"My Story…" Monday: Calling Home


My husband dropped me off at our house way out in the country. I had no close neighbors and it was eerily quiet there. My son fell easily asleep and Daddy put him in his crib before heading back out. Before he left me, he told me, “Call me in the morning and I’ll come home- you can’t be lifting him out of the crib. He’s almost 30 pounds. The doctor said you should at least take it a little easy…” I nodded, kissed him, and locked the door behind him.

Then I called my parents.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of our bed, I dialed home. My mom answered. I told her about my father-in-law… that things weren’t looking good. That, barring a near-miracle, he wasn’t likely to come out of the coma and the doctors weren’t seeing the kind of brain activity they wanted. I had no time-line on what was happening, but I knew things were not looking up. I asked for her (and my dad’s) prayers for him.

After filling her in on that situation, I told her I needed to ask for more prayers. For me this time…

“I need to ask you to say a few prayers for me too, Mom…”

“Why??? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… well, I was… no, I AM pregnant. Almost six weeks.”

“You ARE?”

Let me stop right here and tell you all this: Since I got pregnant with my second child when first was only five months old, I was always scared to tell people. And, over time, I’ve dealt with a whole lot of “You DO know how that happens don’t you?” And I was afraid to tell my parents. I thought they’d think I was ridiculous, crazy, and irresponsible.

But my mom’s “You ARE?” was filled with excitement. Joy. Anticipation. There was not one bit of judgment or derision in her tone. I let out a breath and cried tears of relief. I told her what the doctor said and that we would know more in two days. I could feel her love and support over the line as we said our goodbyes.

I drifted into a heavy, though fitful, sleep, my phone clenched in my hand just in case it rang. It didn’t.

I woke just before six and dialed my sister-in-law’s cell phone number (neither my husband nor I had cells at the time)…

She answered and sounded like she had a very bad cold.

“He’s already on his way home to get you,” she said, “He left about five minutes ago.”

“Oh, okay… Well, how are you?”

“Well, you know, as good as can be expected considering…”

And we disconnected.

I wouldn’t learn what had actually happened until my husband arrived a half hour later. I’ll tell you about that next time.

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“My Story…” Monday: Calling Home


My husband dropped me off at our house way out in the country. I had no close neighbors and it was eerily quiet there. My son fell easily asleep and Daddy put him in his crib before heading back out. Before he left me, he told me, “Call me in the morning and I’ll come home- you can’t be lifting him out of the crib. He’s almost 30 pounds. The doctor said you should at least take it a little easy…” I nodded, kissed him, and locked the door behind him.

Then I called my parents.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of our bed, I dialed home. My mom answered. I told her about my father-in-law… that things weren’t looking good. That, barring a near-miracle, he wasn’t likely to come out of the coma and the doctors weren’t seeing the kind of brain activity they wanted. I had no time-line on what was happening, but I knew things were not looking up. I asked for her (and my dad’s) prayers for him.

After filling her in on that situation, I told her I needed to ask for more prayers. For me this time…

“I need to ask you to say a few prayers for me too, Mom…”

“Why??? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… well, I was… no, I AM pregnant. Almost six weeks.”

“You ARE?”

Let me stop right here and tell you all this: Since I got pregnant with my second child when first was only five months old, I was always scared to tell people. And, over time, I’ve dealt with a whole lot of “You DO know how that happens don’t you?” And I was afraid to tell my parents. I thought they’d think I was ridiculous, crazy, and irresponsible.

But my mom’s “You ARE?” was filled with excitement. Joy. Anticipation. There was not one bit of judgment or derision in her tone. I let out a breath and cried tears of relief. I told her what the doctor said and that we would know more in two days. I could feel her love and support over the line as we said our goodbyes.

I drifted into a heavy, though fitful, sleep, my phone clenched in my hand just in case it rang. It didn’t.

I woke just before six and dialed my sister-in-law’s cell phone number (neither my husband nor I had cells at the time)…

She answered and sounded like she had a very bad cold.

“He’s already on his way home to get you,” she said, “He left about five minutes ago.”

“Oh, okay… Well, how are you?”

“Well, you know, as good as can be expected considering…”

And we disconnected.

I wouldn’t learn what had actually happened until my husband arrived a half hour later. I’ll tell you about that next time.

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