My dad
made me feel like a princess. He always
told me how much he and my mom wanted me.
He even dreamed about me before I was born. When my older sister was born, my mom had a lot of problem with her blood
clotting. She also had terrible varicose
veins. The doctor told her that she shouldn't have any more
children. At that time she had four kids,
three boys and one girl. A few years
after that, she had her veins stripped. I'm not even sure exactly what that means,
but at that time she asked if it might be safe to have another child. She was given the okay, and they had my older
brother.
Shortly
after that my dad had a dream. In his
dream he was holding a beautiful baby girl. The feelings accompanying the dream
were so intense he knew they would have another child and that it would be a
girl. Four years after the birth of
their fourth son, I was born. The kids
all went to school and told everyone they had a baby sister (no ultra sounds at
that time, of course). I came into the
world at about 3:30 in the afternoon, just as the kids were arriving home from
school. I loved to hear this story. It made me feel so special, but I think it made my younger sister Christine
(they always said she was their dividend) resent me a little, and maybe even
made her doubt they loved her as much.
She was always closer to my mom, but I adored my dad.
It's
interesting how different my memories of my parents are from the memories of some of my siblings. I don't know if I was just oblivious to some
things, or if birth order has something to do with it. Or, there is the possibility that I was
actually raised by different parents. I
know I'm an entirely different parent
with my youngest child than I was with my oldest. My little sister has told me that she
resented that my parents were so old when they raised her (my mom was nearly 42 when she was born).
One time in the store the sales lady asked her if she was having a good
time shopping with her grandma. I doubt
my mom even took offense, but it mortified Christine. She swore she'd never have a baby after she
was 39 (more on that later). I knew my
parents were a little older than my friends parents, but it never bothered me,
and I was only three years older than Christine.
There
was much to admire in my dad. He was a
scholar--always reading scriptures and history (I'm not sure he ever wasted his
time on a novel), he was a scientist. He
was a singer (not really, but he did walk around the house practicing his opera
all the time, until he got older). He
always told us stories of his childhood and his family. My dad was a great father. He helped me to develop faith in God, a love
of the scriptures and a desire to have a family of my own. Since I was second to the youngest out of
seven, he didn't do very well at teaching me how to work, I've had to learn
that on my own.
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