July 19, 2018 -- on this day 44 years ago, I was experiencing one of Life’s greatest miracles . . . childbirth.
Yep, I was in another state, away from my Georgia home base and about to give birth. A most exciting and scary venture all at once. As the expectant parent you are (if you did not choose to find out) wondering whether you will have a boy or a girl. You are of course praying that all goes well and your child will be healthy and born with no complications.
I was blessed in that respect. At 9:26 a.m. my daughter came into the world and with her came a new way of life, and a flood of emotions and deep feelings that would follow me all my life.
I recall my short time in the hospital. I held my daughter all the time. The nurses would bring her in, all wrapped in her Mickey Mouse blanket, and I would just cuddle her and marvel at the wonder of it all. They had to practically pry her out of my hands so she could get some comfortable sleep time. I was instantly endowed with super powers as I became a blend of the tender caregiver and Amazon protector.
And now, I am a grandmother. I was there for the birth of the next woman of our dynasty. I hope the world sees us as strong Southern women, with kind hearts and good minds. My hope is that our lives stand for something and make a difference in this old world.
This day always makes me think of my mother and her annual tradition. She would call me each year on my birthday, and tell me the “birthday story.” She would remind me of each detail. I was born on a Thursday, the 12th of the month at 11:50 p.m. (I barely missed Friday the thirteenth.) She would repeat her well rehearsed step by step story of her thoughts, how my dad reacted, right up until they took me home for my new life.
I have to be honest and tell you that after a couple of decades of this I grew weary of the saga. But I always indulged my mother, for having given birth myself, I felt she had earned bragging and storytelling rights.
My mother died when I was 47 -- too soon, much too soon in the scheme of things. She did not live to see her great-granddaughter and many other milestones of our lives. And I must tell you that one of the saddest moments in my life was my first birthday after her death. Oh, how I wished the phone would ring and I would once again be regaled with the “birthday story.”
But, my mother left her legacy. I shall talk to my daughter today and re-live this date 44 years ago with her, carefully relating all the details of her birth day. So, much love to all the mothers out there. And, I love you, “Punkin,” with all my heart.