[title subtitle=”WORDS Liesel Schmidt
IMAGE New Africa/Shutterstock”][/title]
My grandparents’ love story was like many from their time: They met and married quickly, never considering the many things that could go wrong after they exchanged their vows. They got along well and believed that love would be enough to see them through whatever came their way, even in the most challenging times. And in those moments—sometimes even years—when the love seemed lost, they soldiered on, never considering the alternative, always faithful to “Til death do us part” because it was expected.
The children they raised, however, didn’t quite have the same stories. There was divorce and infidelity and separation. There was an end to the love that withered marriage, even while the two people in it stayed. But my mother grew up determined to have a different kind of marriage than she’d seen around her, one that had true love, real love, the type of love that was selfless and enduring.
Unfortunately, it was finding that kind of love that was the hard part. And then, when she least expected it, she met my father.
Their romance found its unlikely beginning in the park, under the shade of an oak tree. It sounded so picturesque to hear her tell the story of how she met the man who would be her first true love, the young soul who seemed to understand and appreciate her more than anyone else she had ever encountered. And when she’d first met the handsome young officer wearing his dress uniform, she’d been struck by his serious demeanor, his straight bearing, and the respectful way he spoke to her. He was unlike anyone she’d ever known. She’d felt almost immediately that he would change her life forever.
Six months later, they were married in that same park, surrounded by blooming magnolia trees with only the pastor and a handful of friends to witness it all.
Six months after that, my father waved goodbye to my mother as he headed off to Saudi Arabia at the start of Operation Desert Shield.
It was the last time they ever saw each other.
**********
The air in the waiting room had that strange, sterile, stale smell that doctors’ waiting rooms always have. That indefinable, unmistakable scent that seems to be found nowhere else in nature. It was a smell that, today, was making it extremely difficult for Julie to breathe.
She tried to ignore it, to concentrate on the outdated, dog-eared magazine that seemed to have taken up permanent residency on the scarred wooden coffee table in the middle of the room. Words and pictures blurred together in front of her eyes as she tried to breathe.
In, out. In, out.
The chairs arranged around the perimeter of the small room were mostly unoccupied except for a few mothers with tiny children who had their focus swallowed as completely as juice from a brightly colored sippy cup. A shiny yellow plastic dump truck skittered across the worn industrial carpeting, stopping only when one of its oversized front wheels met the toe of her shiny red ballet shoe. She looked up, startled, to see the sheepish grin of a little boy. He crouched beside the table, a plump arm still outstretched after he released the toy. His bottom hovered only inches above the floor, his tiny little plaid shorts bunched up above skinned knees. Blue eyes sparkled mischievously in a chubby little face flushed from the exertion of play, while straw-colored whispers of hair fell across his forehead. Julie would have guessed him to be somewhere around two years old.
The tiny boy smiled again and giggled gleefully, rising from his crouch to run back to a toy box in the corner of the room. He leaned over the side of the plastic crate, nearly falling in as he rifled its contents, searching for something known only to him. His tiny shoes kicked the air happily. He reemerged, his chubby, dimpled fist wrapped around the thigh of a baby doll whose plastic body was dressed in nothing but a ragged disposable diaper. The boy looked at the doll in his hands, raising it so that he held it right-side up, clutching the baby to his chest. He stood there a moment, smiling sweetly, and took off at a run in Julie’s direction, his body bouncing madly with the awkward gait of a toddler.
Another squeal of delight escaped him as he neared, and finally, he slowed, stopping directly in front of her, his small form mere inches away. Julie thought for a moment that he might crawl into her lap.
Instead, he looked up at her, his bright blue eyes meeting hers. Still holding the baby doll, his hands reached out toward her and gently placed the doll in her lap. His cheeks swelled as his smile broadened, and he leaned closer. The little boy’s tiny hand fluttered forward until it rested, feather light, on the flat surface of Julie’s abdomen. He stilled, his eyes growing large and solemn.
Everything in the room stopped and slipped away, leaving only Julie and the little boy. There were no sounds aside from her heartbeat and measured breaths.
In, out. In, out.
The big blue eyes blinked.
“Baby.” It was a tiny word whispered by a small stranger, but it made Julie’s heart stop. The tiny boy in the waiting room could have never known the gravity of that one word.
Baby.
For him, it was a newly-learned sound associated with the shape and form of the toy he had just presented to Julie. He had no concept of the ache in Julie’s heart as she sat alone in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, no clue of the newly-formed life growing in her belly.
No one knew.
Not even she knew for sure. Not yet. Jack had been gone for just over two months when they had come with the news, the words they spoke to her as she stood in the cramped living room of their tiny apartment, drowning her in an ache that seemed impossible to survive.
But now, the tiny boy’s bright blue eyes seemed to know something no one else could.
Baby.
The little boy’s bright eyes searched hers, growing wide as his grin wavered. Those eyes, though, never left her face as he reached up and crawled into her lap. A small giggle slipped past his lips as he buried his face in her chest, and his chubby arms wrapped around her neck. Julie could smell the sweet scent of his skin, could feel his entire body move with each breath he took.
In, out. In, out.
“Michael, what are you doing? You know better than to run off like that,” a voice scolded.
Julie blinked through her tears to see the bewildered face of the young woman who stood before her, reaching out for the boy sitting on her lap. The mother’s blonde hair swept back in a ponytail, her son’s blue eyes mirrored her own. Julie noticed that the woman’s belly had the telltale swell of early pregnancy.
“Is he yours?” Julie asked, swiping at the unwelcome moisture on her cheeks.
“Yes, he is. I’m so sorry,” the woman replied, her voice a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. There was worry there, too––the worry of a mother who loved her child and feared for his safety.
“He likes to run off. I swear, he’ll just run up to anybody and start jabbering.” She shook her head, a frown darkening her lovely face. “Michael, come on now and leave this poor girl alone,” she instructed, taking her son’s little body in her arms. “I’m sorry he bothered you,” she said again.
Julie watched as the woman turned away. Looking down at the ring on her finger, she wished the man who had once worn its mate could be there for all the days to come.
In, out. In, out.
I miss you, Jack. You’re supposed to be here for this.
She closed her eyes and pictured his smiling face, suddenly realizing that she’d been right––he had changed her life forever.
