GoForthAndMultiply

My grand mother married a farmer`s son when she was 17 getting her first child when she was 18. she lived in a smal little community in the deep south of catholic Holland. Life was harsh in these times with the power of the church more influencial as the far away government in The Hague. Three months after her delivery the local priest would come over to the farm on his rusty old bicycle, dressed in his long black smock. He would ask her husband how come the wife was pregnant yet again. By the time she was in her early forties she had produced 19 children, looked haggard and twenty years beyond her real age.