Part 2… Becoming Parents

A year to the date of my nursing graduation, our firstborn son, Boyd Dale Christy, arrived.

The nurse laid him in my arms. I stared at him, amazed at the depth of my love for him thinking: “Did my mother love me this much?”

After being up with me all night while I was in labor, Boyd went to the waiting room while the baby was delivered. Easy-going and exhausted Boyd fell asleep

What joy when he was awakened to come meet his beautiful son with a crown of dark hair. Boyd had grown up in a chaotic childhood and my father died when I was a child. Our deepest desire was to create a family. With Little Boyd tenderly swaddled and safe in our care, our desire was fulfilled.

We were a family.

Boyd Dale’s arrival meant that Boyd’s draft status was changed. He was reclassified from 1-A to a paternity deferment, unlikely to be drafted. The cloud of fear surrounding being sent to fight in Vietnam was lifted. We could live the life we dreamed of.

Life was sweet and beautiful. We were optimistic, we were new parents and we were very much in love. He was the first grandchild for both sides of the family and happy to volunteer to babysit. We were happiest when the three of us were together.

We had a gold 1965 Mustang. Long before car seats were invented, we’d lay Little Boyd between us on the carpeted console and off we’d go. A bonus, Boyd would warm up the car for the baby, something he hadn’t ever done for me.

We drive to the houses of family or friends and spend hours together playing games and visiting. I remember a happy night with everyone sitting around on the floor playing Monopoly as our babies slept on their blankets on the floor near us.

My elderly grandparents lived nearby and I would take Boyd Dale to see them regularly. They would exclaim how strong and adorable he was. My grandfather had limited vision and he tried to position his great-grandson so he could see his face. Grandma, who had raised seven children, would give me advice about raising him. I loved anything she told me.

My life in 1967 with my little family felt safe. I felt untroubled by the world.