this was something that would never leave Orlne’s memory. Many years later, even as an old woman, when she bought groceries, she would still hide sugar and salt and all sorts of other foods throughout her cabin for fear that it would be taken. But finally, in 1865, after 3/4 of a million Americans had died in the bloodiest war in America’s history, the Civil War finally ended, and John was able to return home to Orle. Within a few months, Orleene was pregnant with her second child. But sadly, the baby boy was still born at birth.

And as sad as it was, back in those days, this was a reality of pioneer life. Giving birth to a child without any medical care during the pregnancy or birth resulted in a high mortality rate. It was dangerous for women too since pregnancy was the number two cause for death only behind tuberculosis. Still, even with the risk, folks living in the mountains, well, they needed children. Yet, what happens next remains unexplained and historians and scientists have offered several theories and explanations. With that said, here are the facts as they happened. In 1868, Orleene Pucket gave birth to her third child, another son, who was once again still born. And by now, John and Orleene had dug three of their own children’s graves and started their own personal graveyard just a few hundred feet from their one room cabin. Then on October 8th, 1870, a little girl was born who also was still born. From 1871 to 1875, Orleene had several miscarriages and premature births. Each time, mysteriously, the child didn’t survive for more than just a couple days. Astonishingly, between the years of 1861 and 1882, Orleene Pucket had five miscarriages and gave birth to 19 children, none of who lived more than a few months. And now she had a graveyard next to her cabin with 19 children and five more children in a different graveyard. But how did it happen? Orlene was said to have been devastated that she never had a single child to live. And she was quoted as saying, “I wish it would have been the Lord’s will that at least one of my children had lived.” But mountain folks who lived in the area, well, they were suspicious. And whispers and rumors swirled that perhaps the wouldbe mother had intentionally killed her children. Others floated rumors that perhaps John was involved. After all, he had a reputation as a heavy drinker, and wagon tongues had even said that he frequently laid hands on his wife when he was under the influence. Indeed, there was no shortage of theories never spread. But perhaps, there might have been some underlying medical condition. After all, Orleans’s niece had also given birth to seven children, and none of them have lived either. But you have to understand that medical research was non-existent in the mountains in the late 1800s. And in its absence, superstition ran rampant. There was no way for them to know that if a mother’s blood was Rh-negative and a father’s blood was Rh-positive, that the first child born to that couple would inherit the father’s Rh positive blood and would cause the mother to develop antibodies in future pregnancies against Rh positive red blood cells. In essence, the mother’s antibodies would attack the baby that she carried. Now, what all that scientific talk boils down to is this.

After Orleans’s first baby was born, she developed antibodies against all her future babies blood types. And thereby, each time the pregnancy was doomed. But whatever the cause, by now, Orleans’s body was wore out, and she was no longer able to conceive. Heartbroken, the mountain woman did the best she could to hide the pain she felt and did her best to go about the daily grind of raising chickens and sheep, making live soap, tanning leather, and keeping a spotless house for John. But little did Orleene know, but her life would soon change. That’s right. In 1889, just 7 years after she lost her last child, a neighbor who lived nearby on Groundhog Mountain came running to the Pucket Farm in desperation. His wife was in the throws of labor, but there was only one medical doctor in the entire county, and he would never be able to arrive in time due to the mountainous terrain. So, Orleene rushed to the side of the pregnant woman. And that night at 50 years old, in the dim light of a flickering candle, Orleene Pucket delivered her first baby. To see that child live and to hold the newborn in her arms before gently passing it to the new mother must have been medicine for Orleans’s aching soul. And that night unlocked something deep inside of her. Arlene Pucket was about to become one of the most legendary granny doctors in American history. John bought his wife a leather satchel which she filled with all the necessary tools for childbirth. Inside there was peach and apple brandy for the mother to be. Scissors, twine, catnip, sugar, eye drops, and a goose feather were all her primary tools. Orleene Pucket could be seen in her black dress and bonnet riding side straddle on her white mule named Roie all over Patrick and Carol County, Virginia to deliver a newborn baby. Even in the winter, she was said to have driven nails through the soles of her shoes to keep from slipping on ice. And she was known to ride as far as 20 m away to help some poor woman in need.

Her midwifeery record was remarkable and women began to insist on her presence instead of a medical doctor. And Orleene, well, she never asked for money. And if families insisted on paying her, it was usually with corn, apples, or honey. Folks began calling her an Orleene. And to her, every baby that she delivered was a miracle of God. One of her proudest moments in life came in 1892 when she delivered her first set of twins named Kelsey and Elsie May. Many times Orlne would arrive to a pregnant woman’s side 2 or 3 days before the birth and would even remain for several days after to help care for the mother and the child. Other times, she would immediately hand the newborn to the new mother, saddle up, and ride off to deliver another baby the same day. Her reputation of never losing a single mother or baby spread far and wide and sometimes a city doctor who was having problems with the delivery would send for Aunt Orleene to assist. On one such occasion, a frantic doctor summoned Orleene and when she arrived, she saw that the mother had been lingering in the throws of labor for far too long, and there was no time to waste. The granny doctor quickly told the expected father to go make sure that all the locks on the doors in the house were unlocked. Then she slid a knife under the struggling mother’s pillow to cut the labor pains. The city doctor, well, he just watched helplessly as Aunt Orleene reached into her satchel and pulled out a goose feather, which she then placed over the flames of the fireplace before quickly blowing out the flames. Then she placed the smoking feather under the nostrils of the mother to be. And that terrible smell sent the mother into a violent, uncontrollable coughing fit. And the contractions of that cough pushed out a healthy newborn baby boy into the stunned city doctor’s arms. On August 30, 1938, at the age of 99 years old, Aunt Orleene successfully delivered her last baby named Maxwell Hawks. Over the span of a half century, the woman, who had lost 24 children of her own, had successfully delivered over 1,000 healthy babies. Aunt Orleans’s health began quickly failing in 1938, and she soon became bedridden in that same cabin that John had built her so many years before. And John, well, he had died back in 1912, and now it was just Orlne, and she was all alone.

The world around her was changing at a rapid pace and the pioneer life that she had lived was quickly being erased with what many folks called modern progress. One form of this progress was when the Blue Ridge Parkway was tearing through the mountains that the folks like and Orleene had lived in for more than 200 years. Using imminent domain, the government began buying and seizing land that they needed for that new road. And in 1939, they came knocking at Ant Orleans’s door and told her that her property was needed. Yet, the 100-year-old mountain woman, even in her frail state, was defiant and refused to sell. But the government, well, they gave her 30 days to evacuate the premises. Now, you’ve probably heard me discuss imminent domain many times on this channel and what it’s done to the proud mountaineers throughout the past 100 years, but I tell you right now, nothing has angered me more to my core than what I’m about to tell you. Orlene Pucket, the woman who had endured so much sorrow with the loss of her own 24 children, yet somehow brought so much joy to others in delivering over 1,000 babies, all the while never asking for a single penny as payment, was the same woman who was forced out of her home by the US government. At 100 years old and too weak to even walk, her family had to carry her out of her home while still sitting in her favorite rocking chair. She died just a few weeks later in October of 1939. In 2012, the state of Virginia named Orleene Pucket, the mountain doctor who delivered over a thousand babies, yet couldn’t spell her own name as one of the 100 most important women who had ever lived in the history of Virginia. And they ensined her name on the Virginia Women’s Monument glass wall of honor. As for her property, well, the Blue Ridge Parkway runs right through it. And at mile marker 189.9, there’s a small cabin there that once stood on Orleene and John Pucket’s property that still stands in her memory. What a woman. And what an honor it was for me to share her story with you. I look forward to reading your thoughts in the comments below. Thanks so much for watching, my friends. Be sure to like and subscribe for more true stories from Appalachia’s past. Heat. Heat.