I've always been quick to remind my sweet Shelby that her birth was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Long and painful and just plain hard.
True, she was round as a watermelon, so the old saying...
And she was late.
And I was tired before I even got started...
But I think, after all these years, I've finally figured out the real reason it was such an excruciating time for me. I've lingered long and hard over the agony of it all.
It wasn't you, Shelby.
It was Roman. And John. And Marlana.
And oh, Bo. Wild gorgeous Bo.
Let me try to explain.
Around my fifth month of pregnancy in 1991 I discovered Roman was not really dead but had been held captive on Stephano's island since the tragic day in 1984 that Stephano shot Roman and he fell off the cliff- only to die in his brother Bo's arms, with the ever beautiful Hope weeping in the sand.
And it was in a fit of rage and revenge that Bo ran to kill Stephano, leaving Roman's body to be swept away by the tide. Oh, Bo's guilt over the cruel twist of fate that was the tide!
And the pure devastation of it all as Marlana received the phone call of Roman's death. Life faded to black as she sat on her sofa curled into a ball grieving, phone still in her hand.
It was too much.
It was just too much my dear Bluebird.
And then, seven years later and me five months pregnant to discover all this time Roman was alive! Held captive by the diabolical ;) Stephano as the "pawn" John was living Roman's life. John loving Marlana back in Salem while Roman suffered in a cold cell.
I think the shock of it all just wouldn't let up. I couldn't move past it. I was so tired and post traumatic stress had set in and by January I was mentally and physically wiped out.
I was just a walking shell of a person when I delivered you.
And now, 24 years later, Bo's untimely death of a brain tumor brought on by years of his own torture in Stephano's prison forcing him to be apart from his Fancy Face has been an awakening for me. The blinders have fallen off my eyes and I can see clearly!
I apologize, my sweet Bluebird, for all these years believing it was YOU. I shall never tell the horror harrowing experience of your birth and what it did to me ever again to a single soul!
It was ME. It was my inability to cope with the sheer sadness of it all.
Forgive me, bluebird.
Love,
Mamie
And now my girls, you understand my generations obsession with soaps. You're welcome.
