Journal of a Living Lady #242
Nancy White Kelly
This is Friday night. Even my nerves are nervous. I decided to start this column, though I know a lengthy interruption is coming before it is finished. Our daughter-in-law, Tori, Charlie’s wife, is due with their first child in mid-March. Her blood pressure has remained consistently high this week making it likely she will need to be induced into labor early.
Interruption One: The telephone just rang. Charlie says the doctors intend to begin the birthing process in the morning. Tori’s parents are on their way from Warner Robins to Gainesville. Buddy and I will try to get a little sleep before heading to the hospital ourselves.
We’ve been anxiously awaiting the delivery of our grandson, Micah Walter Kelly, for eight months. Our other son, Bobby, whom we adopted at age ten, and his wife have two young children. They are our grandchildren in every respect except for DNA. Even so, everyone knows this birth is special.
Charlie was our miracle son born after almost 16 years of marriage. Due to health problems and previous miscarriages, my physician wanted to end all chances of another pregnancy. I gave him the biggest piece of my mind I could spare. The gynecologist didn’t mention such an operation again. My mother didn’t either. Nor Buddy.
A few years earlier, after a passionate prayer in the woods, I was convinced that God was going to give us a son. I never stopped believing that. Twelve foster children later, He did.
When Charlie was in kindergarten, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I prayed to live to see him graduate from high school. In spite of the medical odds, I made 12 years, before the cancer recurred to the lungs and bone. Yet, I lived to see Charlie graduate from high school, college, marry, and now eagerly awaiting his own son to enter this world. He gets his Masters Degree this spring also, an extra bonus to Buddy and me. Tori gets her’s too.
How Buddy and I have been blessed. Someone told me last week that they fully expected me to pray to see our grandson graduate from high school. I hadn’t thought of it before, but that seems like a logical request to me. Well, maybe not logical, but certainly within God’s capabilities. He specializes in miracles. I am one.
INTERRUPTION TWO: I temporarily suspend this column to take my place in the waiting room.
I have never witnessed a birth before, but Tori specifically requested that both mothers, along with Charlie, be in the delivery suite. Grateful for the invitation, I quietly stood in the corner near her head and videotaped what turned out to be the second most stressful time in my life, the other being Charlie’s birth.
At one point, a doctor dressed in scrubs rushed in, forceps in hand. The baby was growing weary of the long struggle through the birth canal. His heart rate had dropped significantly and needed some urgent assistance.
Ecstatic sounds of great joy filled the delivery room as baby Micah finally entered the world crying. His little arms were up-raised and outstretched as if praising God. I immediately noticed his blond hair and facial features. That piece of my mind I gave the gynecologist years earlier apparently wasn’t the part that affects long-term memory. I am positive that Micah’s countenance is a near duplicate of Charlie’s face at birth. The resemblance is astounding.
A flurry of activity took place as the nurses and doctors attended to mother and child. The whirling cameras, both still and video, made me think of the modern day paparazzi. Even in the first few moments of Micah’s life, numerous cameras flashed in his face as everyone in the room seemed intent on documenting the occasion.
Moments later, while I was holding the baby, Micah slowly opened one eye, then the other. Those beady blue circles seemed to be intently examining my face. What was he thinking? I’d love to know.
My oldest brother has dubbed me Grinning Granny. I can’t stop smiling. I am on the top of Grandmother Mountain and I don’t want to come down.
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nancyk@alltel.net
