Are You Sure She Is Mine?

Are You Sure She Is Mine?
By: Brenda Boyd

         We had tried for months and nothing. I just could not get pregnant. My sister-in-law got pregnant, which made me feel worse. Convinced that I could not have children, I quickly gave up fretting about it to concentrate on the chores of a farm wife. Being raised in an Air Force family, the farm life was new to me. I loved sipping my coffee as I looked out over the green pastures watching the calves frolic in grass topped with the sparkling morning dew. The sun beat down on the fields as we went about cutting the corn, harvesting the garden, and preparing the house for the upcoming winter. Every day we got up before dawn so that we could get an early start on the work that lay ahead of us. The corn had been cut and the stalks stacked in haystacks. The vegetables had all been pulled and the late season crop had been planted consisting of some corn and green beans. The tobacco was cut and stuck out in the field to dry before hanging to cure in the barn.

         It was a gradual process. Getting up before dawn grew harder and harder. After several hours working all I wanted was to take a nap. Each day it grew worse, I did not want to get up, but to sleep. When I did get up, I found myself wanting the strangest things to eat. I would head to the kitchen and grab a cucumber, wash it and peel and eat the entire thing, before my coffee. Strange, but it never clicked in my mind.

         All the tobacco had been hung in the barn, the crops gathered and the wood gathered for the winter. There was nothing left for me to do, but housework. My husband would go out and feed the cattle from the harvested corn and haystacks, often coming back to find me curled up sleeping near the fire to stay warm. One day when I tried to get up I was sick. Positive that it was the flu, I waited for the symptoms to show up – cough, running nose, and fever. Instead, the only symptom that showed up was more nausea, every time my feet hit the floor I was sick. What was wrong with me? All I wanted to do was sleep, because being awake meant being severely nauseous. My husband tried to make me eat, but I refused food. I lost track of time in mid November. Finally, able to put my feet on the floor without being nauseous, I was hungry, but only for soup. I had canned some soup with my Grannie and proceeded to eat a quart a day and there was only 7 quarts. What was wrong with me? Did I have a mysterious disease that was killing me like sleeping sickness or something?

         Christmas time was upon us and we went to my Grannies to spend some time with the family. My mother and my grandmother started grilling me because I had lost so much weight and looked sick. Finally, my mother asked me, could you be pregnant? Of course, I responded no. I could not get pregnant, having convinced myself that was the case. After a few more questions, the seed was planted and things began to register in my head – wanting to sleep all the time, nausea, and then weird cravings. Maybe. Could I be pregnant and not have a dread disease that I was dying from? Only a visit to a doctor would tell me.

         Sitting nervously in the chair, facing the doctor while he asked me routine questions suddenly a light came on. He asked me when my last cycle was and I had to count back. I had missed 3 cycles. My gracious, I was pregnant. After a quick visit it was confirmed. I was pregnant. Everyone was shocked, especially me. I spent the next 6 months planning for my new son. I was convinced it was a boy. No sonograms or tests were available back then. It was fun being pregnant with my sister-in-law. When she had her daughter in April, it gave me the opportunity to deal with a newborn. She was adorable. A cute little bundle with a round dimpled face, topped with blonde wispy hair. She had the biggest blue eyes that I had ever seen. The next three months passed with me learning to take care of her. When I went into labor early one Saturday morning it was scary and exciting at the same time.

         After being given the medication of the day – something to knock you out with laughing gas to follow during the actual delivery – I sunk into a zone of unawareness. I awoke to someone screaming “Oh God” and realized that I was having contractions one after the other and called for the nurse. The next thing I knew they were pulling my bed to the delivery room and putting me on the bed, strapping in my feet and hands and that was all I remember.

         The next thing I remember is seeing my husbands face and pink roses and his voice saying Thank You. I asked what the baby was and he said it was a girl. A girl? Not a boy? Oh well was she healthy? I could not wait to see her. Finally they brought a baby too me. The child was beautiful, full head of jet-black hair, olive skin, and dark eyes. This was clearly not my child. I had red hair and green eyes and my husband had black hair and blue eyes. Surely this was an Indian baby. Calling the nurse I asked “Are you sure she is mine?” She compared the bracelets and said, “She is yours”. I didn't understand how that could be, but as she nestled there in my arms, I touched her face, rubbed her hair, gazed into her gorgeous dark eyes, counted fingers and toes. As I caressed her hands, she gripped my fingers as she gripped my heart and we forged a bond that is stronger than steel and spans over the years, growing sweeter every day.