It’s A Girl!!!

I was born at 5:45 p.m. on Wednesday, October 13, 1965 to O.R. And Phyllis. My patchwork had begun. I probably would have been born at home if my Mom had not had an appointment with her doctor at 3:30! She had been in labor all day, but just thought it was gas! 🤣

I was the apple of my Mom’s eye. My grandparents thought I was the best thing ever. As for my biological father, O.R., I wasn’t even on his radar. From this point forward, O.R. will be referred to as the sperm donor. He was at this point in my little new life, an alcoholic. I’m still not sure how he and my sweet Southern Baptist Mom ever got together, let alone married and had me. I’ve never cared enough about him to even ask my Mom.

Mom worked as a bookkeeper at the local bank in our tiny town on central Oklahoma. The sperm donor, worked at a gas station and as a mechanic. When I was born, we had a small rent house. That’s the house I came home to. I have no memory of it. We moved into a new home before I was a year old. This is the house I remember. We left this house when I was seven to move to Georgia. That’s a story for another post.

I loved that little house on Madison Street. It was just perfect and cozy, until it wasn’t. It wasn’t one night in the summer of 1967. I wasn’t 2 yet, but I remember waking up to the sperm donor yelling and throwing things. I remember hearing my Mom begging him to be quiet so he didn’t wake me. I remember him yelling more then hearing a door slam and all was quiet. I didn’t cry that night. I think I knew deep in my little soul that if I had, that cry would’ve only made things worse. From this point on the sperm donor wasn’t there too much, especially while I was awake. The last true memory I have of him in that house is why I don’t like surprises to this day. He surprised me by popping out from behind a door. I wasn’t 2 yet. I hadn’t seen him for quite a while and I was startled. I began to cry. He tried to grab me. I still remember the smell of cigarette smoke and beer on his breath. I ran to my Mom. She picked me up to try to comfort me. I will never forget him saying, “I hate that she always chooses you! I am her father and she should want me!” He was angry. I had never seen his anger with my own eyes, I had only heard it. The anger scared me even more and I cried harder. There was no stopping it. He was in a rage. Mom was taking me to my room in the hopes that I would calm down. As we passed him, he tried to grab us. Thankfully he missed. That made him even more enraged. He picked up the closest thing, my little wooden rocking chair that had been made by my Grandpa, and threw it in our direction. It hit the wall and crashed to the ground. We made it to my room. Mom moved my dresser in front of the door. She was smart. She put it in the space crooked, so that if he open the door, it would jam and not move. Thinking about it now, I wonder if she had been thinking about this for a while. Probably. The next we heard was the front door slam and his car left. We stayed in my room for a while just hugging each other. My patchwork had been pulled apart.

I remember Mom on the phone. The next thing I knew my Grandpa and Granny were at the house. Granny entertained me while Mom and Grandpa worked on the front door and the back door. I’ve since learned they were changing the locks. We packed some clothes and went to spend a few nights at Granny and Grandpa’s. I loved these two so much. They are a story for another day.

I don’t know what happened when the sperm donor found out about the locks. I don’t know how he was told about the divorce. I just know that I wasn’t around. I remember my Aunt Peggy, Mom’s baby sister, coming from New York. My Uncle Jack, her husband was in the Army and they were stationed there. They are a huge part of my patchwork and I will share about them at some point. Peg was home for a couple of weeks. She stayed at our house most of that time. She and Mom had lots of talks. I don’t remember the specifics, but I remember Peg telling my Mom she was so proud of her. My little self felt proud of her too, though I had no idea why…I just wanted to be like my sweet Aunt Peggy. I remember crying with my Mom when Peg left to go back to NY.

Our life was a simple one. Mom continued to work at the bank. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents and my much beloved babysitter, Bernice. If I was with my grandparents, Mom would come there for her lunch break. I loved seeing her during the middle of the day. If I was with Bernice, Mom would go to our house on Madison Street to do chores so that in the evening we could play or watch TV or just be together. I had no idea how difficult those days were for her until I was older. She kept all those struggles to herself, as any good Mom would do. I was living my best life…or so I thought. I had all I needed and many of the things I wanted.

You may be wondering about the sperm donor. He wasn’t much of a problem for us. He was very busy with his many girlfriends. He only caused issues, if he thought Mom might have gone on a date. Honestly, she wasn’t interested, but did go out with a couple of guys…first dates…only. She had been burned and wanted to focus on me and making sure I was ok. Thanks, Mom! If the sperm donor thought Mom has been dating, he demanded to see me. Not that he cared about me. He knew it would upset me and Mom. Thankfully most of the time he was a no show to pick me up. Occasionally he would actually pick me up and take me to his Mother’s house. The place was so smokey. I remember running through the door, across the living room floor and diving onto the couch. There I would stand the entire time I was there. Why, you ask? There was an evil chihuahua. That dog hated me. I can honestly say the feeling was mutual. The sperm donor never tried to engage with me while I was there. He would usually disappear into a bedroom and emerge to return me home. Fun times!

We lived our lives, just the two of us until our future came along. Our future was named Mike. Mom was set up on a blind double date with Mike. Mom’s friends, Raymond and Zoe, set the deal up. They had told Mom what a fantastic guy Mike was. He was new to Oklahoma. He had come from California. Mom was not impressed. Raymond and Zoe wouldn’t give up. They thought Phyllis and Mike were a match made in heaven. They weren’t wrong.

After that first date, Mike sent Mom some flowers. The bank girls were all buzzing about the possibility of a new romance for Phyllis! He called Mom that night to make sure the flowers had arrived at the bank, since he had no idea where we lived. I was about 5 years old at this point. I was blown away by whoever this Mike guy was, because for the first time in a very long time, my Mom was smiling and happy. Mike kept after Mom. She was a hard catch. Who could blame her? She had been hurt. She had a young daughter to think about. When she finally relented and went out with him again, I was at my grandparents. It was several months of dating until I got to meet this Mike guy.

The evening I met Mike, he arrived at our house with three things. Roses for Mom. Daisies for me. And a huge pot of his homemade spaghetti. That evening was so easy. Mike was the missing patchwork piece that I didn’t even know we were missing.

Several months later, Mike was at our little house. He and Mom had been talking, as usual…and I had been playing when Mike ask me to come into the living room and sit on the couch. They, well he, wanted to talk to me. I went and sat. Mom was sitting there, too. She was smiling ear to ear, so I knew this was a good talk. Before me on one knee was Mike. He said he loved my Mom. He said he loved me. He said he wanted to marry not only Mom, but me! He said that he understood that we were a package deal. He didn’t get one without the other. So, he asked if he could marry us! I remember the feeling of great joy. I told him, “YES! Can I please call you Daddy now?” He cried. Mom cried. I cried. We were complete.

Daisies are still my favorite flower. I call them happy flowers. Thanks, Daddy!