So I came across a great post this morning that was written for a writing challenge. If you want to join or know the details here is the link:
(sorry, I can’t get the link to work for some reason.)
Needless to say I decided to join in on the fun because it seemed..well…fun. This is my first post in this challenge and it is suppose to be a memory I had before the age of 2.
I do not remember much before the age of 4 but I do know plenty of stories about my first years.
Let’s start with my mother.
My mom had me when she was 28. It was no small feat giving birth to me or even conceiving me. She had been pregnant I believe 4 times and all resulted in miscarriages. She became pregnant for the fifth time and prayed to God that he let her give birth and promised that she would raise the child in church and straighten up her life.
Little background–my mom is from a very small town in rural east Texas. She was a quiet, shy girl that my grandfather once told me “was born crying.” I think he was trying to say that she is and always has been really sensitive but that phrase could be taken a few different ways really. (I have never been positive what he exactly meant.) She was the middle child and would often climb trees and listen to Tom Jones while she watched people from the branches. She went off to college and had her “wild stage”, she moved from the country to Dallas after college, met my dad and started dating, they moved in with each other and eventually became married. Cohabitation prior to marriage in her town and more importantly, her parent’s was considered very wrong. I guess this may be the reason she felt that she wasn’t living right and needed to make all the promises to God in order to give birth but make a pact with God she did and lo and behold I was born 9 months and 2 and a half weeks later.
My birth was awfully dramatic, my mother’s heart quit beating and she quit breathing–I don’t want to say she died but the doctors were forced to focus on saving me because my heartbeat was becoming slow and inconsistent. The details are hazy here but somehow my mother was revived or she began breathing again, not to sure what happened but the point is my mother survived. Thinking about how different life would have been had I survived and never known my mother brings uncontrollable tears to my eyes. She has always been a best friend to me throughout life and I can not imagine life without her. Her hair which had always been dishwater blonde became dark brown after this incident and while it had always been somewhat wavy it became super curly and is to this day.
The first time she held me, she tells me that I glared at her as if I was angry about something and she says my eyes demanded to know who she was. She tells me it was then that she realized life wasn’t all about her. And keeping true to her promise with God, she raised me in church and was an excellent mother.
Some of you may be wondering why I haven’t mentioned much about my dad or maybe wondering if he was even around for my birth. He was there in the delivery room and there will be plenty about him later but all you need to know is when I was born and he first held me, I had my first bowel movement all over the front of his shirt. I like to imagine it was on purpose.