I was waiting for my time to give birth. I had a long wait.
Outside the door to my hospital room, in a convoy of babies
born that day, were being wheeled in their tiny, clear plastic
cribs on their way to the Nursery. They had just come from
being fed by their new mothers. I asked one of the two Nurses
in charge to stop for a minute as I had, out of the corner of
my eye, seen this absolutely gorgeous, cute, tiny little head
of wispy, black tufts of hair belonging to a most adorable
little baby girl. Oh my God, she was most beautiful baby I'd
ever seen. Huge dark pools for eyes. All dressed in pale pink
with pale blue ribbons. What a sight! I never forgot her. I
followed them right to the Nursery, and through the glass
watched silently at that one crib and never let my eyes wander.
A routine I would do every day after feeding time for Moms.
That evening in an emergency last minute turn of events, I
gave birth by C-Section to my son Iain Christopher at precisely
8:20 PM.
The years and decades passed and Iain grew into an interesting
adolescent with periwinkle, flashing blue eyes that could be used
as Stop lights, flaxen blond hair, with a wonderful smile that
somehow made him look like he was doing an imitation of Donald Duck
- that mouth of his! It was cute and always made me smile. He was
the most natively intelligent, gentle, quiet, somewhat reserved
young man, with a wonderful sense of humour. The sort of kid you
could sit down with and have a real conversation on any number of
subjects. Iain's insights were as startling as they could be
devastating in one so young.
Memorably he did have this one girlfriend when he was in his first
year of high school. Johanne Bergeron, a classmate, whom I always
called "Yohanee" much to his chagrin. "How's Yohanee?" I'd laugh.
"MOM! Stop that. Her name is JOHANNE, not "Yohanee"!", he'd reply in
frustration. "I don't know, sounds like Yohannee to me," I'd feign
Ignorance. "Well, just don't call her 'Yohannee' when she's here,
or I'll die of mortification." Johanne was a quiet, serious, smart,
tiny very cute brunette from an ultra Pentecostal family. How those
two happened forever remained a mystery to us. But we liked her.
Fast forward, Iain was by now in Toronto working full-time at his
job as a photographer and photo-journalist. He was sharing his
apartment with a girl. They'd been living together for some time. He
was totally smitten wih her...loved her to pieces. Very obviously a
"keeper". I teased them both, a lot. I liked her immediately. One
Easter when they came to Montreal for the week-end we were standing
in the kitchen and I asked her if she loved Iain and without any
hesitation she looked me straight in the eye and replied, "Yes, I
love him very much." I liked that she was so focused, more mature,
more stable, more of a lot of qualities and always felt and told Iain
that she was the best thing that ever happened to him. Out of Wendy's
presence I asked Iain the same question I'd posed to her, "Do you love
Wendy?" I needn't have asked. Together, they complemented each other
in every way. I was happy for both. They lived together for eight whole
years. I kidded Iain on his trips home about that too. "Honey," I'd say
to him, "living in sin are you? I know a little church up the street..."
The usual: "MOM....!"
It wasn't easy for them as they struggled with their lives together,
their careers, their hopes and dreams for the future. The love of Iain's
life was always Wendy. There had never was any girl in his life whom he
loved quite so much and with such dedication as to Wendy from the get-go.
Here's the kicker:
Iain and Wendy met each other in downtown Montreal quite by accident
when Iain was then age 16.
Wendy was born in Montreal, St. Mary's Hospital, May 7, 1963, 8:00AM
Iain was born in Montreal, St. Mary's Hospital, May 7, 1963, 8:20PM
Mother's day that year, fell on Sunday, May 9th - which was also my
21st birthday.
What kind of odds are those? The Fates would have it.
Iain and Wendy were married to each other, moved to Seattle, Washington,
and have two beautiful children - a girl: Bronwyn; a boy: Lucas
(pronounced "Luka).
They both have active careers, are wonderful parents who love their
children more than anything. I'm happy for them all. No parent could ask
for more.
Wendy still remains the sun, the moon and the stars around which his
world revolves.
Wonder what became of 'Yohannee'? ha ha ha...
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