Jehovah's Witnesses do not celebrate Mother's Day. Don't ask me why. Some believe it has it's roots in "Pagan" rituals. Others believe that setting aside a day to thank your mother for everything that she does takes away time that should be for thanking god, thus making it "idol worship". I know. Pretty ridiculous, right? So, my entire life, I have never celebrated Mother's Day. I've never given my mom a card or flowers. I have never taken her out for breakfast on the second Sunday in May.
All of that changed for me three years ago. As 12:00AM Mother's Day, 2008, approached, my wife was approximately a little over 50 hours into labor. We had checked into the Women's Hospital in Albuquerque just before 10:00PM on Thursday night, and, between the two of us, had gotten maybe an hour of sleep between then and now. We had seen probably 20 episodes of 'The X-Files' by then. We really weren't fans of the show, but overnight, that, and 'The Chronicles of Riddick' were the only two things that were on TV.
At about 1:00AM, my wife's heartbeat started to flutter. They sent in a tech to compete an EKG. At this point, she already had probably a dozen wires and tubes hooked up to her. The tech had a difficult time trying to figure out how to get around everything and get to her chest with her hospital gown tied up the way that it was. He was a little inexperienced, to say the least. Finally, he realized that the arm holes unsnapped and pulled away, so he unsnapped the three buttons on the arm and pulled the right side of the gown away to expose my wife's cleavage.
"Niiiiiiice."
He then demonstrated how the word "dude" can be a stand alone sentence, yet mean a number of different things.
"Dude!" (You misunderstood me. I was not saying, "Nice cleavage." I was saying, "It's nice that I found a way to access the area for the procedure.")
"Dude." (I am so sorry, sir. I was not making a pass at your wife.)
"Dude." (Please do not kick my ass.)
"Dude?" (Are we cool?)
Three hours later, at 4:35AM, our daughter was born. It was the best Mother's Day present my wife could have. It sure beat any Hallmark card or any bouquet of flowers I could have given her. In case you were wondering, I still gave her a card.
My wife had a rough delivery. I couldn't have been more proud of her. She was stronger than I ever would have imagined. Since her water broke almost 48 hours earlier, she had developed an infection. Our daughter was also born with pneumonia. My little girl was in the NICU for 8 days, while my wife was hospitalized for 3 days following the delivery. Unfortunately, she was not able to see Lennon until the following day. The nurses in the NICU took Lennon's picture and had it framed as a Mother's Day present for my wife. Looking back at the photo today, it's hard to imagine that our little girl is the same one that was hooked up to the monitors under the blue lamps. That today, she's walking up to everyone in the house, hugging them, and saying, "Happy Mother's Day". Wow. Has it been three years already?
Mother's Day will always hold a special place in my heart. Oddly enough, for the rest of my life, when I think of that day, my own mother will likely be the last woman I think of...if I even think of her at all.
All of that changed for me three years ago. As 12:00AM Mother's Day, 2008, approached, my wife was approximately a little over 50 hours into labor. We had checked into the Women's Hospital in Albuquerque just before 10:00PM on Thursday night, and, between the two of us, had gotten maybe an hour of sleep between then and now. We had seen probably 20 episodes of 'The X-Files' by then. We really weren't fans of the show, but overnight, that, and 'The Chronicles of Riddick' were the only two things that were on TV.
At about 1:00AM, my wife's heartbeat started to flutter. They sent in a tech to compete an EKG. At this point, she already had probably a dozen wires and tubes hooked up to her. The tech had a difficult time trying to figure out how to get around everything and get to her chest with her hospital gown tied up the way that it was. He was a little inexperienced, to say the least. Finally, he realized that the arm holes unsnapped and pulled away, so he unsnapped the three buttons on the arm and pulled the right side of the gown away to expose my wife's cleavage.
"Niiiiiiice."
He then demonstrated how the word "dude" can be a stand alone sentence, yet mean a number of different things.
"Dude!" (You misunderstood me. I was not saying, "Nice cleavage." I was saying, "It's nice that I found a way to access the area for the procedure.")
"Dude." (I am so sorry, sir. I was not making a pass at your wife.)
"Dude." (Please do not kick my ass.)
"Dude?" (Are we cool?)
Three hours later, at 4:35AM, our daughter was born. It was the best Mother's Day present my wife could have. It sure beat any Hallmark card or any bouquet of flowers I could have given her. In case you were wondering, I still gave her a card.
My wife had a rough delivery. I couldn't have been more proud of her. She was stronger than I ever would have imagined. Since her water broke almost 48 hours earlier, she had developed an infection. Our daughter was also born with pneumonia. My little girl was in the NICU for 8 days, while my wife was hospitalized for 3 days following the delivery. Unfortunately, she was not able to see Lennon until the following day. The nurses in the NICU took Lennon's picture and had it framed as a Mother's Day present for my wife. Looking back at the photo today, it's hard to imagine that our little girl is the same one that was hooked up to the monitors under the blue lamps. That today, she's walking up to everyone in the house, hugging them, and saying, "Happy Mother's Day". Wow. Has it been three years already?
Mother's Day will always hold a special place in my heart. Oddly enough, for the rest of my life, when I think of that day, my own mother will likely be the last woman I think of...if I even think of her at all.
2 comments:
Mother's Day is a little bittersweet for me. It's totally wonderful being my daughter's mom, and she and my husband make it a really special day for me. But as we are out and about, I see women my age who are clearly celebrating with their own mothers. That's when it gets a little sad.
It isn't that I miss my own mother, so much as that I miss not having the sort of relationship that many women have with their mothers. She and I never were close, even when I was trying to be a JW, so I don't believe we'd have been any better now. I sort of just wish I'd had a mother who would have been a lot better at it than she was.
I know what you mean. My mother has had a number of mental issues, as far back as I can remember. To say that it effected the way that I was raised would be an understatement. In a number of ways, I think she did the best she could with what she had, but I still wish things had been better.
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