Just Breathe ... a mother’s story
by
Honey Perkel
a memoir
JUST BREATHE ... a mother’s story
Copyright 2015 by Honey Perkel
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2568-9
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Some names and identifying details have been changed.
In Memory
of
Brian William Perkel ...
June 24, 1980 - August 13, 2011
“Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait to see you come of age
But I guess, we’ll both just have to be patient
‘Cause it’s a long way to go, a hard row to hoe.”
from “Beautiful Boy”
John Lennon, 1980
Books by HONEY PERKEL
A Thousand Summers trilogy: A Thousand Summers
Secrets at the Cove
A Place Called Paradise
Between Two Shores
Mystery: The House of Sand
Historical novel: The Faithful Daughter
A memoir: Just Breathe
I walked the floors when he was ill,
Caressed his face till he grew still,
Cradled him in my loving arms,
Prayed to the angels there’d come no harm.
I baked sugar cookies and birthday cakes
Sprinkled with candies, sweet for the take.
I made him laugh, read Peter Pan,
And chased away the Boogie Man.
But life steered us into disarray,
Shattering my angels day after day.
First trouble at home and then in school
Now he was in jail following their rules.
Baseball, piano, and school gave way
A troubled kid he soon portrayed.
Count them, nine therapists all in a row
Courtrooms and judges all came in tow.
I wiped his tears while I dried my own,
And then one day I stood alone.
There with his friends, strangers not a few,
Telling of a man I hardly knew.
Gone was the boy, his “demons” would cease.
He was flying with the angels, finally at peace.
written by Honey Perkel
I was standing in a sea of warmth among these strangers, the sun
bearing down on us at Overlook Park. Gazing across the hilly sprawl
of emerald grass and trees, my mind worked back to when this
story began. The summer of 1980 when Brian was born or maybe
before that. When I’d been another person. Innocent. Unaware.
Perhaps, the story really began in July of 1951 when I was born and
began to dream. Maybe then.
Chapter 1
It was all I ever wanted. To have the opportunity to become a mother like my own and the mother before her. To have babies. Lots of babies. But that was easier said than done.
As a little girl my dreams were not unlike that of others my age — to become a wife and mother. To experience the joy of watching my children grow and blossom. A continuation of my life.
It was easy for me to decide to become a mother for I knew from an early age I had the best one ever. Aside from being a beautiful woman inside and out, my mother took care of my father and me. She called herself the “chief cook and bottle washer”. She was also the family housekeeper, chauffeur, nurse, and teacher. She volunteered at school, was a member of PTA, head room mother, and Blue Bird leader. And she was my best friend.
Mom was my advocate as I was growing up — my protector, playmate, and warm blanket of security. She was my hero, and I adored her. Sometimes it seemed like it was the two of us against the world — or maybe just against my father.
My mom came from a family of brothers revered for their achievements in higher education and government positions. A physics professor. A dean of universities. An administrator. And an advisor appointed to Bonneville Power by the President of the United States. Authors in their fields. All four graduates of Reed College, a prestigious liberal arts university in Portland, Oregon, followed by graduate schools throughout the country. A lot to be proud of and brag about, though none of my uncles carried on an air of superiority. They were geniuses when it came to their careers. And though I was encouraged to follow similar paths — any career of my choosing, all I wanted was to take what my mother had given me and pass it on. That feeling of sheer love and warmth every child needs.
It hadn’t been in my plans to have three miscarriages along my elusive journey towards motherhood, however.
My first loss came on August ninth of 1977 when I was in my fifth month of pregnancy. After weeks of spotting, bouts of hemorrhaging, and doctor’s orders to remain in bed, I ended up in the hospital undergoing a D & C on the operating table. I was eager to get pregnant again. Surely I wouldn’t have another miscarriage.
The second loss came exactly one year to the day later. I woke up one morning in a pool of blood. Bob held me as we lay in bed that Wednesday morning. I cried and told him I couldn’t do this again.
“Just breathe,” he said, holding me closely. “Let’s just try one more time.”
But by now my attitude had changed. I’d became fearful and wary of my body. I felt I could no longer trust it to perform what it should’ve been born to do. It had never betrayed me before. Sure, I had the usual childhood diseases and illnesses. Even asthma, which I had outgrown by eighth grade. But now at twenty-seven, I questioned whether I was really all that strong and healthy. I was scared, vulnerable. Two miscarriages in twelve months. I didn’t want to try again. But the third time’s a charm, right? I got pregnant one more time.
Things were fine until one afternoon when I began to have pains. They were coming every four minutes when I called Bob at work and told him to come home. That pregnancy ended, too.
I was never given the reasons for those losses. Mother Nature just taking care of a bad situation, I was told.
Dream after dream died with every baby I lost. My heart was breaking, but still I remained steadfast and hopeful. Visualize your dreams, people told me over and over again. I clearly saw myself as a mother surrounded by happy and healthy children. Bob and I were good people. We had a lot to offer a child. There had to be a way for us