Page Five - Fox and Quill, vol 3, issue 10, October 2008


 

A Mother's Love
By Essie Whittell of Kent

Tears welled in her eyes as Lucy grasped at the dainty baby dresses in the box of infant clothes. "I put a lot of work into these. I hope Pam likes them."

Her mother, Rosy, stood off to the side, wishing that she could wipe the tears from Lucy's hazel eyes. Her beautiful daughter, still recovering from childbirth, looked pale. Her long blonde hair hung about her shoulders. Rosy sighed, wondering what to say.

After a few moments, she lamely offered, "You might have another baby someday. You're only twenty-two."

"No, no," insisted Lucy. She sniffed and snatched a tissue. After a deep breath, she waved her hand in the air to dismiss her mother's words. "That experience is over. Once is enough. I nearly died!"

(Three years later, we would learn that her husband had told the doctor and nurses to hold their tongues. Indeed, Lucy did die—for an entire twenty minutes! Thank God for modern technology!)

The dainty dresses were gathered up and neatly folded into a bag. The lacy frills and delicate floral prints mocked Lucy's heartache. Rosy knew that her daughter had spent months working on the wardrobe.

"The sooner we delivered them to Pam, the better," Lucy insisted. "I needed no reminders of my lost dreams of having a baby girl." Lucy expressed her feelings about being lied to. "The ultrasound technician told me I was having a girl. I've been working night and day making all these baby dresses."

Rosy's heart ached for her daughter as Lucy fought fresh tears.

Lucy's best friend had a new baby girl. She felt happy for Pam. Yet, that inkling of hurt and envy filled her eyes right up until Lucy handed that bundle of baby dresses over to Pam. Her friend smiled warmly and thanked her, overwhelmed by the dozens of colorful dresses. "You really put a lot of work into these," Pam said.


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Lucy's dreams were put aside as she worried about her infant son. Post delivery problems put them both back into the hospital and she now wept openly in fear for her son's life. Her husband's blood type clashed with hers and their son suffered from jaundice for nearly a week before the medical team got it under control.

Rosy held her hand. "Remember, this is only temporary, love. He will be fine. Trust me."

With each month that passed, Lucy's yearning for a daughter became just another lost wish. Lucy adored her son; rejoiced in his first words, first steps and first everything.

"We take what fate dishes up and make the banquet truly our own. Pete's the light in his father's eyes. Everyone adores him. What more could I ask for than my darling, blue-eyed son?" Lucy often exclaimed.


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One night Rosy awoke from a dream, smiled and mused about the its importance. For two weeks, she patiently awaited Lucy's call. By now, Lucy's lived several hundred miles away and long-distance calls were expensive. The dream lingered in her memory, as fresh as ever. She could still see that dream as if it were a television rerun.

"Mom, I think that I'm pregnant," Lucy confessed, sounding excited, but a little anxious all at once. Giving birth had not been easy that first time. Rosy could hear all the mixed feelings roiling in Lucy's sighs between the words.



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"Yes, I know," she said, smugly smiling. "You will have a girl this time."

"How do you know?" Lucy gasped. "I've not even taken the pregnancy test yet! Let alone had it confirmed. I just made a doctor's appointment."

Rosy laughed, overjoyed by her trust in dreams. "Because I am your mother and I know everything," she teased.

Well! As you can imagine, Lucy did not take this statement lightly. "Yeah, right! I cannot believe this. How could you know?"

"Oh, a little dream told me," Rosy smugly replied. She chuckled, loving her daughter's chagrin. "Most important, your daughter will be born on my mother's 71st. birthday anniversary. The timing is perfect."

"No, no," Lucy would argue time and again as the next few months passed. "My baby is going to have her own birthday—not Grandma's."

The debate lasted right up until the dawn of the new great grandma's 71st. birthday anniversary. Lucy delivered a little after 9:35 A.M. on Emma's birthday. By 9:50 A.M., Lucy managed to convince the delivery nurse that she really must call her mother.

Rosy patiently awaited the call at her mother's home. At about the time Lucy entered the deliver room; Rosy awoke, and laid there smiling. Life is full of blessings, she mused as she read a romance novel.

"Now who could that be calling this early?" Rosy's brother asked.

"It's Lucy," Rosy said. "She's just had the baby."

"Yeah, right," Arvid said as he reached for the phone.

He grimly handed her the phone when his niece insisted that she must talk to Rosy. "You're spooky," he said.

"A mother just knows these things," Emma informed her son.

"You were right!" Lucy cried into the phone."

"Of course," Rosy replied. She cheerfully announced the birth of Lily to her staring family.


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Lily is now on the brink of becoming a woman at thirteen. Her long, golden childhood tresses are cut to a more manageable shoulder length. "No more pigtails for Lily!" grandma teases. Lily sits in the beauty salon chair, perm curlers in her golden hair. Mother and grandma smile, tease Lily; and take digital photos of the event. Lily blushes when Grandma tells her that she's lovely.

Lucy wipes at the tears welling in her eyes. Happy tears now express her deepest feelings. She picks up the bag of frilly dresses, jeans and T-shirts that Lucy needs for the new school year. This time the frills, lace, and floral prints will not be given to anyone but her darling daughter. Sometimes our very dearest wishes do come true.


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Essie is retired, living in senior housing with 99 friends. Essie dabbles in watercolor painting, needle arts and photography. She has worked as a freelance graphic designer, in food service, and sales. She loves to read and write. Essie attended nine different colleges over a thirty-year period to gain the formal knowledge that she wanted. She lives to learn and create.

Essie Whittell

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Read: Essie's Ghoulish Halloween Poem



Thanks Essie for the story... John Wolf

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