Farmer Gary remembers his mom, Rita, mentioning she had a little sister she never met.

This was a bit confusing at first, as Rita was the youngest in the Mike & Rosa Mehling family.

It turns out that little Henrietta was born in 1917, a full nine years before Rita’s birth.

But sadly, Henrietta never got the chance to grow up. She was only 18 months old when she left this earth.

When Gary asked his mom about what happened, she shrugged. “Sometimes children die.” That was all he was ever told. (Although I’ve since learned there is a bit of family lore claiming little Henrietta was with her mom at a local store when a witch or “hag” followed the toddler and put the evil eye on her shortly before her illness and death. Verhext!)

It’s hard to build a story when so few facts are available. And no pictures, except of the headstone.

But we do have a little bit to go on.

Here’s Henrietta Mehling’s birth certificate:

From her birth certificate, we know that Henrietta was born at home on the farm. Early in the morning – 1am! Does that mean she was thoughtful? Think of how miserably hot it can be in southern Indiana around the 4th of July. Labor and birth would be considerably easier during the late-night, presumably cooler, hours.

Using DayOfTheWeek.org, we know Henrietta was born on a Friday. Doctor Claude Lomax, from nearby St. Meinrad, was the attending physician. Henrietta was the fourth child to be born to Mike and Rosa, and the third to survive. (Baby Mary, Al’s twin, was stillborn.)

In the 18 months of Henrietta’s life, surely she smiled and then laughed. She took her first steps and said her first words.

But late in November 1918, she became ill with dysentery. That’s a nasty gastrointestinal disease. The death certificate, below, states the contributory cause of death was convulsions. That was certainly due to dehydration. Back in 1918, there was so little that could be done when a little one’s intestines took ill.

There was a pandemic around that time that caused illness in an estimated one-third of the world’s population, but Henrietta’s death can’t be blamed on that. The 1918 Flu was bronchial; it attacked the lungs.

Here is her death certificate:

Gary and I were delighted to discover recently that The Ferdinand News is finally archived on Newspapers.com. (I’d checked with editor Kathy Tretter a few years ago and she said they were in the queue to be added. It just took until now to happen.) With a quick search of their 1918 archives, we see there are only two mentions of dysentery. Two deaths, both children under two, including Henrietta:

Gary is so tenderhearted about the thought of babies never getting the chance to grow up and have a life. He wondered out loud the other evening if anyone remembers Henrietta, now that her siblings have all passed away.

And so we remember Henrietta. We never saw her little face or held her chubby hand. But we remember.

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