St. John Vianney

Contributor Valerie Moreno - An Unlikely Mother

 I sat in the back seat clasping my hands in my lap as the driver stopped me  in front of St. Elizabeth"s Clinic. "Here ya are," he said cheerfully. I  got out, paid the fare and felt a knot of uncertainty tighten in my mind as
 I climbed the steps, pushing open the thick double doors. It was March 8th, 1980 and I was here to find out if I was pregnant. 

  My body had convinced me I was with subtle and unexpected changes, so  this would be the "official" determination. After signing in, I sat in the crowded waiting room. There were pregnant women in all stages of maternity  and I wondered how they felt the first time coming here. Had they been excited, nervous, a little scared? I was all three as I rose when my name was called and maneuvered the long hallway with my white cane.   After explaining that I had some vision to the doctor, he examined me.  Though I asked him to tell me each step he was about to do, he remained silent. This made me more nervous, which turned to raw fear as he finished  and stepped back. "Well?" I sat up shakily as I waited for an answer.  Thick, pulsing seconds of silence had my heart thundering and a block of  ice breaking apart in my bloodstream. Something had to be wrong, I realized as he said "Excuse me" and left the room. Tears burned my eyes as I prayed  for strength. "Lord, I have never been great with other people's kids and  I'm scared, but, if there is a baby, it's part of You, Arnie and me and--"  I jumped as the door opened and doctor and a nurse came to the foot of the table. "What's going on?" I demanded. The doctor's face and voice was  grave. "You are pregnant," he stated. The joy that rushed through me broke across my face in a smile that made my cheeks hurt. "Oh, thank you, Lord!"  I reached for the nurse and hugged her, then the doctor. "You want to have > a baby?" he asked, sounding surprised and confused. "Of course! Can I use the phone? I've got to tell my husband!" "I'll show you out," the nurse laughed as I straightened my clothes and grabbed my purse and cane. "Thank you," I said to the flustered doctor. "Blind people can be terrific  parents!" Back in a cab, heading to Arnie's vending location, I knew the road ahead would be challenging and that, whatever awaited us, we would handle it together -- mom, dad, baby and our faith. I felt so alive and aware of the new little life inside me. It was my official first mother day.