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The bleeding
began on the plane ride home.
''I'm going to die,'' thought Yong
Jones.
She and her husband were returning to
Korea from a vacation in Japan when Yong hurried
to the back of the plane. In the tiny airplane bathroom,
she discovered she was hemorrhaging.
As soon as the plane
touched down in Seoul, Yong and Laurence Jones rushed
to the hospital. A doctor examined Yong, and told her:
''You've had a miscarriage.''
The news stunned Yong. She
hadn't known she was pregnant.
The doctor explained
that she was three months pregnant and had lost the
baby because it began growing in her fallopian tube rather
than in her womb.
Yong began to cry. ''To find out I am
a mother and on the same day to lose the baby
is too much.''
The doctor had worse news. ''It's
unlikely you'll be able to have children,''
he said. ''You have less than a 50 percent
chance.''
Yong sobbed harder now.
Larry held her as they left the hospital.
''It's OK, honey,'' he
told her. ''We don't have to have children.''
A few years
after Yong's miscarriage, the young couple left Korea
and moved to Loring Air Force
Base in northern Maine, where Larry was
stationed.
They lived in a two-bedroom
trailer near the base. Though
Yong missed her family, her
husband made her happier than she ever thought
possible. Larry delighted
in sharing American culture with his wife.
He took her golfing, bowling, to drive-in
theaters, to fancy restaurants and
to McDonald's.
''I want to show you something
new every day,'' he told
her.
Despite their love, an unspoken
sadness churned inside each of
them. Their attempts to have
a baby in the years after the
miscarriage had failed.
Yong prayed
for a child she could hold in her arms, bundle in
blankets and take for long walks on Maine's
country roads. As more time
passed, she grew increasingly forlorn,
believing she would never
be a mother.
Laurence Jones secretly dreamed
of a son he could teach to play
baseball and football. A boy
he could fish with and wrestle
with. A son who would one day
have children of his own.
Reluctantly,
they had each accepted the possibility they might
never be parents. Larry promised to
take Yong on trips to lift
her spirits. But his military travel
came first. Above: Laurence
Jones Jr. was a miracle baby for Laurence
and Yong Jones. After a miscarriage,
his mother was told by a
doctor that there was a good chance
she would never be able to have
a child.
In the fall of 1968, Yong hugged
Larry tightly, squeezing
back tears as he headed to Guam for
temporary duty.
Not long after he left she
was overcome with waves of nausea
and sluggishness.
''Maybe I'm sad about
my husband being gone,'' she
thought. Then another idea crossed her mind:
''Maybe I'm pregnant.''
A visit
to her doctor confirmed she was going to have a baby.
She drove to the base and told
officials there she needed to
talk with her husband in Guam.
Because
he was stationed on a remote part of the island,
an officer used a military radio to connect her with
Larry. When she heard her husband's voice
she couldn't hold back her news.
''Honey,
I'm pregnant!'' Yong shouted.
''What did you say?''
Larry's voice crackled back.
''Honey, I went to the
doctor's today. I'm two months pregnant.''
Finally
Larry understood. Yong listened to him whoop with
joy. ''We're going to have a baby,''
he hollered.
Larry returned
to Maine a few months later, and he and Yong
began decorating the spare bedroom
for their new baby. Larry insisted
the room be decorated blue and
yellow.
''What about pink?'' Yong
asked.
''Oh, no, it's going to be a
boy,'' he said.
Yong
gave in, buying blue and yellow baby blankets, pajamas
and sleepers.
On a warm spring morning, Yong
felt a sharp pain in
her abdomen and told Larry: ''The baby is
coming.''
On May 14,
1969, she gave birth to a boy. Yong had never experienced
such happiness. She felt like
she was floating as she held
her son.
Her husband rushed out to buy
gifts. He returned with
a baseball bat and a train set. ''This is
for Larry Junior,'' he
said proudly. Above: When he was 2 years old,
Laurence Jones Jr. and
his parents visited his extended family in
Inchon, South Korea,
where is mother's parents showered him
with gifts and good wishes.
The colors of the boy's celebratory
Korean clothing symbolize
his bright future and his potential
for respect and wealth.
''Oh,
is that what we're going to name him?'' Yong asked.
''Junior?''
Bundling him in blankets, they
took Laurence Jones Jr. home
to their trailer. They marveled
at his patch of light blond
hair and the hazel-blue eyes that
would later darken to brown.
Within
eight months, Junior was stretching his chubby legs
and walking in the field behind their home.
When Junior
was 2, his parents took him to Inchon to meet Yong's
parents and her sister.
Though
they had missed Junior's first birthday, his Korean
grandparents celebrated the important milestone
during his visit. In keeping
with Korean tradition, they showered
money, food and good wishes on
the child.
During the celebration,
Junior wore a traditional silk rainbow-colored
Korean shirt and a black-and-gold
cape. The vivid colors of
the rainbow represented his bright
future. The cape represented
respect and wealth, qualities
his family hoped he would
attain during manhood.
Dressed in his Korean finery,
Junior posed for pictures with
his parents and grandparents.
He stood behind a large kitchen
table filled with rice cakes,
fruits, sweets and stacks of
money.
The boy grinned into the camera,
relishing the attention. His
parents smiled too, proud of
their son.
''He is destined to
have a bright future and a long life,'' a family
member predicted.
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