The day arrived early and my hubby and his brother were planning a hunting trip. Because I was already past my due date of August 29th, and here it was September 6th, and feeling 'different', and planning to go to a Labor Day picnic my former church always had on Labor Day at Danville Park, I was taken over to my mother's to wait for the men to do their hunting and then go on to the picnic. They had only been gone a short time when the 'different feeling' I had became known. I wet my pants. No, I didn't, really. My water broke. After only one other child and she was born quite easily due to being put out for most of the labor, I had no clue what was a head of me.
I grabbed a towel to sit and on and went back to the chair where I had been sitting. Mother was teaching me how to crochet a doily out of yarn. I didn't know how to crochet then, and Mother was doing her best to distract me. After six children, she KNEW what was going to be happening. I.had.no.clue. As time went on, I started to feel twinges of pain. I was begining to wish the men would come quickly back for I needed my hubby to take care of me. He would know what to do, right? Mother told my step-father he was going to be needed to take me to the hospital. So what does he do? He starts taking his time to clean up, change clothes, shave.... then he says, well, I think I need to go get gas first, so out the door he went. In the meantime, my twinges of pain increased in intensity and timing.
Thank God my hubby and his brother came back early from their hunting as they hadn't been able to find anything. Squirrels, I think it was, that they were hunting for. When he came back, while my step-father was still getting gas for their car, my mother told him he needed to get me to the hospital, which was 30-45 minutes away. We had called ahead and they knew we were going to head that way.
Hubby was driving, me in the passenger seat, and my brother -in-law in the backseat - of a Volkswagon, heading towards Danville to the hospital. By now the pain was getting really bad. We arrived quickly (yes, hubby did speed to get there) and they took me into the 'labor room'. I hadn't been there long before I realized this was going to be a lot more 'real' than it was with my first child. These people were heartless. Seriously. I was definitely in pain, and they were giving me NOTHING for it. Hubby wasn't allowed to come back to the labor room. I needed him to keep me calm. Back then husbands were not allowed in the delivery room either. They were banned to the waiting room.
I can still remember being told to stop my yelling (well, daggone it, it hurt!). They finally said they could see the head and wheeled me into the delivery room. My doctor was on vacation so his cover was to take care of me - but was no where to be found. He had not arrived yet. I didn't like him before the delivery, and I liked him less for being late. I'm laying on the bed in the delivery room, they have put my feet in stirrups, and STILL WOULD NOT GIVE ME ANYTHING FOR THE PAIN!! Why? Because they doctor hadn't come in yet and hadn't authorized it. The last thing I remember is me screaming and the words from the nurse "The doctor is here and she's torn, and the baby is coming out!" and a mask was immediately put on my face to knock me out.
When I awoke, we had this beautiful baby boy. The boy we planned for and named after my husband. We both were so proud of this new baby. I was in the hospital 5 days, if I recall correctly. Back then they didn't send you home the day after the baby was born. They kept you several days - and sometimes we had to ask to get to go home! Our baby. We finally got to take him home. His older sister adored him. And life with a newborn began.
Fifty years later this baby has grown in to a man. Determined to do things his way, he often pushes everything and everyone out of his way. He is so smart, but often lets life get in his way. He loves, and pushes away. He is my baby boy, and I love him dearly. He is a product of his dad and I. A little bit of both of us. And a lot of himself.
I have prayed over this child many, many times. And I will continue to pray for him. Sometimes I don't know how to pray, so I just let the silence be my prayers. God knows my prayes, He knows my heart for this child. We dedicated and released our son to God many years ago. And I know God hold him in the palm of His hand.
So today, 50 years later, on Labor Day, I wish my son the very best birthday ever. And in my prayers, I pray that he will once again find Jesus. If all he has is Jesus, he has everything he needs for this life.
Father, on this special day, I pray that You will look upon the son you gave us, and be with him in all that he does. When he is dry and lonely, when he is tired and out of answers, and doesn't seen how he can get beyond things that trouble him, feeling lost and rudderless, I pray - by faith - that You will look down upon him and let him know how dearly he is loved by You, and by me. Thank You for being willing and able to make this wilderness he is in the next step in a new direction. I ask You will lead him through it and meet him on the other side. I pray that his eyes will be opened to how wonderful and loving You are, Lord. I pray that his heart and mind will seek you in this wilderness, and that he will find You. Only You can heal the pain that he holds within. Only You, Lord, can restore what the enemy has taken away. Only You, Lord, can walk with him. Please, Lord, I ask of You, to stay with him, love him, and keep him in the palm of Your hand. Safe and secure. In Jesus' name I ask, Amen.
Happy birthday, son. I pray you have a wonderful day, feeling loved, and being celebrated.
You are loved.
Mom
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