Sometimes the smallest thing can bring me to tears. Like rummaging through boxes of stuff that have long laid untouched and finding an old piece of cloth from 1975. This isn't any old cloth though. It was the makeshift banner, a sort of neighborhood birth announcement, my parents created when I was pregnant with my first child, my daughter.
My first pregnancy was a big deal for my parents, as this was also their first grandchild. They were quite anxious to be grandparents and they transferred their anxiety to their friends and neighbors. They, as well as the people they knew, grew more anxious as my due date came and went, subsequently resulting in five additional weeks of waiting!
But back to the banner.
Since everyone was on pins and needles waiting for the big day, my mom and Dad made a banner out of muslin fabric. They painted huge letters "IT'S A" on one line, "BOY" on another line and the final line read "GIRL." The concept was to cut GIRL off if the baby was a boy or to pin the line that read "GIRL" over the word "BOY" if the baby was female. They made holes in the banner, in order to put rope through it and hoist it up on their flagpole in the front yard. Every morning the neighbors looked out to see if the flag had been raised announcing that the stork had arrived during the night.
As I opened the box and unfolded the muslin cloth, I could not contain myself. I burst into tears. I really had no idea that this piece of family history had been saved. The banner was stained and crumpled from age, as it too will soon celebrate its 34th birthday. It still had the pins in it that my mother used to conceal the word BOY, so that it read in big bold letters, IT'S A GIRL!
I was overwhelmed with emotion and sobbed uncontrollably. RJ rushed to my side and I couldn't get the words out to let him know I was okay. Finally I just handed him the banner and he knew, hugging me for the ten minutes it took me to regain my composure. I didn't stay composed for very long though as all those memories of my daughter's birth came flooding back.
My daughter arrived in August of 1975. Everyone was in the throes of summer and it was hot. I remember my mother arriving at the hospital in a heavy red plaid winter coat belted at the waist. My father, who had never been physically present for the birth of his kids, was a nervous wreck waiting for the birth of his grandchild. As I labored, I remember catching glimpses of him walking up and down the corridor, a nurse walking on each side of him for support. One nurse was carrying an emesis basin and my father's face was VERY pale. This was a man who fought in three wars, but folded under the pressure of a woman in labor!
Hours passed and still no baby. Finally after thirty-six hours of labor, they called in a specialist who performed an emergency C-section. I remember the procedure vividly, but shortly after it was all over, the exhaustion set in and I fell off to sleep.
I woke up that evening in my room. I have no recollection of how I got there and I had yet to hold my daughter, as she had been whisked off after the birth. A nurse told me that everything was fine and that they would bring my baby in now that I was awake. It was such a sweet moment holding her for the first time. She was so perfect.
I later learned that after the surgery, my daughter had been brought upstairs after eliminating some initial concern that she had complications from the birth. Somewhere in all of my photos, I have a picture of my mom seeing her granddaughter for the first time. The nurse wheeled her up in her bassinet and my mother, standing there in her red plaid winter coat, put her hands over her face and cried, "it's a boy!" My husband and father just stood there looking baffled as the nurse said, "Grandma, I think you better take another look!" She did indeed take a second look. "Oh, it's a girl", she said.
As soon as my folks arrived back at their house, they grabbed the banner and headed straight for the flagpole. Neither one of them could get the rope threaded through the holes properly and gave up. Using clothespins, they attached the banner to one of the bushes in their front yard. They too were exhausted and took a long nap to regain their senses.
My mother and I laughed every time we looked back on that day. She, wearing her heavy, red plaid winter coat in 100 degree temperature, and my Dad, the tough Marine, getting even more medical attention than the mama in labor. I so wanted to pick up the phone to call her, to tell her that I found the banner and we could have a hearty laugh all over again.
I tried to clean the banner but it began to disintegrate so I opted to just leave it as is. I carefully wrapped it in tissue paper and gently placed it in a photo box, as if it was the Shroud of Turin! Someday I will add the photos taken that day and a copy of this story to the box. Hopefully anyone who opens the box in years to come will smile (or laugh) as they run their hand over the banner while gazing at the photo of my mom in her red plaid winter coat!
Comments