After a busy day of sitting with the girls while Karla had a doctor's appointment, running errands, unpacking some of the myriad of boxes I still have, making beef stew, taking out the recycling for tomorrow's pickup, I realize how quickly I'm settling into a routine in the new life I've begun.
It is hard for me to believe that a week ago I was frantically packing and facilitating the loading of a moving van, and that one week ago tomorrow I moved into this new house! The decision to move came about very quickly, and I could not believe how fast the deposit was secured, the mortgage was arranged, and all the other pieces of the puzzle came together. After all, I only saw the house for the first time in November, and here I was, closing on December 28, starting to move a few things in a couple of days later, and then throwing my entire life onto a moving van a couple of days after the New Year came in!
Watching those rooms empty was more painful than I expected...it brought back memories of seeing that house for the first time, empty, 37 years ago when Jim and I toured it before deciding to buy it. Since we had rented a furnished house in New Bern, this was our first real home together. It was the house we set up real housekeeping in. It was the house where I miscarried our first child. It was the house we brought Jimmy home to when he was born. And it was the house that Jim died in. I got through the day pretty well until time to leave right after the moving van pulled away. Suddenly there wasn't enough time to properly say "good-bye" to the house, no time to say "thank you" and "see you soon" to my friend who has given me so much help and support, and no time to go by the cemetery to say "good-bye for now" to Jim...I had to get on the road in order to get to Jimmy's by dark. Needless to say, I cried off and on all the way to Raleigh.
Now I'm settling in at the new house. I've been too busy to be sad - there's just too much to do to get unpacked and organized. The house is coming together and is beginning to look and feel like home. Later, in a couple of days, however, I have to go back to Greenville to pick up a load of things (items the movers wouldn't take and I had no room for last week) to bring back to the new place...I almost dread going back into the house because I know it is going to be hard. There will be other trips back, I assume, until the house sells. This is a good move, and I am happy with my decision. Already I'm enjoying the closeness of Jimmy, Karla and the girls. But I guess that, in order to say "hello" to new beginnings, you have to say "good-bye" to old ways.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Lists!
I HATE making lists...always have...just prefer to "fly by the seat of my pants" most of the time. Yeah, I know that I get more done when I make a list, prioritize, and check off the items one by one! And, yeah, I always advocated making lists as a strategy to help my students, but I really hated doing it myself!
So, what does it say now that I'm retired, with "all the time in the world", that I find myself making lists more frequently? There is housework, of course, to be done routinely. But more importantly, there is the "other stuff"...the fun stuff like crafting, sewing, reading, watching movies, etc. Now I find that if I want more time for the "fun stuff" I have no choice but to make lists, get things done, and then do what I really wanted to do. Of course, it doesn't help that I have a really bad habit of procrastinating and another bad habit of dreaming up projects that may or may not ever get done!
Right now I'm sitting in my office/sewing/crafting room and looking at a long list of unfinished projects: several baby quilts for various friends, curtains for a friend's new office, afghans to crochet, sundresses I planned to make my granddaughters last summer still not done, several cross-stitch kits to finish (some started already, some not touched), three scrapbooks for my granddaughters that haven't been updated since the fall (I do, at least, have the photos organized, dated, etc. so that will be easier!), lots of supplies that are out because of the various projects that need to be put away, a couple of Christmas projects for next Christmas, and lots of paperwork to file/go through/throw away, etc. as well as the tax stuff to get to the accountant (it is basically ready except for one piece of information I'm waiting on)...
Whew! I'm retired...why does this overwhelming list look like WORK???
So, what does it say now that I'm retired, with "all the time in the world", that I find myself making lists more frequently? There is housework, of course, to be done routinely. But more importantly, there is the "other stuff"...the fun stuff like crafting, sewing, reading, watching movies, etc. Now I find that if I want more time for the "fun stuff" I have no choice but to make lists, get things done, and then do what I really wanted to do. Of course, it doesn't help that I have a really bad habit of procrastinating and another bad habit of dreaming up projects that may or may not ever get done!
Right now I'm sitting in my office/sewing/crafting room and looking at a long list of unfinished projects: several baby quilts for various friends, curtains for a friend's new office, afghans to crochet, sundresses I planned to make my granddaughters last summer still not done, several cross-stitch kits to finish (some started already, some not touched), three scrapbooks for my granddaughters that haven't been updated since the fall (I do, at least, have the photos organized, dated, etc. so that will be easier!), lots of supplies that are out because of the various projects that need to be put away, a couple of Christmas projects for next Christmas, and lots of paperwork to file/go through/throw away, etc. as well as the tax stuff to get to the accountant (it is basically ready except for one piece of information I'm waiting on)...
Whew! I'm retired...why does this overwhelming list look like WORK???
Friday, October 29, 2010
Fall & Memories
Finally, it is beginning to feel like autumn! Those hot, humid days well into October have not felt at all like fall. Thankfully, we've received enough rain and a few cool nights, so the trees are beginning to show their brilliant colors... and it's about time!
The most beautiful tree is a maple in my back yard. That tree, a mere sapling at the time, was hand-picked by Elsie Wilson when Jim and I moved into this house. She marked it with a ribbon because of its beautiful range of colors so Doc would know which one to dig up to bring to Greenville. Every fall, that maple, which stands gloriously tall now, resembles Moses' burning bush... it is aflame with gorgeous yellows, oranges and reds. And, every fall, I have a few moments of sweet, sad memories of a mother-in-law who took such care in making sure we had a tree from "back home" that was beautiful. I've actually been agonizing that, if I move in the near future, can I get a cutting rooted so I can take a piece of the tree with me? I'll have to check with my yard man to see...because I'm not sure I can do without that tree every fall.
Autumn was always my favorite season, partially because of my birthday, but also because it seems like the whole world puts on a full-color show right before everything goes dormant for the winter. Growing up, my family always took a trip to the beautiful North Carolina mountains in the fall on a weekend near my birthday. We took a picnic lunch, including a birthday cake, and rode around admiring the myriad of colors of trees in the "hills". Often we stopped at a roadside stand and bought apples and apple cider before heading home. In 1970, when Jim and I got married, I was a bit sad that I wouldn't get to do the annual trip because of our wedding. How wonderful it was when I discovered that he planned our honeymoon in the hills of Virginia and North Carolina, giving me another reason to make fall my favorite season. It has been many years since I've taken such a pilgrimage, but I find myself thinking about it every fall.
One fall, only a year or two after my marriage, Jim and I were in Madison for a weekend. Elsie was up late on Friday night pre-cooking some of the meats and preparing the vegetables. Saturday morning, a fire was built under a huge cast iron pot in the back yard, and, with the help of Doc, Jim, and Hopper, we combined all the meats and vegetables, many of which came from Doc's garden, in that pot. I can still remember the cool, crisp air combined with the smell of wood smoke and brunswick stew...the best I ever tasted. And, as cool as the weatherman says it will get tonight, a big bowl of homemade stew would taste wonderful!
Having been a science teacher, I know that the shorter amount of daylight coupled with the cooler temperatures causes the chlorophyll in the leaves to stop working and changes the leaf color. I prefer to think some kind of magic has been performed, and that the trees are refusing to go quietly into the cold, dark days of winter. They rage against that prospect with all the fire and emotion they can muster, and I love it every year!
The most beautiful tree is a maple in my back yard. That tree, a mere sapling at the time, was hand-picked by Elsie Wilson when Jim and I moved into this house. She marked it with a ribbon because of its beautiful range of colors so Doc would know which one to dig up to bring to Greenville. Every fall, that maple, which stands gloriously tall now, resembles Moses' burning bush... it is aflame with gorgeous yellows, oranges and reds. And, every fall, I have a few moments of sweet, sad memories of a mother-in-law who took such care in making sure we had a tree from "back home" that was beautiful. I've actually been agonizing that, if I move in the near future, can I get a cutting rooted so I can take a piece of the tree with me? I'll have to check with my yard man to see...because I'm not sure I can do without that tree every fall.
Autumn was always my favorite season, partially because of my birthday, but also because it seems like the whole world puts on a full-color show right before everything goes dormant for the winter. Growing up, my family always took a trip to the beautiful North Carolina mountains in the fall on a weekend near my birthday. We took a picnic lunch, including a birthday cake, and rode around admiring the myriad of colors of trees in the "hills". Often we stopped at a roadside stand and bought apples and apple cider before heading home. In 1970, when Jim and I got married, I was a bit sad that I wouldn't get to do the annual trip because of our wedding. How wonderful it was when I discovered that he planned our honeymoon in the hills of Virginia and North Carolina, giving me another reason to make fall my favorite season. It has been many years since I've taken such a pilgrimage, but I find myself thinking about it every fall.
One fall, only a year or two after my marriage, Jim and I were in Madison for a weekend. Elsie was up late on Friday night pre-cooking some of the meats and preparing the vegetables. Saturday morning, a fire was built under a huge cast iron pot in the back yard, and, with the help of Doc, Jim, and Hopper, we combined all the meats and vegetables, many of which came from Doc's garden, in that pot. I can still remember the cool, crisp air combined with the smell of wood smoke and brunswick stew...the best I ever tasted. And, as cool as the weatherman says it will get tonight, a big bowl of homemade stew would taste wonderful!
Having been a science teacher, I know that the shorter amount of daylight coupled with the cooler temperatures causes the chlorophyll in the leaves to stop working and changes the leaf color. I prefer to think some kind of magic has been performed, and that the trees are refusing to go quietly into the cold, dark days of winter. They rage against that prospect with all the fire and emotion they can muster, and I love it every year!
Friday, April 16, 2010
My Own Little Palace of Versailles
Back in the '90s, I accompanied my son and his classmates on a trip to Europe during spring break. It was one of those whirlwind trips during which we covered Paris, a couple of cities in Switzerland, and a couple of cities in Germany in ten days. One of the most memorable parts of the trip was a visit, on a Sunday morning, to the Palace of Versailles, just outside of Paris. Lately, that beautiful palace has been on my mind, especially in the mornings. Let me explain.
The Palace of Versailles was initially built by Louis XIV, the "Sun King", of France. Good old Louis had the palace built so that one side faced east and the other side faced west, and he had many windows installed on both sides so that the house was brightly lighted all day. So, the "Sun King" was the center of the sun's light all day, waking with its brilliance in the morning and watching it sink into the west every evening. Perhaps it was a bit egocentric of him, but apparently the sunlight was very important to him. (I don't know that his heirs had the same feeling for the sunlight. While they added onto the palace, including building enormous English-style gardens, the symbolism seemed lost on the later generations. And, I won't comment on the attitude and downfall of Louis XVI and his young wife Marie Antoinette!)
Why the history lesson, you may ask. Well, coincidently my house, though much smaller and less grand than the Palace of Versailles, is situated such that the morning sun shines on the front and the evening sun lights up the back. Almost every morning when I get up, sunlight is streaming through the beveled glass oval of my front door, creating a beautiful pattern on the living room and den floors. Since I had a screened porch added on the back of the den, the French doors (again, how coincidental) line up with the front door in such a way that light travels straight through the house. At the end of the day, when the sun is sinking in the west, the den is brightly lighted, and, again, light travels through the house to the front room. Okay, so what's the big deal? Well, it may not matter at all to some people, but to me, that sunlight has become very important.
I've always noticed the difference in mood between a sunny day and a dark, overcast one. Even when I was teaching school, it was obvious that moods changed on those cloudy, rainy days. I did not know, however, how important that sunlight was (perhaps even medicinal) until my husband was fighting a terminal bout with pancreatic cancer nine years ago. He began, as he called it, "following the sun" every day. With chemo, he was restricted from being out in bright sunlight, so he sat in the living room in the mornings, enjoying the brilliant sunlight, and then moved to the den after lunch when the sun began pouring into the back side of the house. It was as if the sunlight kept his mood positive and uplifted him.
A week or so after his death, I visited my physician to get a "doctor's note" allowing me to stay out of work the rest of the school year (2-3 more weeks). Along with his supportive and caring manner, he made a surprising suggestion (a non-written prescription, if you will): "open the windows and doors and let the light in...for if you don't I'll be treating you for depression in 3-6 months!" I immediately began opening the blinds and the doors, instead of "hiding" in the dark feeling sorry for myself. Within a few days, I not only felt better, I found I actually "craved" the sunlight... could not get along with it!
Now, nine years later, I get up every morning, reveling in the pattern of sunlight coming through the front door, and I begin my "rounds". The blinds in every room get opened, one by one, until light is pouring in on the front rooms of the house. The blinds on the French doors are opened, allowing me to see the beauty of the trees in my back yard, some just kissed by the morning sun. Soon, when the threat of pollen lessens, I'll begin taking my newspaper and my breakfast out to the screened porch every morning, where I'll enjoy the sights and sounds of the world waking with the sun. (Needless to say, I suffer greatly on the dark, gloomy days which do, by necessity, occasionally occur!)
It occurred to me recently that, of all the things I have listed in my mind that I'd have to have if I relocate to Raleigh or Greensboro, that I had forgotten the most important: lots of windows and sunlight! Wherever I eventually live, I must have lots of natural light. Like Louis XIV, I need to be in a position to see the light at all times of the day. So, the next time I'm thinking about moving, I'll add lots of windows and sunlight to the list of property features. I can't afford the Palace of Versailles, but I can have a taste of its features wherever I live!
The Palace of Versailles was initially built by Louis XIV, the "Sun King", of France. Good old Louis had the palace built so that one side faced east and the other side faced west, and he had many windows installed on both sides so that the house was brightly lighted all day. So, the "Sun King" was the center of the sun's light all day, waking with its brilliance in the morning and watching it sink into the west every evening. Perhaps it was a bit egocentric of him, but apparently the sunlight was very important to him. (I don't know that his heirs had the same feeling for the sunlight. While they added onto the palace, including building enormous English-style gardens, the symbolism seemed lost on the later generations. And, I won't comment on the attitude and downfall of Louis XVI and his young wife Marie Antoinette!)
Why the history lesson, you may ask. Well, coincidently my house, though much smaller and less grand than the Palace of Versailles, is situated such that the morning sun shines on the front and the evening sun lights up the back. Almost every morning when I get up, sunlight is streaming through the beveled glass oval of my front door, creating a beautiful pattern on the living room and den floors. Since I had a screened porch added on the back of the den, the French doors (again, how coincidental) line up with the front door in such a way that light travels straight through the house. At the end of the day, when the sun is sinking in the west, the den is brightly lighted, and, again, light travels through the house to the front room. Okay, so what's the big deal? Well, it may not matter at all to some people, but to me, that sunlight has become very important.
I've always noticed the difference in mood between a sunny day and a dark, overcast one. Even when I was teaching school, it was obvious that moods changed on those cloudy, rainy days. I did not know, however, how important that sunlight was (perhaps even medicinal) until my husband was fighting a terminal bout with pancreatic cancer nine years ago. He began, as he called it, "following the sun" every day. With chemo, he was restricted from being out in bright sunlight, so he sat in the living room in the mornings, enjoying the brilliant sunlight, and then moved to the den after lunch when the sun began pouring into the back side of the house. It was as if the sunlight kept his mood positive and uplifted him.
A week or so after his death, I visited my physician to get a "doctor's note" allowing me to stay out of work the rest of the school year (2-3 more weeks). Along with his supportive and caring manner, he made a surprising suggestion (a non-written prescription, if you will): "open the windows and doors and let the light in...for if you don't I'll be treating you for depression in 3-6 months!" I immediately began opening the blinds and the doors, instead of "hiding" in the dark feeling sorry for myself. Within a few days, I not only felt better, I found I actually "craved" the sunlight... could not get along with it!
Now, nine years later, I get up every morning, reveling in the pattern of sunlight coming through the front door, and I begin my "rounds". The blinds in every room get opened, one by one, until light is pouring in on the front rooms of the house. The blinds on the French doors are opened, allowing me to see the beauty of the trees in my back yard, some just kissed by the morning sun. Soon, when the threat of pollen lessens, I'll begin taking my newspaper and my breakfast out to the screened porch every morning, where I'll enjoy the sights and sounds of the world waking with the sun. (Needless to say, I suffer greatly on the dark, gloomy days which do, by necessity, occasionally occur!)
It occurred to me recently that, of all the things I have listed in my mind that I'd have to have if I relocate to Raleigh or Greensboro, that I had forgotten the most important: lots of windows and sunlight! Wherever I eventually live, I must have lots of natural light. Like Louis XIV, I need to be in a position to see the light at all times of the day. So, the next time I'm thinking about moving, I'll add lots of windows and sunlight to the list of property features. I can't afford the Palace of Versailles, but I can have a taste of its features wherever I live!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Counting Blessings
In the movie "White Christmas", Bing Crosby sings a song about counting your blessings instead of sheep when you have trouble sleeping. Today I'm thinking it's a good idea to count our blessings any time, but especially during the Christmas season and as the new year approaches.
I am blessed to be part of a wonderful, loving, and supportive family. My mother turns 87 today, is in good health, lives on her own still, and is as fiesty as ever. My siblings are "good people", the kind everyone wants to have as friends. This year we've rejoiced at successful surgeries, recovering from heart attacks, the birth of a new grandchild, and the wedding of another son. The family is getting larger and happier every day.
I am blessed to have had the love of a good man for over 30 years, a man who was by nature a "caretaker" who, 'though he's been gone nearly 9 years, still seems to be watching over me. Through his planning and stewardship, along with my own investments, I have been blessed with the gift of retirement and the joy of being able to enjoy my life without having to go to work every day. His greatest gift to me was our son, who continues to be a blessing every day. He has blessed me with a beautiful and intelligent daughter-in-law and, so far, two wonderful granddaughters with number three due in January.
I am blessed to have increasingly good health, due in part to the decision to get control of my weight and my life. The highly capable surgeon who did my gastric bypass, as well as the friends and family who helped and supported me during the initial recovery, are also counted among my blessings.
It was a blessing this week to learn that a friend of my husband's, fighting a rare form of cancer that is probably the result of exposure to Agent Orange in Viet Nam, is in remission. So far his surgeries and the chemo and radiation have worked...praise God! It is always a blessing to hear when someone actually wins over the "Big C"!
I am blessed to be a Christian, and to know that God is always there for me. I am blessed to be a part of a loving, caring church, which, even when I haven't been attending regularly, has been shepherding and supporting me. Their prayers and visits during my recovery from surgery, their constant inquiries about my son and his family, and their genuine friendship have been invaluable to me.
I am blessed to live in a country where I can worship and move about freely. Even when conditions and politics are troubled, it is a place where people can question and discuss and brainstorm solutions without fear of recrimination.
Most recently, I am blessed to have a second chance at love. I am very aware that we are lucky to have found true, honest love even once in our lives, and I am sometimes a little overwhelmed to be given another chance. While he has been and still is my best friend, he has become so much more, and I cannot imagine my life without him in it.
While I am sure there are many more blessings I could count, I'll stop there. As the season for rejoicing over the birth of Christ approaches, I hope everyone stops to count their blessings. As the old year rings out, I hope everyone receives even more blessings for the new year!
I am blessed to be part of a wonderful, loving, and supportive family. My mother turns 87 today, is in good health, lives on her own still, and is as fiesty as ever. My siblings are "good people", the kind everyone wants to have as friends. This year we've rejoiced at successful surgeries, recovering from heart attacks, the birth of a new grandchild, and the wedding of another son. The family is getting larger and happier every day.
I am blessed to have had the love of a good man for over 30 years, a man who was by nature a "caretaker" who, 'though he's been gone nearly 9 years, still seems to be watching over me. Through his planning and stewardship, along with my own investments, I have been blessed with the gift of retirement and the joy of being able to enjoy my life without having to go to work every day. His greatest gift to me was our son, who continues to be a blessing every day. He has blessed me with a beautiful and intelligent daughter-in-law and, so far, two wonderful granddaughters with number three due in January.
I am blessed to have increasingly good health, due in part to the decision to get control of my weight and my life. The highly capable surgeon who did my gastric bypass, as well as the friends and family who helped and supported me during the initial recovery, are also counted among my blessings.
It was a blessing this week to learn that a friend of my husband's, fighting a rare form of cancer that is probably the result of exposure to Agent Orange in Viet Nam, is in remission. So far his surgeries and the chemo and radiation have worked...praise God! It is always a blessing to hear when someone actually wins over the "Big C"!
I am blessed to be a Christian, and to know that God is always there for me. I am blessed to be a part of a loving, caring church, which, even when I haven't been attending regularly, has been shepherding and supporting me. Their prayers and visits during my recovery from surgery, their constant inquiries about my son and his family, and their genuine friendship have been invaluable to me.
I am blessed to live in a country where I can worship and move about freely. Even when conditions and politics are troubled, it is a place where people can question and discuss and brainstorm solutions without fear of recrimination.
Most recently, I am blessed to have a second chance at love. I am very aware that we are lucky to have found true, honest love even once in our lives, and I am sometimes a little overwhelmed to be given another chance. While he has been and still is my best friend, he has become so much more, and I cannot imagine my life without him in it.
While I am sure there are many more blessings I could count, I'll stop there. As the season for rejoicing over the birth of Christ approaches, I hope everyone stops to count their blessings. As the old year rings out, I hope everyone receives even more blessings for the new year!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Elvis did a movie called "Girls, Girls, Girls". In "West Side Story" one of the characters sings about enjoying being a girl. In "South Pacific", the sailors sing "There is Nothing Like a Dame". Can you tell I have girls on the brain??? Today my son and daughter-in-law learned from an ultrasound that baby #3 is another girl (which is what they have believed all along). That's a bunch of females in one house! And I love it!
This event has reminded me of an incident that occurred when my son Jimmy was very young (5 or so). I was explaining to him that the reason he didn't have a brother or sister was that some people just didn't have babies as easily as others. In the course of the conversation, I happened to mention that "I sure would have liked to have a little girl, too." He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, in all the seriousness he could muster, "One day I'll give you a little girl, Mommy".
The day in the fall of 2005 when they had the ultrasound for their first child, Jimmy called me at school to give a report. "Remember that promise I made years ago? Well, you're going to get your little girl!" While I was excited about the news, it was the fact that my child remembered a promise made at age 5 that truly touched my soul. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I promptly went to the "pearl lady" at my school and ordered a set of white tiny baby pearls for my first granddaughter.
Katherine Elizabeth arrived in January 2006, and I entered a world of pink and lace and princesses, which was far different from Match Box cars, Star Wars, and G. I. Joe. Having a little girl to spoil was so much fun. We decorated the nursery with pastel colors, a green and white toile of Mother Goose rhymes, and yellow and white walls...and it was a thrill to sew some of the bedding and curtains.
Then, a little over a year ago, my son called again to tell me the results of the ultrasound for baby #2: it's a girl! Conferring with my "children" (because I truly think of my daughter-in-law as my child), I plunged into sewing red gingham and ladybug bedding for the second arrival. Naturally, I again conferred with the "pearl lady" and ordered another set of tiny pearls, pink this time. Margaret Josephine arrived in October 2008, and now I had two little girls!
Now, today, I've learned that baby #3, due in January 2010, is another girl! Just think of the tea parties to host, the doll houses to furnish, the doll clothes to make, the fairy tales to read, and "meals" to cook with three of them! And, yes, I've already called the "pearl lady" to order another set of tiny pearls, lavendar this time, for the third girl.
I am on Cloud Nine, and I just had to share my feelings!
Monday, June 29, 2009
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.
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.
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