Virginia Sophia Wiles Davis: An Outstanding Woman, A Fabulous Role-Model, and My Grandmother

When Chris and I were busy narrowing down names, there was one name I was clear on wanting for our child if it would be a girl--Virginia Sophia.  Chris wasn't sure and would not say "Sure, honey, if it is a girl, we will name her Virginia."  In some ways, I can't say as I blame him because it would mean actually naming the baby after someone and a someone he had never met.  However, when we were in the delivery room, soon after "meeting" our daughter for the first time, I asked Chris if he knew the name he wanted to give her.  He told me that we could go ahead and name her Virginia, or Ginny for short.  My heart sang.  I was beyond thrilled that I would be able to name our daughter after a woman who I admired and loved very much, my maternal grandmother.

My Grandma Davis was not an ordinary woman, although she would likely disagree with me if she were alive today.  She was an amazing, faith-filled, family-centered woman.  She loved God and her family beyond all else. Grandma was also a very strong woman.

My Grandma, Virginia Sophia Wiles Davis, June 1940

Virginia Sophia Wiles was born in 1922, an only child to Verne Franklin and his wife, my great-grandmother, Mary Elizabeth (Hazel) Haberstroh.  Grandma grew up in a middle-class (to upper middle class) family in the city of St. Louis.  In 1940, she married my Grandfather, Glen Franklin Davis.  Grandpa Davis was about as opposite as you can imagine in his background from my Grandma.  He was raised near Steelville, Missouri, a small town about 2 hours southwest of St. Louis, with 10 siblings.  His father was a farmer and life was tough.

My grandparents loved each other for the 56, nearly 57, years they were together.  They had 7 children, 4 boys and 3 girls.  My grandmother loved her large family!  However, it was not an easy life for either of them.  Grandpa Davis had health difficulties while they were raising their family. Money was definitely tight, especially when there came a time that Grandpa's health made it impossible for him to work.  So, my grandmother went to work as a social worker.  I'm sure that could not have been easy, particularly in the 60s. Despite that, family always came first.  That is something that carries on with each of her children--a love and desire to be connected as a whole family.

There seems to be one characteristic that each female in the family has inherited, in some form, from my grandmother.  We are all pretty darn direct.  My grandma would tell you as she saw it.  She didn't mince words.  Her daughters are like that, each in their own way.  Her granddaughters tend to carry on that tradition as well (granted, there are only 4 of us).  It has yet to be seen if her great-granddaughters will be that way too.

One more thing....Grandma loved God.  She was a God-fearing, God-loving, Southern Baptist woman of strong faith.  I imagine that helped her and my grandpa get through the tough times.  I'm sure it helped bring great joy during the good times too.

Grandma Virginia Davis & Grandpa when they renewed
their vows after 50 years of marriage in October 1990!

My Ginny was named after an amazing woman who was loved and adored by her family and those who knew her.  My hope is that my Ginny is a woman quite like her great-grandmother someday.

It is hard to fully put into words what my grandmother meant to me.  I still remember when she died, and how I felt like my world was forever changed somehow. I was not ready to lose her.  However, I'm sure she is smiling down from heaven watching over all of us still.

I love you, Grandma, and I miss you!

Loving Ginny

I knew that once we had a baby our lives would change forever.  In some ways that change was scary, but, yet, eagerly anticipated.  Now, I cannot imagine my life without Virginia (Ginny).  I love her beyond any measure.  She is the greatest treasure, blessing, and light in my life.

It isn't fair in some ways that a child never fully understands their parents' love for them until they become a parent themselves.  I loved Ginny before she was born, but that love grew by leaps and bounds once she was born.  The love for her continues to grow.  It is a love unlike any other I have ever felt.  My parents made sure to let me know they loved my sister and me, especially Mom (only because she is naturally more demonstrative...not because she loved us any more than Dad).  Even with all that love being "thrown" at us, while I loved (and still love) my parents, I did not realize how much they loved us until Ginny was born.

Ginny is a wonderful gift from God.  I am thankful every day for her....even when she is cranky or doesn't let me get much sleep.  I enjoy watching her learn and discover new things.  Her smiles light me up from the inside.  I laugh so much with her now. Just watching her enjoying a toy will have me laughing hysterically at times.

I even cry due to her.  If she is in pain and I can't fix it, I am in pain too...often with unshed tears in my eyes.  This past Thursday she went in for her 4 month check up.  She had some shots she had to get, and I found myself crying with her.  I hated hearing her in that much shock and pain.  It tore me up.  I knew she needed the vaccinations, but didn't like seeing her going from smiling up at the nurses to the sudden howl and tears.

My greatest worry in life is now Ginny.  I worry about her more than myself or anyone else I know.  After Ginny was born, it took a while for my milk to come in and Ginny lost 15 oz, over 15% of her body weight.  That was a cause of concern.  While some weight loss is normal (around 5-7%), she lost more than normal.  It took a little while for her to gain the weight back, but now she is super healthy and gaining like a champ.  At her appointment we found out that she is now 14 lbs. 6.5 oz. and 23 3/4 inches long. Just seeing those numbers made me beam!

From now until the end of my days, Ginny will fill my thoughts and life.  I couldn't be more grateful for her.  Loving Ginny is the best thing ever!

Family visits

I have moved about 24 times in my life thus far.  In my first 10 years of life, I moved 7 times.  My dad was active duty in the U.S. Air Force.  For our family, visits to and from family was quite rare--maybe once a year when we were actually stateside.  However, for nearly 6 of those 10 years we lived in Germany.  We did have family visit us a few times, but not repeated trips and nor once a year, for understandable reasons.

My dad went from active duty to the National Guard for a variety of reasons when I was 10.  We moved to the St. Louis area, where my mom's family lived.  It also was a 6 hour drive from my dad's parents who lived in Arkansas.  Obviously, we saw my mom's family ALL the time.  We did not see my Grandma and Grandpa Scott quite as often though--maybe 2-3 times a year.  In fact, my parents split the holidays and kept it consistent.  We saw Dad's parents on Thanksgiving, and spent Christmas with my mom's family.  It always seemed normal (oh, and we never did a separate Christmas celebration with my Dad's family).  As kids, I don't think I felt any differently about either sets of grandparents or cousins.  I loved them both equally! I also noticed that my parents loved both and enjoyed the time with whoever they spent time with.

What was nice, though, was that despite seeing one set of grandparents less frequently, there was no guilt placed on my parents or comparisons on the amount of time spent with one or another.  My grandparents understood the circumstances and knew that their kids and grandkids loved them and wouldn't forget them, ever.

Now, that I'm an adult, I still love and appreciate family visits!  Currently, my DH and I live in Illinois.  His parents live 5-6 hours away in Iowa, whereas my parents live 16 hours away in Florida.  For understandable reasons, we visit my parents a LOT less often than my in-laws.  In fact, we only go to Florida to visit my parents, sister and her family, once a calendar year.  That's it.  We go out to see my in-laws at least 4-5 times a year, typically.  So, since we've been married (2009), I've only gone out to Florida twice...once at Christmas in 2009 and last September/October (2010).  The hardest part of the distance for me is that I really miss my niece and nephew like crazy.  I spent a lot of time with them until I moved up here when my niece was 3 1/2 and my nephew 2.  It is wonderful, though, that I do get to spend time with my niece and nephew by marriage.  I love those two kids as well.

What has been nice, since I've been up here, is that my parents come to visit.  This is the first time in my adult years that my parents have come to visit regularly--more than once a year.  When I lived in Illinois the first time (from 98-00), my parents came up to St. Louis once for a visit and another time for my grandfather's funeral, but never made it up to Quincy.  Then, I lived in Murfreesboro, TN.  In my 2 years there, they only visited once.  It wasn't because they didn't want to, but at the time they were still working full-time and their schedule didn't allow for more frequent visits.  Back then, I would visit my parents twice a year. Now, I get to see my parents about 4-5 times a year between visits to us and our annual trek to Florida.

I love my family.  I enjoy family visits!  I always have!  I hope our Ginny enjoys them as well and the time she gets to spend with all her cousins, grandparents, and aunts and uncles.

Right now, we are anticipating a family visit.  My parents drove up from Florida with my niece Kendall and nephew Carson.  They spent a couple of days in St. Louis (Ginny & I joined them for one of those days) and now they will spend a couple of days with us!  I can't wait!  While I love my folks, I am most excited about spending time with Kendall and Carson!  Yipee!!

My Mom

This morning I was thinking about the relationship I've had with my mom and how it has progressed over time.

I was raised by a wonderful, loving mother!  She would sacrifice anything for my sister and I, if needed, because she always put our needs (not wants, mind you) first.  When I was little, I remember thinking she was likely the best mom ever in the world.  Like many little girls out there, I wanted to grow up to be just like her.  Until I was 10, she was a stay at home mom.  She took care of my sister and I plus Dad.  However, I never felt, as a kid, that she gave up herself for us either.  She had clear views and goals in life--even going back to school to get a degree starting when I was in 3rd grade.

I grew up as a kid in the 70s.  There was a lot more sexism when I was a child than many little girls face now (or, at least, it was different).  TV portrayed the jobs for women as being nurses and stewardesses (now called flight attendants), not doctors and pilots.  I would tell Mom that when I grew up I wanted to be a stewardess and she would ask me, "Why not a pilot?"  She wanted me to strive for what I could be, not be limited by the roles currently being occupied by women.

One thing I always knew, at the time, was that my mom loved me and wanted the best for me.  As a little girl, I would get mad at her sometimes and pout, like most children, but forgave her quickly.  I wanted to be like her (or Dad to be honest--he was my hero).  She worried about me and my sister, but nothing that seemed unreasonable at the time.  Heck, when my family was stationed in Germany the 2nd time, my Girl Scout troop went to Berlin (for those youngsters out there---this was before the "Wall" came down--when there was a East/West Germany & East/West Berlin).  I don't remember Mom being worried one bit.  She didn't come but trusted in the chaperones.  Now, I'm quite sure she worried.

Things changed around the age 10 or 11, though, and extended into the teen years.  I fought with my mom a lot.  I rebelled against her (and Dad to a lesser degree).  We could never agree on school clothes and it was always a battle.   I thought she was annoying, butted into my business too much, and worried about me too much.  My thought was that I was capable, and she should trust in me.  It didn't help that I was extremely moody and going through stuff that she didn't understand.  She thought it was just hormones rearing their ugly head.  Later, in my 20s, we came to realize it was a clinical depression.

As I got into my later teens, Mom and I started to communicate better and she became a bit of a friend.  That type of relationship continued on even until I was in my 30s.  At some point, my mom became one of my best friends.  I knew I could trust her with anything.  I loved her (and still do) bunches!  I still thought she worried way too much.  She'd make a comment about something I was going to do while on the phone--you know, along the lines of "be careful"--and I would roll my eyes.  My thought was that I'm a capable adult and know what I'm doing.

Now that I'm about to be a mom, myself, I find myself appreciating my mom in ways I never have before.  I always knew it was a mom's job to worry about her children, but never quite "got it" until now.  I didn't understand that the worry starts before your baby is even born.  I worry constantly about Baby G.  If the baby isn't moving in the same way one day to the next, I start to worry.  Even if the baby is moving, I worry that something bad could happen or that the baby won't be born healthy.  I love Baby G with my whole heart and realize that worrying isn't part of my new job.  No, it is part of my connection to this baby.  I finally understand why my mom worries so much, even now.  It must have "killed" my mom the first time she let me go with a babysitter or overnight with friends or family.  I can't imagine being separated from my baby.  Right now, I can protect my baby to the best of my ability inside of me.  Once the baby is born, I will do everything I can to protect my baby by keeping my eyes and ears on Baby G.

My mom is an amazing mom to this day whom I love very much.  She has taught me a lot about being a mom from her example and things she has "taught" me growing up--little lessons she would pass on.  I hope I can be as good a mom to my baby.