Lunch hour musings: Thirty-four years ago today I was being held hostage in my own apartment. It was not an intruder from without who kept me there, but rather one from within. I was a single mom living in a college apartment. Three days past my due date, I was so large with child my over-sized maternity jumper (which slid off my shoulders) could no longer clear my midsection. (It must have been a comical sight, as the front hem was easily six inches higher than the back.) My previously slim figure was now so swollen I was almost unrecognizable. (In 1980 who thought to check for gestational diabetes or oedema?) Weve all said of a pregnant woman, She looks like she swallowed a basketball. Well, I had the appearance of someone who had inhaled an entire Volkswagen Beetle. So, there I sat in my apartment, praying the rosary and waiting for an inevitable C-section. Then it happened. My ginormous baby, which had settled in the breech position, performed a somersault. It stretched, rolled and clawed its way head first into the birth canal,where it hunkered down, waiting for its debut. (I can only describe the sensation in terms of two “B” movies of the era. It was as if footage from “Earthquake” and “Aliens” had somehow been spliced together. I sometimes wonder if a seismograph registered a minor tremor in Bowling Green, Ohio that day.) Back home my nervous family waited. (I had remained in BG only because my doctor and priest were there. Father James J. Bacik not only counseled me, he arranged for me to work with an adoption agency. Ultimately, with my college credits completed, I felt prepared for the challenges ahead.) October 17th fell on a Friday that year, just as it does today. By Saturday I was in hard labor. Without telling anyone, I checked myself into Wood County Hospital in the dark of night. I was so scared. The next afternoon, on Sunday, October 19th, I delivered a twelve pound son, but not without the help of a last- minute spinal block, forceps and two dedicated nurses who climbed up on the delivery table and helped me push. All along, God was with me. That day, I finally met my beautiful son Will. That night, my loving but typically non-demonstrative dad, who had struggled watching his oldest daughter face this alone, leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. He then told me something I remember to this day: “Sis, no matter whatever else you do with your life, I could never be prouder of you than I am today.” My son Will forever holds a special place in my heart. His birth ushered in motherhood, the greatest chapter of my life. The first Basinger grandchild, my beautiful brown-eyed son become my dad’s sidekick and a best friend to my then my five-year old brother Chris. A few years later, I met Larry Henry. Will found the father he never had, and Larry found the instant family he so desperately wanted. Larry once told me that the day Wills adoption was finalized was one of the greatest days of his entire life. So, a journey that began in shame and sorrow ended in great joy. Every year on October 19th, when my son celebrates another birthday, I thank God for my brilliant, big-hearted and quick-witted son. I rejoice in a life and a journey that forever transformed and shaped me.
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 15:37:53 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015