Sunday, January 9, 2011
And the Beat Goes On
She’s in the family way, preggers, has a bun in the oven, she’s with child. . . . . yes, boys and girls, my baby is knocked up! I’m Nana Foo. Miracle is due to arrive in July.
I’ve been trying to remember how to knit. But what keeps coming to mind is the look on the doctor’s face when she told me I “had a passenger.” This is the same doctor who told me I didn’t have much of a chance to conceive and less to carry full term. I keep remembering how huge I got and how my father would “moo” at me when walked in. I remember how my young husband and I naively took a backgammon board and a deck of cards to the hospital with us to pass time during labor and how I actually punched my doctor (yep, same doc) during labor. It was the only time I’ve ever hit anyone.. I still remember being in awe of my body making the perfect food for my perfect baby.
I can remember specific times and places when people told me: A) my baby looked like Winston Churchill, B) she looked like Alfred Hitchcock, C) I was starving her because all she got was breast milk. Thankfully, I remember my wonderful father-in-law, who was the closest thing to Marcus Welby in real life, telling me to choose one person and one book to listen to and disregard everyone else because everyone would feel free to tell me how to raise my baby. He was right as usual.
I remember playing roll the baby up, roll the baby down and singing, singing, singing to her. Sometimes I sang the books I read to her from about 6 month pregnant on. She never complained.
I remember drawing diagrams explaining how the tiny seed from the daddy beats the odds to hook up with the egg in the mommy and then continue a fantastically real journey from there to birth. And I remember the call from the Kindergarten teacher after she corrected her classmate when he told everyone the stork was going to bring him a baby brother or sister.
I was always in awe of her. I had no business having her. She is too perfect.
And gorgeous! No one has compared her with Winston Churchill for over 30 years. Yet she has been through some things that would give weaker people excuses. Those things have given her strength, grace, beauty and wisdom. And if I were going to grow up, I would want to be like her.
And dang if she’s not fixin’ to be a mom. What do you think about that?
I’ve been thinking about circles within circles within in the Big Circle. And I can draw all the diagrams I want in as much detail as possible and this is still a Miracle any ol’ way you want to define it.
And let me tell you it’s like I won the lottery without a ticket. I’ve been promoted to Queen of the Universe and I absolutely don’t deserve it. I’ve been elected president, and I didn’t even run for office. I won the Oscar and I’ve never even been in a movie.
I am Nana, hear me roar.
I want to thank all the people who helped me achieve this height. Dr. Korte, who got my baby girl here safely; Dr. Chatman, whose skill has helped my baby preserve fertility; my wonderful son-in-law Tim, who probably had a bit to do with this; my baby girl who is absolutely perfect, and Papa God the Universe who brought us all to this place and time, and who continues to make miracles daily.
And from here on, you may call me the Reverend Dr. Nana Foo, the most Blessed Person Alive.