The Fledgling

By Jillian Ritenour

Victoria Lee's fight for life started at birth. As she grew into a young woman, the fight continued leaving her little room to breathe the air she needed to grow. Daddy and I's protection came from a natural place Momma's protection--from a broken one, a scathed and loveless childhood.
Although Victoria's childhood is far from loveless... it seems lifeless so Victoria begins to ignore her natural instincts and becomes more attentive to those that allow her to feel less like a caged bird and more like a seventeen year old. Will a relationship that could ruin two families yet bring on more freedom for Victoria and allow her to take flight, or will a predator who is already hovering stop her wings from flapping taking away the little freedom she already has.
The fledgling is a traditional story about life, love, falling in love and the strength it takes to let go of those we love beyond the grasp of our reality; because it is those times, when we release our grasp, letting go with hope while holding onto faith--we can come back from tragedy...Victorious.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667889955

Book preview

John:

Bird’s-eye View

Why is my sister’s story important? Because If I asked Momma today if she regrets those fourteen days where Victoria lay, unable to breathe on her own, she would say no; in fact, she would say she wished the doctors had kept Victoria in that warm place, away from all the mess and dangers the world brings. Yep, ironically enough, Momma would tell you that Victoria was much safer in that little incubator than what the world had planned for her out here. However; Momma realizes now that you can’t keep all your eggs safe after hatching just because you aren’t ready for them to fly. There’s a lesson in loving hard enough, holding the shell of the ones you want to protect too tightly—leaving it to fall to pieces. It can make you feel those loved ones will be in pieces for the rest of their lives. But it can also be in those times we are reminded to let go, because after all, sometimes holding on…is harder.

Mother Bird

Momma loved birds. She would sit on the porch in her spare time with her binoculars watching them. Eventually, she would take the camera and walk through our back woods capturing the candid moves of so many. The birds that were not native to our area, she knew about them too. The research she did was infinite.

Of all the birds my mom researched and studied, the most interesting for her was the pigeon and white dove. I believe my mom chose this species because of its characteristics. Momma loved the fact that one could release the homing pigeon and it would find its way back home again. She always said, if we don’t remember any other facts of her occasional bird trivia, remember the homing pigeon fact. She always wanted Victoria and me to know we had a nest to come home to.Momma’s love of the white dove has always been the most passionate. And when you do some research, it is easy to understand. The dove is a remarkable creature. ‘Above all things,’ mother would say, ‘it is beautiful and the fact that it has been a symbol of love and peace since the fourth century makes it an easy favorite in my book. Just like my children.’ Momma always sounded like a fairy tale character when she spoke about birds and us. Just like Snow White, she was so gentle and kind. I believe if she had stood at an open window and stuck out a finger, just one finger, it would have been enough to make one of those birds perch right on the tip and feel safe enough to sing a little song with her.

Momma was a kindergarten teacher. Perhaps that is where her love of birds came from. Caring for all of those children all the time, including her own. ‘All of God’s fragile and innocent creatures need the best care so that when they leave the nest, they know what direction to fly was one of my mother’s famously quoted lines. Teaching was the perfect job for my mother. Motherhood... a perfect career. She would always let us children know that the reward she received for that was worth more than gold.

There was only me for a while. Momma was twenty-six years old when she had me. It was a planned pregnancy for her and Daddy, and they were ecstatic to have a boy first. They always believed that a girl would follow and liked the fact that she would have another man to act as second to Daddy—a superhero like no other. My dad could do no wrong, but when he did, Momma would let him know about it. He would hear my mother out, apologize for being what my mom called the back end of a horse, and they would both hug, kiss, and pretend it never happened; water under the bridge.

Momma and Daddy were not like those couples who kept the hatchet unburied. They wanted to dig a hole and cover it while the ground was still fertile for growing. Not that they didn’t solve the issue; they had just beenthrough enough life with each other that they didn’t want it to turn into a problem. Life is too short to spend a long time on anything other than living it,—that was one of Daddy’s famously quoted lines. When he spoke, it sounded a little more like preaching, only to teach us, of course. It wasn’t until six years later when we added a new baby bird to the nest that I began to understand what Daddy was talking about.

Hatchling

Victoria: Named after the Victoria crowned pigeon. Momma felt it suited her newborn. Victoria, or Victory as we so properly nicknamed her, was premature. Born at thirty-two weeks, Victoria was about sixteen inches long, weighing in at about four pounds, meaning that her first few weeks of birth would be her most fragile, just like a baby dove when it is born. My mother spent some time reading about premature births so she knew the statistics that 50 percent of premature births go undetected and there would be no specific cause for Victoria’s early arrival.

There were some symptoms my mother had that day, which she knew were associated with the start of pre term labor. She complained of excruciating back pain. She also had some bleeding and what she referred to as unusual pressure in her abdomen, but she also knew that pre-term labor didn’t have to mean premature labor; unfortunately, it did for her.

John, grab the bag. Daddy did not waste any time in getting my mother to the hospital. I am not sure he even remembers driving there. Seven hours later, Victoria was born. The doctors swept her away. I don’t even think Daddy and Momma saw anything but a blur. There were so many risk factors involved due to her being premature, and respiratory arrest was among the most dangerous. Victoria’s lungs were underdeveloped so they had to get her to theNICU and place her in an incubator or open warmer, as we heard one nurse say.

Just like a little bird waiting to hatch, Momma said, when she saw her lying there while placing both her hands up to the enclosed, transparent tomb of wait.

Through it all, Momma and Daddy were there together once again putting the Lee family philosophy to the test.

The days got longer and Victoria’s condition was stable, but the concern for her respiratory issues still existed. We were winning the battle, but there was still a war. After fourteen days and a lot of praying, Victoria could breathe on her own. Ironically, the incubation period for the dove is also fourteen days. After that, they are released into the wild, and so was Victoria.

Chapter 2

Arranging The Nest

Preparing for Victoria’s homecoming differed from preparing for her arrival. Her arrival happened in the hospital; her homecoming happened fourteen days later.

Momma missed out on the nesting period because of the unexpected delivery, but by the time Victoria came home, one could have sworn our house went through a renovation, like on one of those shows on TV. When Momma wasn’t at the hospital with Victoria, she was at home cleaning, stocking, and rearranging. Some may say she went a little overboard, even installing an additional security system; top shelf. Momma saw it as a second chance for Victoria and she wanted to make sure she took all the precautions for our little baby bird to come home to a safe and secure environment. She would protect Victoria forever.

Having Victoria early changed something in Momma. I don’t know if it was her age—she was only thirty-four—or that she was not planning on having any more children when she realized she was pregnant with Victoria. Momma had already lost one child to a miscarriage before. She and Daddy were planners and losing a child wasn’t part of their plan; therefore, getting pregnant with Victoria was also not part of their plan.

Momma referred to her kind of planning as ‘controlled planning’—it meant you either knew what the outcome would be, or that you at least kept your assumption of the planning within your expectations. But losing a child, and discovering you’re expecting one, was not a controlled plan. When Momma became pregnant with me, it was two years after her and Daddy’s marriage. They were both stable in their jobs and in their life together. Momma had finally earned a permanent position at the local church, teaching preschool, and Daddy had finally started his own law firm. I suppose all the stability life had blessed us with was a sign Momma and Daddy should try for another little one, but having another little one didn’t seem to be on the cards at the time.

Because it did not go as planned, Momma vowed that she would never become pregnant again. All she had to do was give my dad a look, and he knew he had to schedule an appointment for a vasectomy. When Momma became pregnant again, she had been feeling sick for two weeks, but she hadn’t even considered she could be pregnant given my dad’s vasectomy. She wasn’t sure how much faith she should put in peeing on a stick, but peeing in a cup…now that she could put her faith in! Her doctor confirmed it, and then it was chaos. It was as if God was reminding Momma he was in charge and she could forget about any control…chaotic or not.

Embryonic Development

There must be some mistake. How could this happen?

Mr. and Mrs. Lee, everything went as planned with Mr. Lee’s procedure; however, there must have been some misunderstanding with regard to the precautions you should have taken. It is necessary to use protection for at least two months after the procedure. If you don’t, there is the risk of getting pregnant due to the sperm that did not get reabsorbed.

So, it’s like some of those little guys went swimming without life jackets? Dr. Ho laughed.

That is a unique way to put it, yes. It’s more like they went swimming in the wrong pool; they should have stayed in your husband’s, but they dove into yours. Mr. Lee is the one who should have worn the life jacket. It was a good thing Dr. Ho had such great bedside humor. Momma and Daddy both needed it.

The misunderstanding turned into alternative planning. Momma looked at Daddy with tears in her eyes. She had lost the control she thought she had. So now, Momma and Daddy had to plan how to plan to have another child they didn’t plan for. It was a good thing Momma had so much faith because she had to come to terms with the fact that God’s plan had nothing to do with hers. It also didn’t keep the gossip down in a small town. For a few weeks, it was all you heard about.We expected it. When word gets around that a woman is pregnant by a husband who can no longer have children…well, that will keep mouths running. But no one had anything bad to say about Momma and Daddy. They were prominent members of the church and the community and volunteered for projects and activities. Daddy had grown his reputation by giving back. He had even tried cases for those that were less fortunate and couldn’t afford an attorney. And if Daddy couldn’t take on the case, he would find someone just as skilled and professional to ensure a fair trial.

It took Momma a little time, but Daddy seemed to get right back into the swing of things after finding out about Victoria. Momma struggled for the first few months. It was the first time I saw her stressed and tense. She was really concerned about re-entering motherhood, in the beginning stages at least and, with a girl. It feels like the twilight zone. That is how Momma explained most of what seemed to consume her. She felt that it was weird and frightening. She had feelings that were inexplicable at the time, but now she could make one understand them just fine if they were interested. She knew starting over at thirty-four wasn’t going to be easy and she knew that she couldn’t handle the loss of another child, especially if she carried to twenty-six weeks as she had done before. She thought about the stress it would put on the entire household.

When Momma became pregnant with Victoria, she and dad sat me down and talked to me about the situation of having another child. I was okay with it. I was seven years old, and the only thing I was concerned about was being able to continue with my activities. I also didn’t want to have to sell any of my stuff, like my quad or dirt bike, to afford a new baby. Selfish, yes, but I was a young boy, uninterested in a new bird joining the nest, as my mother put it. Eventually, Momma became more confident at the thought of having another child, but it wasn’t until they found out they were having a girl, that the excitement set in.

Momma would have found the silver lining either way, but knowing she was going to have a girl came not only with silver linings but with pots of gold and rays of sunshine; the joy she felt was beyond reach. The news of a girl was like a lottery hit. My dad, especially, was ecstatic and over the moon. He was excited enough already just to be a Daddy again, and now the news of a little girl.

Momma began planning and budgeting, setting aside extra money for the huge shopping sprees that she started going on even before Victoria was born.

One thing about our family is that we always dressed to impress. If the colors didn’t match, if it made us look like we were wrapped up in crinkle paper, or if no one complimented us on how we looked, then we weren’t wearing it. My mother’s pregnancy definitely took some pressure off of me, since I hated shopping and being doted on while doing it. A little girl was like an early Christmas gift. Tori became our greatest gift. From the day Momma and Daddy walked through the door with her, we all knew that she would be the greatest gift we could ever receive.

Chapter 3

What’s In a Nickname?

Victoria became Victory even before she came home. We called her ‘baby bird’ the most. No other nickname was as fitting. It wasn’t odd to have a nickname in our household; sometimes even a few. Each name was attached to some memory or meaning. The only names we didn’t look forward to…our full names, called in a row: first, middle, and last. As in most households, that meant trouble, especially if Daddy said it in one full breath. Your nickname, however, was like a sweet reward. My nickname came when I was old enough to walk.

The mischief I could get into had my Daddy going around saying, John! Livy, I am telling you that boy is old enough to be over on my knee and my knee is ready. Momma would calmly look at Daddy and remind him that her tactic of counting to three worked just fine. Soon enough, Daddy would just say: John Boy with nothing else needed to follow. When you were being stared down by Daddy after misbehaving, that was enough.

It wasn’t long before John Boy caught on for more humorous and memorable reasons, so it stuck. Victoria started saying it at such an early age. She had a few nicknames herself. Baby Bird was the one we used the most, even more than Victory. Although Victory was more appropriate, because she started fighting for her life as soon as she entered the world and seemed to win, so we considered Victoria a victory. Not to mention that everything she did, even in her first few years, was victorious.

Victoria was six months old when John Boy became my most popular nickname. She didn’t shine with just a simple Momma and Daddy; it was John Boy. Momma and I were in shock and disbelief. We had hoped that she would continue to say it again and again because Momma wanted audible proof. It didn’t sound as clear as when I was saying it, but it was definitely John Boy. The J sounded more like a b so it came out as ‘bon boy,’ but it was music to Momma’s ears, and I was just as excited.

Momma was sad Daddy missed it, but he got to hear it later that night while we were all at the dinner table. That was the day Tori and I formed an unbreakable bond we would always share. Shakespeare was wrong. Names hold a lot of meaning. Not long after Victoria said my name, other words followed, then sentences. It was a good thing our household didn’t swear a lot or take the Lord’s name in vain because Victoria had an absolute vocabulary.

We were a family where education was as necessary and as important as breathing. We were not only fashionable in the way we dressed, but also in the manner we spoke. There was little Momma appreciated more than a silver tongue and she would often have to correct Daddy’s lazy one. Momma had a Bible reference for those times Daddy forgot how Jesus would conduct a word or conversation. Ephesians 4:29, let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good as building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. Daddy would sometimes provoke her telling her the ‘occasion’ sometimes called for harsher words. Momma did not think it was appropriate to make jokes on such an important subject.

Victoria’s other victories included walking at seven months, potty training, and reading full sentences at four years old. One day, she scooted on her belly for a little while and then as if she thought it was a waste of her time, she pulled herself up holding onto the coffee table. She then let go of it and did what I called a ‘wobble walk’ right over to Momma. Although she clapped and cheered, Momma was definitely not happy about Victoria’s first steps, because she realized it would continue to lead to more that she hadn’t prepared herself for.

Chapter 4

Early Stages

Victoria’s first birthday was nothing short of extravagant. As a child, my parents always had wonderful birthday parties for me, so I knew that Victoria’s would be grand. As the youngest of the family, and the first girl, the guests and the presents were seemingly endless. Victoria’s first birthday party set the bar for many more celebratory events to come. In elementary school, Victoria excelled in all her classes. From kindergarten to fifth grade, my parents would continually receive notes of advancements that Victoria had made.

During her pre-graduation into middle school, Victoria was invited to an honor banquet where she received recognition from the principal and her teacher for an essay she wrote on the importance of education, and how she felt it would affect her future. The essay won her a two-hundred-dollar cash prize and a conversation about taking some advanced writing classes, along with math and science.

Education and participation never changed much for her. Victoria earned a slew of awards and achievements for her grades and her participation in sports and community activities. I remember being out in the garage with Daddy, working on building a shelf for Victoria so she could properly display all of her achievements. Tori was a little more humble than Momma in those sorts of things, so the display was Momma’s idea. Victoria loved opening the box on Christmas morning, though. She loved the shelf more than the rewards that sat on it.

Tori was a popular girl—cautious in her choice of friends, mostly because she wanted to be sure they liked her and not her material things. Her intelligence and personality won mostly everyone over, and she had no problem making good friends and staying out of trouble. Did it make some people jealous? Perhaps, but Tori gave love and was loved so much that those that may not have liked her went unnoticed. Tori didn’t get to do much without supervision. Momma didn’t allow her the freedoms that others her age may have had. She was constantly telling Tori how important it was to be young and not rush into things. Of course, the foundation of the reasons, well, they were bleak…not discussed.

Momma would repeat famous quotes and phrases to us as she thought they would help to keep us grounded. She believed they would help Tori understand why she shouldn’t be in such a rush to grow up. From the Bible to Shakespeare and known African proverbs, Momma thought they were all inspirational and helped with moral conduct. One of my mother’s favorites, that she used to quote to Tori, was: ‘She is beautiful; she has love; she understands; she respects herself and others; everyone likes, loves and honors her; she is a goddess.’ Although it drove Tori crazy, all the repetitiveness all the time, she was very cautious.

She respected herself and expected others to do the same. Sometimes it may have made her seem a bit off-kilter or strange, but being different never meant being ignored or bullied.

Although Tori excelled from the time she was born, transitioning from infant to toddler, toddler to child, and child to young adult was not simple. We often joked, talking about Victoria’s growth, that it surprised us she had learned how to walk. My mother was beside herself with anxiety about all of Tori’s firsts. I will never forget the first time that she rolled over, her first crawl, walk, bite of solid food; the list goes on. Through it all, Momma gained a new nickname: MPS or mother parcel service, a knock-off version of a reputable package delivery company. Daddy would often joke and suggest stamping ‘fragile handle with care’ on Victoria’s forehead. However, after hearing Momma refer to Tori as ‘little bird,’ we thought Momma bird was more fitting for her and stuck with that.

Whatever situation Tori found herself facing, my mom wanted to be sure she came out unscathed and still needed Momma at daylight’s end. I can still hear Momma bird’s voice in my head and her words of concern for Victoria as she was growing. Oh, my goodness, she would say, little bird is trying to turn over. Bradly, make sure her arm does not get lodged under her belly, that will be painful for both of us. Bradly, watch when she is trying to walk, please, she is releasing her hands from the coffee table. The first steps are so hard. Remember when John Boy started walking? His legs were so bruised from falling. Girls can’t have bruises on their legs, they have to wear dresses. Her rambling continued as a daily reminder…

Bradly, darling, you must remember to cut up little bird’s food appropriately. Mashed potatoes are one thing, but with the hot dog, you need to cut it down the middle, vertically, then turn it over, slice it down the middle again and continue slicing it into smaller pieces horizontally. Momma was so dramatic as she grabbed a butter knife and a plate, without the hot dog, yet, still, with all the action, explaining instructions.

"You all think I am