My Little Rainy

Twenty four years ago, as I was waddling around our house in Highland, Utah, feeling slightly sick and a little sore, I wondered what kind of baby I was carrying in my giant belly. Was it a boy or a girl? Fat, skinny, long, short, blond hair, brown hair, curly hair, straight hair. What would it be? I went to bed feeling like I was ready to meet this little child sometime soon.

The very next morning, I woke up to labor cramps and back pain. I shuffled around the house, kept Dan home from school and finally, called the doctor. He told us to go to the hospital and he would meet us there. Sure enough, they were real contractions, they were strong and steady and meant business. They put me in a bed, I called Joan (my mom) to tell her the news, and for the rest of the day we waited patiently for our little bundle of joy.

Finally, about 6:00 pm, the nurse came in to check me, scratched my amniotic sac with her fingernail, bursting it and letting a flood of water onto the plastic sheets, and it wasn't 5 minutes before I started pushing. No medication, no IV, no nothing and I am not saying this to sound brave, it is just that I was more afraid of any of those other things than I was of pain.

First, a head, covered with wet dark hair. Then, the slim little shoulders, one at a time. White, creamy, muscular. Then, in a rush, the rest of our beautiful, perfect, little girl. For the first of so many times, she turned around and looked right at me. It seemed that her crystal blue eyes were looking right to my very soul.

It was at this exact point in time that Joan came through the door in her school dress with her pink sweater. She had taught school in California that day, got on a flight at 3:30 and landed in time to be driven straight to the hospital by my brother-in-law Trent.

"Oooohhh, oooohhhh, she's beautiful", Joan cooed while giving me a hug, "Look at her long, perfectly shaped fingers. And all that dark hair."

I was still recovering from the shock that I had a little girl. Of my very own. A little friend to dress up and play house with and read fairy tales to and play school with. Plus, when you are in a stressful spot, the very person you want to see walking in that door is your mother! And she had miraculously appeared. Hormones, fatigue, relief, joy. I was a little overwhelmed at the time.

My mother continued by saying, "Wow, she looks a lot like my little Lorraine." At which point we both started crying like babies. My mother's Lorraine is my little sister, born right after me and Kelley and who only lived three days. She was born with a heart problem and in those old days, medicine had not advanced enough to save her life. We grew up visiting her grave occasionally, celebrating her birthday with a small conversation of remembrance, always knowing that in Heaven we had a sister that we would meet someday.

I choked out, "I have always loved that name. Would you mind if I named my baby girl Lorraine?"

So that is how it happened. My Lorraine is as strong, steady and means as much business as those contractions she was responsible for 24 years ago. I have laughed, cried, prayed and fought over Lorraine and I have been happy to do it. I can't imagine my life without her and couldn't be prouder of the grown-up girl she has become.

Now she has a little girl of her own to dress up, play house with, read fairy tales to and play school with.

Happy Birthday Lorraine!