The waiting game: February 1985

Countdown to Kianna

Twenty, 19, 18, 17, 16 … Just two weeks and two days away from the Feb. 19 due date. I don’t doubt there are many people in my personal and professional circles who will be incredibly relieved when I can talk about something besides the impending arrival of Kianna Allene Brown, our first grandbaby. (Go ahead, admit it. You know who you are.)

I’m also surprised daily to know that others are now counting down with us. I had to pick up something from the Boone County Commission office on Thursday. I told the commission’s secretary, Monica Kuster, that I’d be by between 2 and 3 p.m.

I got sidetracked and didn’t show up until just after 4 p.m. By then, both Monica and public information officer/administrative assistant Michele Hall were convinced that Kianna had arrived (why else would I be late?). “No baby? Is there a baby? Did Kianna come?”

(Note: You’re going to meet Monica next week. She’s guest-posting Tuesday by sharing a love poem she wrote to her husband. There’s some exciting news about the poem and a certain song-writing contest. Tune in Tuesday!)

 

February 1985

The calendar chronicles the schedule and mileage of my labors as editor of the weekly Belle Banner and bi-vocational pastor of Mt. Zion Baptist Church. Kelly and I were both 21. And we were “expecting.”

That calendar page also has a baby countdown or, more accurately, a baby count up. Feb. 7 listed “Kelly to Dr., 1:30,” with “LaBoyer class, 7:30.” (I misspelled “LaBoya,” which was the method of birth we’d selected for both of our daughters. The LaBoya Method involved gently placing the baby in a warm bath immediately after birth. Sad to say we didn’t get photos of Kishia’s LaBoya bath, but we have several photos from Natasha’s LaBoya bath).

Feb. 10 was Kelly’s due date. Then 15 days passed as I marked the calendar with “still no baby” or simply “no baby.”

Check out Tuesday, Feb. 26: BABY!

As a side note, there’s one notation that’s a clear indication of the decade. Feb. 15. Besides paying a heating bill of $54, there’s this: “Breakdancers, 3:30 p.m.” As I recall, the only two students capable of breakdancing in our all-white, rural school put on an after-school demonstration.

Oh, baby.

Grandpa’s message to Kianna #21

I often knelt with your mommy, Kishia, to say a bedside prayer as part of our bedtime routine. Her little prayers were so sincere and sweet. And simple. (She taught me a lot about praying.) Kishia’s forehead pressed her praying hands into the side of the mattress.

One night, in the next breath after her “Amen,” Kishia sneezed and immediately lowered her face to the mattress, and softly whispered, ” ‘Scooze me, God.”

So, God apparently lived in the mattress. At least that was the premise for one or more sermons over the years.

But come to think of it, the innocence of your mommy’s courtesy to the Creator made God as real to me that night as He had ever been.

This is one of my all-time favorite photos. Our little lhasa apso puppy, Gizmo, with Kishia and my pretty wife Kelly. I’m guessing Kishia is 18 months to 2 years old here.

 

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