(A short, but true story)
When the time came for the family
meeting, I had a feeling I knew what it was going to be about and it wasn't
a happy feeling. We all sat down looking with wide eyes at Mom and
Dad as they finished up with, "...and so you're going to have another
brother or sister." AAAUUUUGH! I knew it! Before I could
stop them, the tears of frustration filled my eyes and the thoughts
came.
"Just Great! Number eight!"
"There's this new thing, Mom and Dad,
called BIRTH CONTROL – ever heard of it?"
"We just got this last one out of diapers!"
I felt guilty for those angry thoughts, but I was absolutely horrified at the prospect at another two years of dirty diapers and potty training. Not to mention the glorious mood swings Mom (and Dad too, for that matter), had with every pregnancy. Just another day in the life of the oldest child in a family of seven, soon to be eight, children. I really was not looking forward to having more dishes, more messes, more crying, more missing pacifiers, more laundry, more missing socks and shoes and those mysterious stains that appear on the church and school clothes we just KNOW were laid out and clean the night before. And vacations? What vacation? Sure, we went to sunny St. Augustine and stayed at the beach, but along with our family of seven (now eight) children, there were my Aunt and Uncle with their eight children. Needless to say, I did a lot more babysitting than relaxing! At seventeen, I thought I should be having fun and living the care-free life I thought everyone else had, so this was not a welcome addition to my life.
Well, after the initial shock wore off, there was a lot of planning. How would we rearrange the bedrooms? We were all hoping it would be a boy since there were only three of them and already four of us. What would the name be if it was a boy? What about girl names? Yes, by and by resentment and the selfish feelings gave way to a sort of resigned excitement at the prospect of yet another little bundle of joy. What would the new child be like? Would he or she be blonde like some of us were or brunette like the rest of the kids? Would we finally get one with blue eyes? Would the new baby be healthy? We all hoped so.
Finally, one morning, after nine long months ("Look out! Mood swing at twelve o'clock!") and two, yes two, false labors in one week, I went to school despite the false alarm we had in the wee small hours of that morning. I guess I had kind of decided that this baby was just going to stay in there so it was safe to go to school. Then, I received a message during first period – "It's a girl, Mary Hannah Elizabeth – weight: 8 lbs 2 oz., length: 23 inches." I was on cloud nine! It all became so much more real to me when I got home. When I held her in my arms for the first time and looked into her beautiful brown eyes I thought, "She's here, really here!" My whole attitude seemed to change. Hooray, diapers and potty training! Now, she was here, really here! Here was this little (well, I guess with those dimensions, she wasn't all that little) bundle of joy with her whole life ahead of her just waiting to be lived. Mary Hannah Elizabeth. Why, even her very name was absolutely musical! She had a full head of curly chestnut hair and boy, was she long! I had never seen such a tall newborn. Of course I may have been a little partial, but I was just sure that she was the most beautiful baby ever born into any family. Way to go Mom and Dad! But, you know, come to think of it, I think these are probably the thoughts I had with the addition of each member of our family: Stephanie Carole, Sandra Louise, Webster Thomas, Jamie Marie Lynn, Jesse Sumner, Samuel Ara and finally, Mary Hannah Elizabeth. I know I certainly love them all and cannot imagine what my life would have been like without a single one of them.
Life is such a beautiful and precious gift. Where there was once only love, there is suddenly a completely and uniquely wonderful little human being developing and growing in its own safe little world. Then that moment comes when he or she is introduced to the outside the world, ready to start that journey we call life with all its heartaches and joys. The realization of that has a funny way of changing our perspective about things – what's really important and what is just trivial - even for a self-centered teenager - the oldest of eight.
-Jennifer Brooke Martin
June 18, 1998
Dedicated to my family
(2nd Prize winner in the Writer's E-zine "The Time Has Come" Short Story
Contest - 9/8/98)
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