Today is my sixth birthday without my mother.  When my mother was living I would send her flowers.  It was more than my birthday ... it was my mother's birthing day.  My mother suffered unimaginable physical and emotional pain in order to carry me, bear me and raise me.  She didn't have to have me -- but she did.  She didn't have to keep me -- but she did.  I've always felt it was important to honor her ... I still do.  So, once again, I am going to pay homage to my mother.

Mama was a storyteller.  She told plenty of stories about my childhood.  Some of them were down right embarrassing.  There was one story that I never tired of hearing ... that's the story of my birth.

What follows is the story that my mother told me every year on my birthday, for fifty years, until her passing.

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She was still young but somehow she felt very old and tired.  She was only 32 but here she was abandoned by her husband with four small children - one born only hours ago.  She was alone in the hospital room.  The door to her room was closed and it made her feel more alone than ever.  It seemed to her that considering the circumstances there really wasn't much to look forward to on the other side of that door.  How was she going to make it alone with four babies?

She noticed that the window on the opposite side of the room was open.  A gentle breeze playfully blew the pale yellow curtains around.  All of a sudden she wanted to feel the breeze on her face.  She felt as if she needed it.  Maybe a breath of fresh air would give her a fresh outlook.  Maybe the feel of the cool air on her skin would bring her out of this dark fog she was in.

She sat up on the side of the bed.  Every inch of her body ached even though labor was short and delivery incredibly fast.  As she was coming up in the elevator to the maternity ward she just knew that the baby was going to drop out on the elevator floor.  She kept lamenting, "It's coming, the baby is coming!"  The elevator operator, just a young woman herself kept yelling back, "Hold it, hold it!"  She had always had a sense of humor and it came out even in times of distress.  She turned to the elevator operator, grabbed her by the lapel of her uniform and screamed in her face, "You hold it, I've been holding it for nine months!"  By the time they reached the maternity ward the elevator operator looked worse for the ride than the laboring mother did.

When the doors opened her sister helped her out of the elevator and started yelling, "We need help, the baby is coming NOW!!!!"  From out of nowhere came a nurse with a gurney followed by a herd of nurses and a doctor.  They put her on the gurney and rolled through the double doors of the delivery room.  Her sister told her that there had been a man just outside the delivery room smoking a cigarette and that the delivery was so quick that when the nurse came out to announce the arrival of the baby, he was smoking the same cigarette.  She wasn't sure if her sister was exaggerating but it had been the quickest and easiest delivery of all of the four.

She slipped off the bed but held on to steady herself.  Still holding on to the bed she stepped closer to the window.  All of a sudden she was even more tired than before.  She knew she didn't have the strength to get back in bed and wasn't sure she could make it to the chair by the window - she was too weak to even call out for help.

"Damn him!" she thought, "He should be here.  Why, why, why ..." she began to sob.  She didn't know why she was alone, why no one else was there - she didn't even know what day or time it was although there was daylight streaming through the window.  The window ....  she wanted so badly to make it to the window -- the breeze, the sunshine ... yes, they would rejuvenate her, elevate her mood and outlook.

With every step she took it became a little easier but still painful.  Finally she made it to the window.  With the last ounce of energy and strength she had left she opened the window wider.  The breeze rushed in and startled her.  She lifted her face letting the sun and the breeze play on her tear stained face.  Closing her eyes she breathed in the fresh air slowly as if it would somehow soothe her shattered heart - but it didn't.  The sadness was covering her and it was heavy ... so heavy.

She opened her eyes and began to contemplate if she should just sit in the chair or try to get back to the bed.  All she wanted to do was lay back down and sleep.  She thought to herself, "No wonder he left me - I can't even manage what I'm going to do in just a few minutes let alone manage a house, marriage and a family."  She was being hard on herself as she always was.  She was always striving to better herself but it was never enough for him.

He was a musician.  He was good at what he did.  He was olive complected, had smokey dark eyes and a smile that mesmerized plenty of women.  Yes, "the women" ... all his women.  She couldn't compete with those backstage hussies is what she thought but she wasn't aware of her own beauty -- he had broken her spirit, reigned in her confidence.  She could only imagine what her mother was going to say now, after she had warned her not to marry him.  But they had been high school sweethearts.  She had loved him all her life.  He had loved her like crazy once.  The tears sprang from her eyes of their own volition.

As she stood there hanging on to the window sill she looked down through her tears.  What floor was she on, she wondered?  The second floor?  The third floor?  Would a jump from the third or second floor kill her?  At that moment that thought took over and pushed everything else out of her head.  Yes, jump.  Jumping would put an end to all the pain and the humiliation.  Yes, jump.  She considered that perhaps a jump from this height wouldn't kill her - perhaps she should wait until she could make it to the roof - surely a jump from the hospital roof would end it.  But if she waited someone might guess and stop her somehow.  She thinks that if she leans out the window and falls head first it will break her neck or the head injury alone would kill her.  But what if she didn't fall head first?  What if she fell legs first and only broke her legs?  Then someone would have to take care of her and she'd be a burden.  No.  She knew burden - she didn't want to be a burden.  "Quit thinking about it, " she tells herself, "just do it, just jump."  She closes her eyes and began to lean out the window ...

The door to the room swings open causing a blast of air to blow through the window.  It startles her and she instinctively turned around.  The nurse in the crisp white uniform hurried over to her.  "Hope, what are you doing out of bed?  You should be resting!  Let's get you back in bed."  She's too weak to resist.  As the nurse helps her back to bed she begins to cry.  The nurse doesn't know she's crying because she missed her chance -- just like she messed up her marriage she messed up her only way out.  After tucking her in bed the nurse shivered.  "It's cold in here, dear.  Are you trying to catch you death?"  She half laughed through her tears and thought, "Umm hmmm, that's it, catch my death -- if only."  As the nurse closed the window the young woman continued to weep.

The door swung open again and brought with it a nurse carrying a bundle.  She handed the bundle to the first nurse and quietly exited the room.  "I have someone here who wants to see you."  the nurse says in a sing song voice.  "No" she said, "Not now, no."  "Oh c'mon" says the nurse, "how can you say no to this?  Everyone is saying she's the prettiest baby in the nursery."  The nurse placed the bundle on the womans chest and pulled back the blanket.

She looked down into her child's face ... a beautiful face.  Her complexion was olive, like her father's.  She had black tufts of hair, her eyes were wide and round and her nose was tiny and pointed up just a bit like an old shoe.  She felt something familiar - a little tug at her heart.  The child looked up at her and even though babies can't see very far when they're first born she felt as if this child was staring straight into her soul.  Yes, she was beautiful.  She folded back the blanket and counted ten fingers and ten toes.  The baby began to cry.  "It's a little chilly in here.  She may be cold."  The nurse said.  The young mother wrapped the blanket around the baby, brought the child up to her shoulder and began to pat the baby gently on her bottom.

The child quieted down.  The mother cradled the baby in her arms again so she could see her baby's face.  She wiped the tears from the baby's eyes and began to coo, "Yes, my darling.  Yes my baby girl.  Don't worry, Mommy isn't going anywhere.  Mommy won't leave you.  Don't worry, precious girl.  Mommy's here.  Mommy's here."  As she cooed to her child she knew that she could never ever leave this precious baby or any of her other three babies.  They needed her and she was going to find a way to take care of them.  She would show everyone - she was going to make it.  She was going to take care of her babies.  As she continued to coo the baby's eyes began to close.  The nurse tip-toed over and indicated that she would take her.  The young mother shook her head indicating she would like to hold her for a bit longer.

Another nurse entered the room. The nurse at the bedside put her fingers to her lips to stop the entering nurse and walked quietly to the door.  Both the nurses stood there for a second watching mother and child ... a touching sight.

As the nurses left the room and quietly closed the door behind them they hear the mother continue to coo, "Mommy's here.  Mommy's here."
Years later when the baby was able to understand, her mother told her about that day ... and how on that day she saved her mother's life.

That's how it happened June 20th, 1953 - the day after I was born.  As I sit here and remember my mother I can almost feel her arms around me and hear her whisper in my ear as she did that day and all her life, "Mommy's here.  Mommy's here" and I know that she is.


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I not only post this story every year but I read it as well, along with the rest of y'all.  It's important and reminds me that I am my mother's child ... therefore, even though she's no longer here with us, I'll never lose her ... Hope will live in my heart forever.

I know my mother is always with me ... but GOD! how I miss her!  I miss her so very much.  

Happy Birthing Day, Mama.  We struggled, you and I, but in the end all that mattered was the love.  Thank you for all you gave to me and continue to give me every single day.  I love you, Mama.