Jimmy's Birthday

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic today because 32 years ago today I gave birth to my beautiful son.

The year before I had carried a pregnancy about 10 weeks and miscarried, and this pregnancy was filled with joy, excitement and anxiety. We knew that this might be our only chance for a child, short of adoption, so we were nervous. The pregnancy was as "textbook" as it gets, with movement, positioning, everything happening exactly on time. It was so perfect, in fact, that we came to believe that it was a gift from God.

On June 28, a horrible accident occurred a few miles away, a ruptured gas line causing a house to explode, killing one of ECU's coaches and his wife. For several hours I was involved in various phone calls with Athletic Department personnel about the accident and about one of the athletes, a wrestler, who was badly injured by the explosion. Naturally I was a little "keyed up" when I went to bed and had a hard time sleeping.

Around midnight, I began having occasional contractions (not at all regular) and having frequent trips to the bathroom. By 3:30 AM, I was sure something was happening, so we set off for the hospital. While they determined that I was not in steady labor, they did decide that my water was leaking, so I was checked into the hospital.

Officially, labor did not really begin until after 6:30 AM, and it progressed quickly. By 9:20 AM I was definitely in some sort of transition. When nurses determined at 9:30 AM that the baby had crowned and "I can see the hair on its head", I was wheeled to delivery. A few pushes later, I heard the loud cry of my son. The time was 10:04 AM, and it was not only his due date, it was almost exactly the same time he was conceived months earlier (yes, I knew exactly when he was conceived). Since there had been no drugs administered, he was wide-eyed, alert, and very angry about being so rudely handled!

The next day I was requested to meet someone at the end of the hall (he could not come onto the Maternity hall). It was the wrestler who was injured in the explosion, sharing some of his flowers with me and congratulating me on my new baby before he went home to recuperate.


Over the next years, my son became a dominant part of my life, perhaps more so than some because his dad had to work so many crazy hours that I was often mother and father. Was he a perfect child? Definitely no. Was he a good child? Most of the time. Was he a challenge? For sure, especially in the teen years! Was he the most precious gift I ever received? Absolutely.
And, when my husband died, my son truly became a man, being strong and supportive for me.

Now my son is a mature, responsible man with a wife, two beautiful daughters, and another child on the way. He is a good husband and father, a respected and well-liked member of the district attorney's staff, and overall a good man. He is the joy of my life and well on his way to being the man his father always thought he would be.