On this day in history, in a year that shan’t be revealed, a divorced woman went into labor.
She was recently divorced, heartbroken, betrayed, but fervently hoping, waiting, and praying for this baby. She’d had hope before but her hopes had been dashed. Just when hope was dwindling, this baby stayed, safe; a forever companion.
On this day, September 24, that baby – 3 weeks late – said, “Momma, it’s time. Let’s go.” And off they went. With no husband, but a devoted mom & dad, and sisters, to support this little one and her new little one. Her bundle of joy.
As she writhed in pain, pushing, trying to bring this little one into the world, she said she knew, she just knew, that it had to be a boy. “It’s a boy, it’s a boy, I know it is!” But she didn’t know. Back then there were no ultrasounds to tell a momma-to-be what she was going to have.
And with one mighty push from the momma, and a tail-bone cracking kick from the baby, there was no more waiting. She was here. And, indeed, it was a she. The momma cried and named her Stefanie, with an “f”, like Stefanie Powers. Because she thought the baby would be a redhead. (She wasn’t, though possibly in temperament if the wive’s tales are true.)
The momma took the baby girl home, to their little house with the tiny yellow nursery, and it was just them and they were good.
In a few weeks the momma went back to her job at the bank and the baby stayed with her grandma every day. And she didn’t know it, but this was love and it was all she knew and all she needed. At that time.
Then one day the momma met a daddy. He was a daddy before, and he was willing to be a daddy again. And they married. And the daddy adopted little Stefanie to be his very own. A family was born.
And the baby was loved. She had a mommy-forever-companion and a daddy-who-doted and, in time, she had older siblings who moved in too. This little girl climbed up high whenever she could and jumped on things and, in the words of her aunt, she was “fearless.” It was comfort and safety, and she was always caught before she fell. She didn’t know fear.
It was all she knew and she was happy.
3 thoughts on “The Story of Me”
Awwww dang….that’s really beautiful Steph. And I bet it made your mama cry. In a good way. One of the parts of getting older that I love the most is gaining the maturity to reflect on my parents experience (from my limited viewpoint) with a little more clarity. Not sure that makes sense, as I type it out….but hopefully you get it. Happy (late) Birthday.
Aw, thanks Elsa. I get it. 😉