Thanksgiving week is here, and so it's time for a memory story that comes back to me every November. It's about a holiday when I was Grumpy Greta for a rather foolish reason, but there is a happy ending. Do you have any holiday birthdays in your family? Write about them for your Memory Book.
The Girl Who Has Birthday Cake and Pumpkin Pie
Thanksgiving of 1971 found us living with a bit of
uncertainty. I was expecting our youngest child, and the due date fell only 3
days after Thanksgiving. That meant we wouldn’t be traveling to either side of our
family for the holiday, and I also didn’t want to invite any of them to come to
our house in case the baby arrived early or, Heaven forbid, on Thanksgiving
Day. I had visions of stuffing the turkey while timing contractions. No, that
would not work.
My husband suggested we go out for dinner to a lovely
restaurant about 15 miles north of our town. “It’ll be nice for the three of us
to have dinner out on a holiday for a change.” I wasn’t convinced but knew it
was probably the best solution.
Thanksgiving Day arrived, and our house had no good smells
coming from the kitchen. No roasting turkey scented the air. I couldn’t detect
any cinnamon and pumpkin from the pies either, for there were none. It didn’t
feel right, and besides that, we would not be with any of our family. It made
me sad, and as the day progressed, my sadness swelled almost in proportion to
the great mound of stomach that let the world know we’d soon be parents again.
I helped Kirk get dressed. He was three and a half but still
liked help from Mommy. I wished a little of his excitement would transfer to
me. I tried to put on a cheerful front. No sense in ruining the day for my
husband or son. I managed to do that until we walked into the restaurant, which
had once been a Victorian home. Elegant furnishings, crystal, china and linens
on the tables, along with Thanksgiving centerpieces should have been the first
thing I noticed. Instead, I saw only the many people either eating or getting
ready to eat. Still holding Kirk’s hand, I turned to my husband and said, “What
are all these people doing here? They should be eating at home!” Obviously, my
vision centered on only one thing that day.
The hostess escorted us to our table, and we had a sumptuous
meal. I think Kirk and Ken enjoyed it more than I, since the baby chose that
time to practice somersaults so it was hard for me to concentrate on the fine
food on my plate.
The next day, there were no Thanksgiving leftovers at our
house, and the day progressed like any normal Friday. I stayed home all day, no
Christmas shopping like other Thanksgiving week-ends. And the sadness of the
day before refused to disappear. It enveloped me from head to toe. Pregnant
women are known to be emotional, and I surely was all that holiday week.
In bed that night, I lay awake a long time thinking about
the new baby. We’d lost both our first and third babies when they were still
infants, so there was a little anxiety mixed in with the hope of having a
healthy baby this time, just like Kirk had been. I’d felt very positive all
through this pregnancy, but a tiny bit of fear still lingered. My nightly
prayer centered on having a healthy baby, boy or girl didn’t matter.
Shortly before 2
a.m. a strong contraction woke me. I slipped out of bed, not
wanting to wake Ken until I knew I was really in labor. By 2:30 , I knew it was for real, and Ken was up
and dressed. He scooped our sleeping little boy into a blanket and placed him
in my arms in the front seat of the car. Good friends, alerted by a phone call,
were waiting as we pulled into their driveway to deliver Kirk into their care.
Then it was on to the hospital in the darkest part of night. It began to snow
as we made our way through quiet streets.
Karen was born later that morning. When I held my baby girl
with her small amount of golden hair and big blue eyes, all the sadness and
grumpy behavior of the earlier few days melted away. Suddenly, it didn’t matter
that we’d not seen our families on Thanksgiving Day. It didn’t matter that we’d
eaten a holiday dinner in a restaurant and didn’t have any savory leftovers the
next day. All that mattered lay in my arms—a healthy and beautiful baby girl
for us to love.
Some years, Karen’s birthday falls on Thanksgiving Day. So,
we have birthday cake and pumpkin pie at our Thanksgiving dinner. Even when the
birthday falls on a day prior to or after the holiday, we still have birthday
cake and pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving as that is when we come together as a
family. When she blows out the candles on her birthday cake, I think back to
that Thanksgiving so long ago when I created my own problem and the great joy I
received only two days later.
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