in the beginning
late
Dec 11th
Yesterday was my birthday. My mom did not talk to me. She didn’t bother to pick up the phone to call me to wish me a happy birthday.
She did write a blog entry (which I just found). So, here’s to my beginnings.
My daughter Dawn Maurie turned forty years old today, hard to believe, so I thought in honor of her day I would tell some of the story that led up to and how she was born.
Dawn’s daddy and I were going to be married on Feburary 12, 1966, on his 30 day leave before he went to his next duty station, but as guys sometimes do, he got cold feet. My sister in San Diego had lost her baby sitter so within a few days I was there living with her and her three little boys.
Charles and I stayed in touch, he called and we wrote letters. After a month or so I noticed I was gaining weight, and told my sister I thought I might be pregnant. I always wanted to be a mommy, I wanted six children as far back as I could remember.
I was thrilled, and could hardly wait, I wrote my Charlie a letter the night I found out, but did not tell him we had to get married, just the opposite, I told him that this was my baby and I was going to have it and keep it no matter what he decided to do, and I ment it, I think I still have the letter.
Probably a week or so later I got a call from a really drunk sailor crying and telling me he was going to be a daddy, and he would make arrangments for me to fly to Florida to be married. We were married, Charlie went out to sea and I went to Idaho to have our baby.
Six months later at about midnight or one a.m. I woke up Mom and told her I thought I was in labor, we sure hoped so because I was 2 weeks over due. I had decided to go to Sacred Heart Hospital, the catholic hospital in our town. My pains didn’t seem real bad but the nuns said I was in labor, and sent me to a room.
They gave me something for the pain so most of what I remember is pretty foggy. I remember Mom sitting beside the bed and rubbing my back when the pain radiated, she was so sweet. Mostly I just didn’t want to be touched, especially when the nuns and nurses would check to see how much I had dialated. Finally that morning the doctor showed up and told me it was getting close, wow, finally it seemed to take so long.
I had a paracervical block, which at the time was pretty new to birthing and still considered experimental, it was amazing because as soon as it takes effect the pain goes away. So at 1:36 in the afternoonon December 10, 1966 Dawn was born.They didn’t let ya watch then, and wisked my baby off so fast I hardly got to see her and didn’t see her until many hours later.
When I finally got to be with my little girl I really didn’t know what to do, she was so tiny, precious, and pretty, had all her fingers, all her toes blue eyes like her dad and a hint of red hair. Dawn nor I new how to nurse, we had a pretty hard start at it. The hospital was so regimented, I couldn’t get up and walk around like you can now, and the worst of it was we had to stay for five days because they didn’t know what kind of reactions we might get from the block.
We had decided to name her Dawn Marie, but she was to special for Marie so I added the u for Maurie. Dawn Maurie Armfield and her mom went home to Grandpa and Grandma Robinson’s until daddy came home in February.
Mom had my room ready with the bassenett next to my bed and my Dad was crazy about her as soon as he would get home from work he would start wiggling the bassenet and trying to wake her up so he could hold her.
Grandpa and Grandma Armfield with Connie, Steve and Tammy came between Christmas and New Years to see our new girl.
Well, those are Dawn’s beginnings, she couldn’t have been loved nor wanted more than her mommy loved and wanted her. Happy Birthday Punkin, I love you.
Sunday December 10, 2006 – 08:51pm (MST)
prenatal
Apr 18th
My parents met while they were still in their teens. Back when the world was awash in innocence and revolution all at once, they came together.
My father was a Navy man, stationed in Idaho (of all places), assigned to nuclear energy school. My mom was a local girl, whose father, uncles, and brother were all Navy men, also. My mom was a wild child. She was a party girl. She drank and smoked much younger than she should have. I'm guessing that is one of the things that attracted my dad to her. He was quiet, reserved, from a Colorado farming family.
They weren't married when I was conceived. It was a torrid affair.
I've read some of the letters that my mom wrote to my dad after he got shipped out and she found out she was pregnant. They are heartbreaking. A seventeen year-old-girl who didn't have any business having a child was trying to be strong and stand up for herself. My dad, barely nineteen, himself, was off trying to find his way in the world.
My mom had considered abortion. It was illegal back then and the only way to do it, somewhat safely, was to go to Mexico. I've heard that her sister offered to take her. I don't know if that's true or not but I do know that my mom wanted to be a mother and chose to have me after I popped into her life unexpectantly.
They married in June. I was born in December. I spent little time in my birth state of Idaho. From what I understand, I was carried off to Colorado to meet my grandparents. My grandfather, a redhead like me, was enchanted with his first granddaughter (and I, him). My grandmother, from the tales, was ambivalent, thinking that my mother tricked my dad into marriage.
We moved to the east where my dad was stationed. We lived in Charleston and Jacksonville (these are the only two places I know of – it could have been more). We weren't out there long – maybe 3 years at the most.
My first memory is of the duplex in Jacksonville. My brother, Todd, who was born in Jacksonville, was already a toddler. We were outside playing in the mud. We made mud pies and, I guess, they were full of fire ants. We did eat them (mmmm…protein!).
I remember hiding under my bed in that house. I had an imaginary friend that I talked to under the bed. I remember, one time, my mom bending down to find me under there, talking to my friend with me.
I remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen, below the sink. My mom was sitting next to me. Todd was climbing all over her. She was crying. She wasn't just crying, she was overwrought with tears. I started crying. Todd started crying.
She was overwhelmed. She was nineteen, 3000 miles from home, a husband away for 9 month stints, and she was alone, with two young kids. She was lonely. She was sad.
That memory still hurts my heart.
why, what, who?
Apr 16th
This site came into being when Sage said he’d like to know more about my childhood, growing up poor and overcoming that to make, what I would call, a successful life.
Some of it is difficult to write about, some funny, and some thoughtful or silly. It all depends on how I feel about the situation or what I’m thinking about while I write it.
I will try to be as honest as possible but I will admit that this is my truth. It cannot, nor will not, be the same as what my siblings experienced or what my parents experienced. We all saw it through different eyes and through different feelings. As the oldest child of four, my outlook was vastly different than those of my younger siblings. I will do my best to portray this as honestly as possible but it is possible that what I saw and what they saw were vastly different.
Why “White Trash Girl”? My younger brother jokes that we were white trash growing up and, deep inside, maybe we still are. I used the title for humor, for some look into what types of words we use to describe others, and to delve into those feelings of being “white trash” that may have residual effects.
I hope you enjoy the journey and I look forward to your insights.
