I received the most incredibly moving letter attached to a birthday card in the post today from my mother. I cried as I read it. I have not seen her for two years as my stepdad is very ill and they don’t travel every year to visit us for 5 months like they used to.
My mother doesn’t always understand what I do but she has always been very supportive. When I chose my earthly parents for this incarnation, I believe I chose very well.
Here is what she wrote:
I remember vividly the hours preceding your birth when the first pangs of evidence proclaimed that something wondrous was imminent. I couldn’t wait for the process of childbirth to happen – and champed at the bit for the time, for the journey to the hospital.
When the ‘pang’ first appeared at 3.15am, I thought – hmm this child wants to make an ‘early’ entrance – can’t wait till I’ve had my breakfast, showered and dressed. But still I kept it to myself sitting in Janet’s (my Grandmother) lounge – so I could have this time to myself – mine before grandparents fussed around – dreaming about what sex you would be, how much of each of the parents and grandparents you would inherit, would you have brown eyes, blue eyes, dark, blonde even redhead (I thought maybe possible). Would you grow up short, tall, fat, thin, happy, bubbly or quiet and reserved.
Special time- just you and me. You – preparing for your worldly journey and me – thinking of your journey through life and what it would bring for you. Hoping it would be a pretty smooth one with no too many ‘knocks’.
Daybreak suddenly appeared. I went and sat on the front steps of the veranda (in Kitwe, Zambia), listening to the newly awakened bird song, thinking that one of these days you would hear the same thing, see all that I see, but perhaps with greater understanding because nothing stands still.
Sounds within the house – Janet up – said she’d bring me tea, then suddenly everyone up, Marilyn, Colin, Cheryl, Dad and Grandad. Excited chatter from the two youngest of the family (my aunt and uncle) – could they stay away from school as today was a special day?
Everyone went their separate ways leaving Janet, Dad and I. Janet was calm, kept on watching me – I felt comforted – I thought after 6 children she’d know what to do – when to say I should go to the hospital.
More tea – eventually 9am – she said perhaps I should go to Llewelyn Hospital. Dad ran around grabbing necessities, bundled us into the Beetle and off to the hospital – it was a funny feeling.
I was so excited and here was the sisters saying – just walk a bit up and down. Can’t they see I’m going to deliver soon. Well – I was ignorant in many ways, the calmness jumped to me – after being told it maybe hours yet. So I thought relax as much as you can and enjoy it - this event with this baby is never going to occur again ever.
Dad fussed and eventually I said – just go to work, it’s going to be hours yet, so a relieved Dad retreated.
Eventually a sister (Jenkins) came and gave me a check up and said ‘I think you are ready now – have to call the doctor’.
The pains were getting intense – ‘Do you want something for it?’ they asked.
‘Definitely not,’ says I and so it was as they say in the Classics. Just how you came forth, you were very long – I thought but then I really had no experience of this phenomenon. Just was amazed that such a long-legged being had somehow been folded up inside the small womb area. Just awesome.
You were quiet at first and as the doctor and midwife were discussing you – you yelled as if suddenly aware that your ‘ordeal’ was over and you had arrived and you were ‘fed up’ because now people were discussing you and you didn’t even know who they were, and holding you upside down to boot!
One thing stuck out by far though – it was a good head of hair – maybe matted – but still quite thick. No wonder I was always scratching my belly over the last few months. (Well true or false – some say yes others say maybe).
Come rain or shine from then to present…50 years has flown by. Through each one it has been an experience never to be forgotten and such a mother’s pleasure.
Love you always
P.S. Why this meandering of the memory – hmm…just because 50 is really a special milestone and...because I can.
Bless you, Mom, I love you and thank you.