Through the years

August 7, 1981.

I woke up that morning with an achy back – not pain, just achy. It was my due date. Back then, I had no idea whether this baby would be a boy or a girl. I only had my feelings … it was a girl.

At about 11:00, the ache had a pressure point which pushed me to call Dr. Walt Beaver’s office. I had a 2:00 appointment, but just to be safe, the woman on the phone said, “You probably need to be checked out sooner.”

2:14 p.m. Emily Catron was born at Riverview Hospital, 8 pounds, 4 ounces. I was right! I had a daughter, born on her due date, during what would have been my appointment. She’s been on time ever since.

The moment I held her in my arms, I knew I was blessed to have her to love. I dressed her in ruffles, lace, and crinolines. She was such a pretty baby.

August 7, 2026

It’s 45 years later. How did 45 years go so quickly? Isn’t 45 middle-aged? And does that make me officially elderly? Noooo.

I look at my hands. They look like my mother’s, and Emily’s hands look like mine did when I was 45.

When she went to college at Indiana State University, she had no idea that the next day she would drive back home to visit me in the hospital. The stress of taking her to college took its toll on me. The doctor called it an anxiety attack. I called it empty-heart syndrome. I returned to an empty house that screamed with a new quiet.

When Emily gave birth to Aiden and Leah, I was in the room, watching my baby have a baby. It was surreal.

Emily lives 1,000 miles away, yet I feel so close to her. She’s always understood my heart. She heard it beat for nine months. When my world came crashing down, she helped me pick up the pieces and rebuild my life. When I fell in love with Chuck, she stood by me at the altar as my matron of honor.

Now that she and Drew live in Florida, I watch her from afar. She’s not a helicopter parent, but she could sure use one as she navigates Tampa for practices, games, and competitions. Every day, she plays “Who’s on first, what’s on second, and are their uniforms clean?” She knows the rules of football, flag football, baseball, soccer, basketball, and even cheer. She’s not afraid to remind umpires and referees of the rules and of their failure to understand them.

Emily can write an email and gently jerk a knot in someone’s tail with her words. She is a gentle force to be reckoned with.

Emily has talked me down from the worry tree. I entertain her with my suggestions. She laughed when I told her she needed to watch the movie where Sally Field talks to an octopus. I told her it would warm her heart. Her response was, “Okay, Mom.” I’m not sure if she ever watched Remarkably Bright Creatures, but if her heart ever needs warming, she should.

Speaking of her heart, when I called her in February 2020 to tell her that her grandma thought the Lord was calling her home, she grabbed a ticket on the next flight to Indy. She sat with her grandma through the night. The next morning, Emily called me and said, “Grandma thinks she heard wrong. The Lord is not calling her home.” So she flew back home. She was the first person I called when my mom was called home on December 17, 2020.

God first, Chuck second, and Emily third in my decision-making.

Funny story: When I started dating Chuck, Emily asked her Hamilton Southeastern Schools friends for their opinion of Chuck Leonard. Everyone assured her he was a good guy. Dr. Leonard got her approval. Chuck loves telling that story.

I’ve often said that when I write my last column (not for a long time), she would be a great one to take it over.

On August 7, 1981, I had no idea of the gift God had given me in the tiny baby I held in my arms. Thank you, God; You knew I would need her in so many ways. I am blessed to call Emily Catron my daughter.

Happy Birthday, Emily! In 25 years, your hands will probably look like mine now. I know your heart will still be beautiful.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Spring 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. Visit janethartleonard.com. You can purchase her book “When the Hart Speaks” at amazon.com/dp/B0B1C7QKF6.