You know how certain moments are etched in your memory? Some are inconsequential with no particular significance, while others are turning points in this thing called life. Moments that take up residence in long-term memory are more often than not delivered and held there by an emotional response. One such moment, for me, built a bridge to honor strongest female roles in my life – and I didn’t even realize it at the time.
October 16, 2001, 8:30-ish pm
After 24 hours in a birthing room, the last eight being relegated to a bed with legs paralyzed by epidural, I found myself holding a 7 lb, 15 oz bundle who came into this world on her own schedule and terms (doctor’s predictions and labor-inducing drugs be damned). My husband and I chose not to know the sex of the baby prior to birth (this was back in days when a sonogram still left much to the imagination). We were delighted to welcome a girl, who along with her 4-year-old brother, rounded out our little family perfectly.
As the labor and delivery nurses still buzzed around me and the little one, with my husband beside the bed, my mother had stepped back from her post coaching me along on the other side of the bed. She took a seat in the corner of the room to give the nurses the space they needed to organize the chaos. The head nurse took the baby girl to examine, clean, weigh and measure her before swaddling the bright-eyed little one and passing her back to me as if handing out gifts from under the Christmas tree. As the nurse placed the baby in my arms, she asked my husband and I for the baby’s name. We had selected a name for a girl before her brother was born, so we’d known for years exactly what we’d say. We’d give her a name that was 100% her own. Then the “moment” happened.
I looked up directly to my mother. This woman who raised me along with my father. The woman who was my most significant role model. The one who taught me strength, courage, and grace by being a woman who embodied a fierce love for her family, quiet calm with a fiery spirit, resolute determination, strong character, acceptance, understanding, and compassion. This was the woman who had held my hand literally and figuratively for my entire life. Now I had a daughter’s hand to hold. Looking into my mother’s eyes, I knew that everything I wanted for my daughter was everything my mother was – and the best way to honor that was to give her my mother’s name.
Without consulting my husband on the change of plans, I blurted out to the nurse “Her name is Olivia Louise,” while still looking at my mother. Mom’s eyes began to well with tears as she said “What? Really?” in surprise (she’d known the name we had originally selected so this came as a complete shock to her – to all of us, really). My husband squeezed my hand with approval, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sudden name change. Mom was genuinely astounded and the pride showed on her face immediately as she held her new granddaughter and Louise namesake. In that moment, I was overtaken by my love for my mother and daughter and my desire to bridge our bonds across the generations. It may only have been a moment, but it is one I will cherish forever.
“Sit like a lady” is dedicated to my mom, Carroll Louise Overfelt. The one who taught me – and so many others – how to “sit like a lady and stand like a boss.” Mom passed away unexpectedly in 2018, one month before Olivia’s 17th birthday. As amazing as she was as a mother to four children, she was even more badass as a grandma, great-grandma and bonus mom to so many. Her legacy of love and light shines on in all of us.
Sit Like a Lady 