~and she was my mother~

     62 years ago tonight, my mom and I were kind of busy.  She was somewhat preoccupied trying to deliver a little 5 pound baby and I, well I was the baby.  A lot of time has passed by since that Tuesday night long ago now.  Tomorrow is my birthday and even though it would be wonderful to celebrate it just one more time with my mom here alongside me, that shall never be the case again.

     She died in 2007 just a month before I turned 52 years old.

     I will forever remember how she told me the story of my birth.  I'd heard it so very many times over the years and surely I am glad that I paid attention to Mom's words.  Her remembrances of it all are tucked deep into my heart and any time that I wish to call those memories back, it's no trouble at all.  Knowing about the circumstances surrounding my birth provide a comforting feeling to me.

     I was the 6th kid out of 7 born to my parents.  Mom was already 35 years old by the time she got pregnant with me.  Back in those days I suppose that was considered quite old for having a child but even so, that would have never dissuaded Lois Scott from having a baby.  Even her 6th one.

     Mom went into labor the day before I was born and I'm sure that she probably figured child #6 wouldn't plan to wait as long as any of the others.  She told my dad it was time to get to the hospital over at Newton because the baby was on the way.  I cannot even imagine what that car ride would have been like.  We were living in the country between Halstead and Burrton, Kansas and the hospital was nearly 18 miles away.  I'm sure they wanted to get there before I surprised them in the car along 50 Highway.  So in the evening hours, off they went.

     When they got there, Mom's doctor was nowhere to be found.  The nurses called all over town trying to find him to no avail.  Meantime, I was getting in rather a bit of a hurry to get there and I would have come with or without a doctor.  It mattered not to me.   They finally traced him down in the late evening hours at the supper club where he and his wife had been drinking and dancing.  When it was apparent that he wouldn't be able to get there for awhile, the sweet Catholic sister who had been Mom's nurse through the 5 kids that came before me, offered Mom the best advice she could.

"You know Lois, we really don't even need him.  We've been through this together 5 times before."
     Not sure how much solace my mom took in Sister Marianna's words but when old Doc Schmidt came whistling down the hall half of an hour before I was born at 10:32 the next morning, I can only imagine my mom giving him a piece of her mind.  Mom said he just smiled at her, delivered me, spanked my bottom, and pronounced me a healthy little baby girl.

     My father gave me the name of Peggy Ann, honoring a family friend named Peggy Carter who lived in nearby Sedgwick, Kansas.  They brought me home and raised me up in a huge, hard working, and largely farming family.  While I might not have had all that I wanted, I always had more than I needed.  As a soon to be 62-year old woman, I now realize just how much Mom sacrificed in order that I might be given life.

     I have my mother's eyes, nose and smile.  She more than likely gave me her troublesome teeth while she was at it.  When I look in the mirror, she regularly peers back at me.  It's a little unnerving when you first realize it but I long ago stopped trying to deny it.  I come by it naturally because of one thing.

     She was my mother.