Fifty-Seven...

 

 Birthday Story... 

Fifty-seven years ago this week, a twenty-year-old woman, soon to be divorced, was packing to leave her sad excuse of a husband. She had been to her OBGYN earlier that day for her seven month prenatal visit and the doctor had cleared her for the drive she planned to make from South Carolina to Florida, where she planned to stay with her grandmother.

Told that her pregnancy was progressing normally, she looked forward to leaving and having time to settle before her late October due date. As evening lengthened, she began to feel something wasn't right, and by the time she had reached a friend who drove her to the hospital on a nearby Air Force base, labour had begun.

Steps were taken to halt its progress, including she would later claim, being given something that knocked her out. Upon reaching consciousness early on the morning of August 4, she learned that a daughter had been born. Doctors were not optimistic about the newborn's chances of survival and her young mother was afraid of the loss of this, her second daughter, in just under a year...

That young woman was my mother and I think about her a lot this time of year. She is no longer living and our relationship was complicated at best.  I have cheated death on more than one occasion, so birthdays hold a special significance for me. I have learned to be humbly grateful for friends, time and the myriad other things that fill my life.

As I celebrate this week I'll also pause to remember some special folks I've met through blogging. Thanks for all of your kind remarks and concern regarding my back issue. It is what it is, as the saying goes. Be well.

Until Next Time...