Honoring Holly: Quickening a Memoir Into Life!

In utero, you each moved for the first time, and no one else knew.  Time passed; you grew, and one day, with a tremendous movement, you signaled to your mother, “It’s me! I’m  right here!”   

For your mother, that movement was not tremendous. It was small and subtle—yet so real—that it took on miraculous proportions. Quickening is defined as the first movements of the fetus felt in utero, but I believe that each baby experiences at least three quickenings: 1. the first time the embryo twitches into life in utero; 2. the moment when the mother becomes aware of slight movement that didn’t originate with her own muscles or digestive tract; and 3. the moment when another human feels the baby move beneath the skin of the mother's belly. 

Fifty-five years ago, I experienced the third type of quickening.  My baby sister, Holly Joyce Nelson, moved under my hand on my Mama's tummy.  And all those years ago, I received a five-year-diary for my twelfth birthday. Now I've worked entries from that diary, and events from that year, into a memoir: Holy Holly: One Tiny Life.  I will self-publish this book on Amazon soon. It will cost somewhere between $10 and $20--I'll publicize the price once I know it.  If you would like to pre-order a copy, please indicate it in the comments or let me know in some other way.  In the meantime, here is an excerpt from the book:

I met Holly the night before my twelfth birthday. 

“Time for bed!” Dad said, turning off the TV. My brother and sisters scooted, but Mama laid my hand on her tummy. Something moved! Something small but firm arced an orbit under the skin of her belly!

“It’s our baby,” Mama whispered. “He—or she—is growing there, safe and warm, right under my heart—where you grew twelve years ago.”

Wow—that bump on Mama’s belly was a baby? 

My world in the small town of Teton, City, Idaho, (we shortened it to “Teton”) was about to change. My unborn sister—Holly—would shape my life and the lives of my entire family profoundly. At school I was tormented by students who looked down on kids from the dry farms. Especially me: the meanest and baddest bully targeted me, and I thought that was torture.

But it was nothing compared to watching my baby sister struggle to survive day in and day out while my family, especially Mama and Dad, fought to care for Holly with incredible tenderness and a lot of prayer.

Every minute of our time with Holly taught us lessons in love. 

Let me tell you the rest.

In loving memory of Holly Joyce Nelson,

Debra Nelson Holm