It was blistering hot on June 18, 1957 as I waddled around the house of my parents. I was so ready to have the baby! Since this was our first child, I had come home to Momma and Daddy’s to deliver as we had moved to Savannah in the middle of my pregnancy and I didn’t want to go to a strange doctor and hospital for this blessed event! Besides, Momma had made this gorgeous baby bassinet for our new bundle of joy. Back then, part of the fun of being pregnant, if there is any, is not knowing what the baby’s gender would be, so Momma made a white, fluffy, tulle net gathered skirt all the way to the floor with little pink and blue satin bows lovingly stitched by hand onto the skirt of the wicker basket. That way, we’d be pretty safe with color. The inside, she had lined with supple white satin, sewed a sweet little mattress and covered with brand new sheeting, and placed all the appropriate pads and receiving blankets in this sweet little bed for our newborn. It kind of reminded me of a casket with all the fru fru inside, but I didn’t say a word about that since my Momma had worked her little hands off, setting us up with a fashionable bed for their first grandchild.
Sol was at National Guard camp in Hinesville for two weeks and everybody felt I would be safe in their care if by some chance I went into labor during that time. Have I mentioned how I have always loved watermelon? My Daddy came in at lunch with a prize sample of South Georgia watermelon which we chilled and cut later on in the afternoon. I ate a good-sized portion of that watermelon.
Along about five o’clock or so that afternoon, I began to have a serious stomach ache. I walked and sat. Walked and sat. Lay down, got up. Walked and sat. Time ticked by very slowly. One minute I was ok. Nah, this can’t be anything but eating too much watermelon. Then, oh Lordy! Why did I eat so much! After much huffing and puffing, we all decided we might better call Sol and tell him we think I may be in labor and he might want to come home if he could. More walking and sitting. Huffing and puffing. Hot as a pepper sprout!
Sol sails in a couple of hours later in our red 1950 Ford coupe and here we all sit still trying to decide if I’m having a baby or not. After two or three hours, we all decide I had eaten too much watermelon and Sol heads back to camp around midnight. Now, this was before the days of cell phones, mind you, so he was off and running trying to get back before he got into trouble with the US National Guard and he probably hadn’t gotten twenty miles down the road before all hell broke loose. There was no doubt that was not watermelon pains. I was in labor! Daddy called the Headquarters and told them to tell Sol when he got there that I had gone to the hospital. Two lanes and back roads through the piney woods to Hinesville is no short distance. About a two-hour drive under normal circumstances I imagine, but Sol made it back to the hospital in the nick of time. He always told about racing back driving 100 mph which I don’t doubt one bit. He always did have a heavy foot. He arrived in time to peep through the window of the delivery room and get the news we had a beautiful, blue-eyed, blond-haired baby boy, weighing in at 8 ½ lbs!
To say we were proud is an understatement. What an awesome event to be given a child with ten fingers and toes in pink perfect condition!
There are many stories between the morning of June 19, 1957 and present day. Jim, as we called him, was the typical, Norman Rockwell little boy and went through his school years like most typical little boys in those days. There were peaks and there were valleys, days of diamonds and days of stones. Parenting isn’t for the faint of heart and I know we made our share of mistakes. There would be two more beautiful babies to come after Jim. After he graduated high school, he fooled around a year or so and worked with his Dad before deciding to go off to college. I finally sent my #1 son off to meet the world with my blessings or he was going without them. It was a tough time for our family. A business venture had gone bad and we were struggling to make ends meet and I worked full time but I sat down one day and decided to write my thoughts and hopes for Jim’s future and give to him. Hopefully, someday he would understand. Life isn’t always fair and it isn’t always fun.
To Jim
8/10/77
As you start out my son to make your own way,
God bless you and keep you is the first thing I’d say.
There’s so much of life that you need to know
I wish I could spare you the heartaches and woe.
But Mothers can’t suffer all the bruises and falls
Of young men in their struggle to answer their call.
You must go your own route down the highway of life
And make some mistakes, have trouble and strife.
Temptations will plague you and draw you it’s way
You’ll have to be strong and fight it each day.
It takes courage and faith to walk straight and tall
But I know you can make it – though sometimes you’ll fall.
But remember my child, as you slip and slide
That those who love you are still on your side.
You’re in God’s hands now, and He loves you dear
Ask Him for guidance when you have doubts or fear.
Love,
Mom
