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This
is the Story…
Many of us have heard stories
about ourselves set in that time before the earliest memories
we are certain we recall. How does the hearing of an event remembered
for us impact our lives? I’m not sure, but this is a story
I heard from earliest childhood. I’ve retold it as I remember
my mother and father telling it.
You were born on August 3rd. When we brought
you home from the hospital, it was so hot we dressed you in a diaper
and an undershirt and put you in your baby bed. We had just drifted
off to sleep when you began to cry. Well, you were our baby, so
we tried to help you. You weren’t hungry; you didn’t
need your diaper changed, but you cried. We just held you, and then
you drifted back to sleep. We went back to bed and were just about
asleep when you began crying again. This went on all night.
You’d cry. One of us would get up, determine
you were not hungry and did not need your diaper changed. We would
hold you. You would drift off to sleep. We’d put you back
in your bed. We’d return to our bed. Just as we began to sleep,
you’d cry again.
We eventually decided you wanted to be held
because you always went back to sleep if we held you. But every
time we set you down and we tried to sleep, you’d cry.
We thought, “What’s wrong with
this baby? We can’t be holding this baby all the time? She’s
not even a week old; how can she already be so spoiled she wants
to be held all the time?” We didn’t know what was wrong,
but we couldn’t imagine how we had ended up with such a spoiled
baby.
This crying, holding, and no sleep for us
went on for your first three nights home. Then Mama Lillian (my
mama’s mama) came to visit. We told her our problem. She asked,
“How have you been dressing this baby for bed?”
And we told her, “In a diaper and an
undershirt.”
“Why this little baby’s cold,”
she said. “It’s August, so it may be hot to you, but
it is still colder than this baby is used to. This little girl is
just cold.” She dressed you in a flannel nightgown with flaps
that pulled down over your hands. That night you slept all through
the night, and you slept every night after that.
Why, you slept through the night sooner than
any of our later babies. You were such a good baby.
So, what is this story about?
This is the story of how my grandmother
shared her knowledge born of experience to help my parents
and me. It shows how important good grandparents can be.
This is the story of how my parents, though
smart people, were not smart enough to figure out that
the inside of a human body is much warmer than a hot, humid, upstairs,
no air conditioning August night in Kentucky.
This is the story of why, to
this very day, I am easily chilled.
This is the story which shows how fortunate
I was to have parents who loved me and struggled to meet
my needs even when they could not name the need they met –
instead of having parents who, thinking only of themselves, could
have silenced me for good.
This is the story that shows how I, as
their first child, along with my grandmother, helped teach
my parents how to be parents. This is a job done by every oldest
child, willingly or not.
This is the story of how I learned not
to bother people by asking for what I wanted so I would
not be considered spoiled.
This is the story of how, even before
time I can remember, I knew I must have my needs met. It
tells how I succeeded even though I could not clearly communicate
what my needs were.
This is the story of how, when it truly
matters, I am persistent and so are my parents. Perhaps
persistence can be inherited.
This is the story whose meaning
cannot be fixed. It changes and changes. Perhaps the meanings
of all our stories, whether heard or told, can become this fluid
when we allow ourselves to listen to them anew.
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Permissions:
Mary grants permission for the above article to be printed in newsletters
serving storytelling organizations. Reprints must include the entire
article and Mary's brief bio. In exchange, Mary expects to receive
a copy of the newsletter containing the published article. Mary
also gives permission for links to these articles to be posted on
other websites in exchange for notification that such a link has
been created. For all other uses, contact Mary for permission.
Brief Bio:
Mary Hamilton has earned her living telling stories and pondering
how the art of storytelling works since 1983. Learn more about
her
work at http://www.maryhamilton.info.
Contact her at mary@maryhamilton.info,
or 800-438-4390, or 65 Springhill Road, Frankfort, KY 40601-9211.
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Mary
Hamilton, Professional Storyteller
65 Springhill Road, Frankfort, KY 40601-9211
Phone & Fax: 1-800-438-4390
Email: mary@maryhamilton.info
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