I was busy trying to finish painting to get the upstairs ready for the carpet layers the next morning when I heard Sheila call me down. She said we'd better start timing contractions and get ready to head to the hospital.
I remember like yesterday, a little later, driving down Cedar Avenue in the dark, my beautiful courageous Sheila hissing through another contraction beside me, and thinking: “Our lives are about to be forever changed.” We pulled off of Second Avenue/Martha Berry (what do you call that little section of road) to park at the emergency entrance to Floyd Hospital. We made our way across the parking lot, pausing often for Sheila to hug a car hood while she dealt with the next contraction.
Once into the labor and delivery rooms I witnessed the sweet bravery of Sheila Matthews Shaw as she worked to birth a baby, a process correctly labelled "labor". Brannon Shaw was born at 3:31 the next morning. I was privileged to hold her and bathe her with warm water.
I slept on the floor for a couple of hours once we got into a room, then had to rise and leave my beloved new baby and Sheila, to drive along city streets blurred by tears of joy, wonder, and exhaustion to meet our dear friend Cotton Franklin at the house, so we could finally get that upstairs straight enough for the carpet layers to do their job bright and early of the fourth of August 1983. (Thank you Cotton wherever you are!)
On this special day, 34 years later, Brannon is sharing a honeymoon, camping in the Rockies, with the son she has now joined to our little family, John Carlin.
What a blessing to our lives Brannon has been.
Happy Birthday and unending love to our first baby, Brannon Ruth Shaw Carlin.
(This slide show is a decade old now!)
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