Little Girl With A Big Heart

 My daughter had complained about her "weird" feet since she was a child. She said they were shaped funny. I figured it was because she just did not appreciate her feet. They looked fine to me.

When she was a pre-teen she ended up with plantar warts. The foot specialist I took her to see treated them over a period of time and she was fine.

But her feet became a problem over time. She worked at a job that required her to be on her feet all day. She visited the foot specialist often.

They finally decided it would be best to remove the bunionettes. He recommended doing one foot at a time. She had the worst one taken care of then put off doing the other foot.

The foot specialist retired. My daughter ignored the remaining bunionette for years.

In the meantime she had two children. Her doctor and the doctor who treated the children was a nice young man. He was the father of twin girls who were the same age as my granddaughter.

He saw to it that my daughter had the final foot taken care of.

Then my daughter needed to have her tonsils removed. It would be an outpatient surgery. As fate would have it one of her doctor's daughters was scheduled to have her tonsils removed the same day.

My daughter was in a little area that was sectioned off for a patient awaiting surgery. She had been given a mild sedative to relax her. She waited. She waited some more. She waited longer. The sedative began to wear off.

She and her children's father heard the sirens of an ambulance. There was a lot of commotion inside the clinic.After a very long wait they came and restarted the procedure for my daughter and she had her tonsils removed.

Several days later my daughter had to see her doctor to see that she was healing properly. Another doctor was filling in for him.

After some detective work my daughter found out that all the hubbub the day she had her tonsils removed was because of her doctor's daughter. When they went to remove her tonsils they discovered something else which turned out to be throat cancer.

That poor little girl had a really hard time. Eventually her father took time from his ob to take care of her and her twin sister. He shaved his head to match hers when her hair fell out from the chemotherapy.

Every year there is a cancer walk which raises money for cancer treatment and research. It is held at a high school track field. People ask for sponsors to donate money for them walking.

Many of the people who walked were pat of a team. The doctor's little girl had a team of her own. Her sister and classmates walked. There was another team of people who worked at the doctor's office. There was another team of his patients and their families. It was glorious and inspirational to see.

After a long battle the doctor's daughter died. But she had been the driving force behind a lot of money raised to fight cancer to benefit others.

The walk became an annual event. A team named after the doctor's daughter still participates.

To Catch A Thief

Although she no longer does this line of work my daughter worked in fast food operations for more than half her life. More than half that time was as a manager of pizza take-out stores.

In the big city where we lived robbery was a real danger to any fast food store. Especially a pizza store. Part of the training to work there was learning what to do in case of a robbery.

The lobbies of the stores are open but the entire work area including the cashier is behind bullet proof glass. The pizzas are either placed in a revolving delivery after they are paid for or slide under a slot. Customers never come into contact with employees or any part of the working area.

Only small amounts of money are kept in the tills. Large bills and accumulations of cash are deposited in envelopes directly into the safe.

The safe is opened using a combination known only to management. It is set on a timer so that it does not open immediately in case someone is forcing the manager to dial the combination. There is a false front of sorts so a certain amount of money can be used to buy change for the cash register.

Most robberies are found to be "inside" jobs. Former employees, present employees, and people who know employees are the most common culprits. They are the ones who know routines and can cajole someone into letting them in through the back door. That is why no one who is not supposed to be there is supposed to have access.

If somehow the store is robbed it is to be immediately closed. The police will be called. No one is to be let in or out except police and store officials. Only after the police have taken statements can people go home.

Eventually my daughter was transferred to a suburban store. All the stores operate the same. But this one had no bullet proof! She felt quite vulnerable for a long time.

My daughter is an extremely careful (and at times suspicious) person by nature. She was often the last to leave the store after closing. She had paperwork to do and money to balance.

She made sure all her employees were safely on their way too. She would watch until their cars were moving out of the parking lot.

When she left she looked all around before she even left the store. Then she went purposefully and quickly to her car. No chances taken.

My daughter began to notice a car parking in front of the pizza store for several nights in a row. No one ever got in or out of the car and it just drove away each night.

She notified the police that a suspicious looking car was coming every night. They made a notation of it but there was not much they could do.

One night very late as she was getting ready to go home she saw the car parked directly in front of her store. She waited about half an hour and it stayed. Finally she called the police.

As the patrol car passed through the parking lot the car finally left. She waved to the police as she got in her car. She never saw the car again.

A few years later my daughter was managing another pizza store.  She was pregnant and having severe problems with her blood pressure. As a matter of fact she was days away from being placed on medical maternity leave.

Late at night she received a phone call from her store. It had been robbed.

She went immediately to the store. The police were on the way.

The two employees were a brother and sister. The brother was in charge and his sister felt safe with her brother.

The thief had managed to grab the 16 year old female employee and held a knife to her throat. She was hysterical when my daughter arrived but not hurt physically.

After comforting the girl the best she could my daughter surveyed the store to see what was taken. Then she called the girl's parents.

Calling the parents was totally against the rules. My daughter knew that I would have been more than upset if it had been my daughter and I was not notified. She also felt like she would want to know in that case too. When the parents arrived she let them in to comfort their daughter and son.

There were two reasons she did not consider the son when she called the parents. First he was an adult. Second he was not hysterical.

The police were not happy the parents were there and neither were the higher -ups of the company but they understood why she did it. She was not disciplined for it.

As so often happens it was an inside job. The young man's friend was the robber. He was also a former employee. The young man had let him in after the store closed. The sister knew nothing about it.

The young man had no idea that the robber was going to grab the sister either. Once he finally confessed he cried that he did not mean for his sister to be involved in any way.

The next time you hear on the news about a robbery at a fast food place... remember it was probably an inside job.

Emergency Room

My children certainly had their share of accidents. I feel I was a good mother. I watched over them carefully but somehow they still managed to get hurt. Not all of their escapades made it to the emergency room but a good many of them did.

My oldest son was not emergency room prone. No. He had to take it further. He was born with two thumbs on one hand. When he was about 9 months old he had surgery to remove the extra one.

After many x-rays the doctors had determined that unlike many extra appendages, my son's extra thumb was an actual thumb. Most extras are simply made of cartilage and are easily removed. Because my son's thumbs were both made up of bones, muscles, ligaments, tendons, and skin and seemed to be equal in every way it was decided to remove the outer one.

The surgery was successful but he needed physical therapy to strengthen the remaining thumb. Metal braces to try to encourage the thumb to grow straight were made.

The knuckle of the remaining thumb bent from side to side rather than from back to front. Another surgery when he was 4 was to straighten the thumb and restructure the knuckle so it would bend properly.

After the surgery his hand and arm were in a cast up to the middle of his upper arm for about 6 weeks. He made good use of that cast. Whenever someone tried to disagree with him he conked them in the head with it.

When it finally came off the smell was unbearable. And all that dead skin. Then when the doctor slid out the two metal pins that had been inserted in my son's hand and arm to hold everything in place, my son started to scream. And scream, and scream. It was not from pain but how would you like to see six inch metal rods coming from inside your arms?

The operation was a success. My son's thumb is normal sized. Many people in his position have a remaining thumb that is still the size it was when they were babies. He cannot grip with it because the knuckle does not lock into place... it just keeps bending. One interesting thing is that when they do surgeries to reconstruct a thumb, they come out with a digit that resembles a finger more than a thumb.

We lived in a small town. We owned an old pickup truck that I drove the places we wanted to go. I would get the two older boys in the truck then place a baby on the lap of each one. My oldest son usually sat nearest to the door and held his baby sister.

One day as I was turning the corner, the door flew open. My son felt himself falling out. He managed to throw his little sister to his brother before he fell. He was up and running before I could stop the truck. There were no injuries except for a scrape from the gravel on his upper lip. He insisted on wearing a bandaid over that scrape for days.

Son number one had to have his tonsils removed when he was 5. They would not let me spend the night at the hospital with him so I promised I would be there bright and early before he went to surgery. I went to the hospital earlier than expected but they had taken him to surgery even earlier.

When my son came out of surgery he was still asleep. But when he woke up he began to scream. I told you he was a screamer. Finally the nurse came in and gave him a sedative to put him back to sleep in hopes that he would calm down. All that screaming could cause hemorrhaging. The sedative worked.

Son number two was interesting in the injuries he chose. He was the one who would open a drawer of the desk, then when he went to close it he would shut his fingers in it. Then he would pull the drawer open and shut his fingers in it again.

One time I was sitting in my chair mending some clothes. My son was still in diapers. He was sitting across the room from me facing the wall. I watched in amusement as he would reach his little arm straight in front of him then pull it quickly back and do a little shimmy. After he did this about 6 times (I am not real quick) I got up to see what kind of game he was playing.

That was when I saw the nail sticking out of the electrical outlet. He was reaching for it again. I stopped him. He was trying to get the nail out after he had stuck it in there and getting a little jolt when he would touch it. No emergency room required.

I do not know what possessed him to pull a can lid out of the trash but he did. He was playing with it and cut his thumb. It was a deep gash so off we went to the emergency room. Several stitches later we went home.

When the stitches came out the edges of the wound were still a little ugly. He insisted on wrapping a tissue around his thumb because he was afraid it was going to bleed again. The assistant pricipal at school sent him home and said he could not come back until I sent a note from the doctor stating that it was healed.

Somehow a wooden toothpick was embedded in the carpet. My son was crawling around playing and managed to get the toothpick up under his knee cap. Off we went to the emergency room. It was a relatively simple procedure to remove it. My son felt no further effects from it.

The most frightening injury happened to him when he was an adult. He was watching television when two men broke into his house to rob him. When he protested they shot him. One shot into each leg. Because he did not want to scare me he called his sister who called me.

They were releasing him from the hospital and he needed a ride home. There was nothing they could do for him except tell him to try to stay off his feet until his legs healed. They were unable to remove the bullets so he still has a bullet in each of his legs.

My third son broke things. The kids were climbing a tree and he lost his footing and fell. Luckily his foot got caught on a branch so he did not fall all the way to the ground but his arm hit against the tree. To the emergency room we went. His arm was broken.

The day the cast came off his arm was a sunny day. When we returned from the doctor my son was riding his bike. It had no brakes so the kids stopped it by using their foot as a brake. My son put down his foot to stop and let out a scream. His foot was broken.

He waited a while before the next break. I do not even remember how he did it. But I recognized the scream. We went strainght to the emergency room. His bone was not actually broken. Young childrens' bones are still fairly soft. When he landed he wrinkled the bone in his arm. The doctor had to stretch his arm out to pull out the wrinkle before they put a cast on it.

Another time he broke his leg again. And again I do not even remember how. But I do remember the time he and his brother were fighting. My son went running up the stairs to try to escape from his bigger brother. He lost his footing and fell against the stairs. He hit his hand on the edge of the step and broke it.

This child had the nerve to ask me if he could try out for the football team in high school. I told him, "Absolutely not! You break to easily."

The only accident he had that did not involve broken bones was the time he took a hatchet to a can of WD40. The contents of the can exploded into his eyes. I grabbed a gallon jug of water and flipped him upside down to flush as much as I could from his eyes before rushing him to the emergency room. Luckily no permanent damage was done. Although he says now that he believes that incident is the reason he is color blind.

My darling daughter. Sugar and spice and everything nice. A beautiful bit of fluff. So soft and feminine. Well... not quite.

When she was about 2 we were loading the pickup to go to the store. Her brother, my second son, was her lap that day. He closed the door and she immediately screamed. He had closed it on her fingers. He looked puzzled so I tried to stay calm and said in a very quiet even voice, "Open the door. Open the door. Open the door." It finally sunk in and her released her little fingers.

Instead of the store we went to the emergency room. Amazingly no bones were broken but her little hand was bruised. Her brother felt awful.

One rare day the kids got a visit from their father. When the visit was over he was driving away. My daughter had on her roller skates and decided to race him. She was on the sidewalk and only slightly behind. He went around the corner. She hit a rock and flipped head over heels.

When she got up she had a gash on her chin. She got several stitches to close it. They did a good job. She barely has a scar.

Most of her injuries happened as she got older. As a manager of a pizza place she had to know how to perform every job in the place. As an industrious worker she did every job in the place. She was constantly cutting her fingers. Several times she needed stitches.

Once she got a small piece of metal in her eye somehow. I took her to the emergency room and they used a magnet to remove it.

She always complained about her weird feet. She said they were deformed. Actually they were bunionettes. She had surgery on the first one. It was an outpatient procedure and I took her home as soon as she was alert enough to go.

She was still on crutches when she was allowed to go back to work. She was being siily and slipped and fell. There were wires in her foot that needed to be fixed. Being cautious is not her long suit.

At the hospital the nurses once told me they were going to reserve one of the treatment rooms just for my children. We laughed of course.

I have never really concerned myself with what other people think. I did start to think about all the times my children had been in that little room. All I could do was hope the medical personnel realized that these were all freak accidents. I certainly did not want them to call someone to investigate.

So now my children are grown. If they need medical treatment they have others to tend to them. If my grandchildren need emergency care, my children do it. I am happy to assist and occasionally I have but I do not miss the days of the emergency room.

My Daughter

My brother was very young when his daughter was born. Within a scarce few months his wife found out they were having another baby. I scolded my brother. His wife's body had not had time to recover from the birth of my niece. I ranted and raved and told him he should know better. Several months later they had a beauftiful son.

You know how nature has a way of putting us in our places and humbling us? I gave my brother such a hard time. Well, I was barely out of the hospital after having my third son and I was pregnant again.

Before my third baby was even born I had decided that I was not having more children. Three was quite enough. Then that was a difficult pregnancy. I did not want to put my children through that again.

I wanted surgery to prevent me from being able to have more children. My husband had to give permission due to archaic laws at the time. He would not agree to it so I used other methods almost 100% guaranteed to make sure there were no more babies.

Then came the day I woke up thinking,"Wouldn't it be nice to have another baby?"

While our someday baby was a surprise, our fourth baby was a shock. Things would be very difficult. My husband was on the road all the time leaving me with three boys and they were a handful. So shock or not we were expanding our family.

If you have read about the birth of my first three babies you will know that once my babies decided to be born they did not fool around. They were born quickly. My husband was usually only home on the weekends and I knew practically nobody. The nearest hospital was 30 miles away and I would probably have to drive myself. Who would take care of my boys? We decided that I would take the boys and go stay with my parents again.

My husband was hoping we would have a little girl. I decided that it would be a boy because I already had boys. I had clothes for a boy. My older two boys were extremely close and I thought it would be nice if the younger two could be that close.

Once again I pushed for a tubal ligation so that I would not have more babies. My husband balked at the idea. What if it was not his girl that he wanted. I told him that if he thought I was going to keep having babies until he got a girl, he was crazy.

I had a much easier time of things this time. I actually enjoyed my pregnancies for the most part. There is something that changes the way you view the world. It is probably hormonal.

Finally came the day that the contractions started. My mother once again took me to the hospital. The doctor examined me. I was no longer feeling any contractions. He determined that it was a false labor. I would not have my baby for about 10 days.

While I was left to get dressed to go home, the doctor went to tell my mother. She looked at him and said, "Oh no you don't. I know how she does this. I'll get her halfway home and she'll have that baby in the car."

The doctor told her she could have me walk the halls to see if exercise would make something happen. After about two hours Mom finally took my home.

My daughter was born ten days later. She was beautiful. She had little black ringlets of hair all over her head. But she was the color of a beet. Even after her skin became a normal color I could not dress her in red and little girls always look so nice in red. When she was much older I could have a red dress or blouse as long as there would be a huge white collar between her and the red.

Once again my husband was on the road when our daughter was born. We had finally agreed that he would authorize the surgery for me to not have more babies. But he was on the road when the morning of the surgery came. The nurse did not know what to do.

She asked if I was absolutely sure that my husband would sign the authorization papers. I assured her that he would. She decided that I could sign them for now and he could give official authorization as soon as he could get there.

Of course by the time my husband arrived the surgery was over and done. There was no need for his "permission" as policy required. I was the first married woman in my state to authorize her own surgery.

All three of my boys were enchanted by having a sister. As a matter of fact they have always spoiled her as much as possible. Even after all these years. But she knows it and appreciates it. She would do anything for her brothers.

My husband was in heaven. He finally had his little girl. She could do no wrong. Her place to be was on his lap. He would sing to her and show her the feelings that he felt he should not share with his sons.

Right away I noticed that a girl baby is different from a boy baby. She actually had legs like a girl! I just assumed that happened as girls grew up.

My daughter was the best baby I have ever seen. When she would wake up she would make enough noise to let me know that she was awake, then wait patiently for me to be able to get to her. Because I already had one baby my lap was often full. My daughter just fit where ever there was room.

There were only two problems. Projectile vomiting was one. She did not spit up like most babies. She spit out and all over the place. She was such a delicate little lady.

You may want skip this paragraph because it is disgusting. When my beautiful baby girl would fill her diaper it always went up her back and out her sleeve. Do not ask me how that happened. I have no idea. And her brothers said it smelled like Kentucky Fried chicken. We do not eat there.

One time the kids and I were to meet my husband in the city where my parents lived. So we packed and set off. I knew that traveling with four small children would be a trial so I planned to stop at the end of the day and spend the night at a motel.

My daughter could not wait (as most babies just answer the call of nature when the call comes in) and of course out her sleeve it went. Her oldest brother was holding her and was immediately repulsed. I had to pull over and change her diaper and her clothes. None of the boys wanted to hold her . It was a you do it... no, you do it kind of thing.

My daughter has blonde hair and fair skin. She looks so pretty in white. So of course any time I saw a white outfit or a white coat I had to get it for her.

White is impractical for a little girl with three big brothers. She was very feminine but she can hold her own with the boys. So it was a regular thing that she would come in with her pretty white clothes covered with dirt, grease, grass stains, blood, or whatever.

Her father called her his "Darlin" and announced that she could do no wrong. I chuckled because I knew her. We were riding one day and he had to go into the store for something. Our daughter was seated between us.He had left his pack of cigarettes on the seat.

I looked over and she had taken the cigarettes out and shredded them. I laughed. When her father came out he saw what she had done, I smiled sweetly and said, "She can't do anything wrong because she's your Darlin." Without missing a beat he looked at me and replied, "That's right."

Another thing I discovered is that girls are more expensive than boys. Their clothes cost more and they need a slightly larger wardrobe so the expense is considerable. And her activities usually cost more.

The boys played little league baseball. The cost was for a glove. Uniform shirts, bats, ball, coaches, and everything else was provided.

My daughter had less than no interest in sports. I knew that she needed something to occupy her time so I enrolled her in a dance class.

In cities it seems as if nationalities and ethnic groups tend to cluster together. Our city was no different. The neighborhood we lived in had mostly Polish people. Even though we have no Polish ancestors we tried to fit in. So a Polish dance class was where I took my daughter.

It was inexpensive to join the class. All you had to do was purchase the life insurance that would make you a member. It was very reasonable so we became card-carrying Poles.

Each week she would go to learn the traditional dances of Poland and I would attend the mothers' meetings. That was when I discovered the real expense.

At the end of the year there would be a recital. Traditional Polish costume was required for the dancers. Often another mother would have a costume that no longer fit her daughter so they could be purchased at a reasonable price. And they were good for as long as your daughter stayed the same size.

The headpieces were another matter. They were made by a local flower shop of fresh flowers and ribbons. They were beautiful but expensive. A new one each year.

And of course there were other dances. Besides the dance slippers they needed for most dances, there would occasionally be specialty dances. One year it was a tap dance routine that required tap shoes. And a different costume was needed for those dances. They had to be bought at dance stores or if we were lucky we could find a seamstress to make them. Either way it was expensive. The children always looked beautiful and performed in a way to make their mothers proud.

After the proceeds from the recital were used to cover expenses like the rental of the hall the money was used for the children and their mothers to take a trip.

One year we traveled to the World's Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee. My best friend's daughter danced so she was there. My friend also had to take her baby daughter. That little girl made my daughter's projectile vomiting look like a hiccup. And she very often chose me as her target. On the plane to Knoxville I believe she managed to hit every spot on the plane.

We had a wonderful time. On the way home my daughter did not feel well. Poor thing was sick for several days afterward.

When her father left home for good, my daughter was devastated. Her place to sit had been on her father's lap. He doted on her. And suddenly he not only did not live at home but he did not make himself available to the children. She cried often and long. I did what I could but she wanted her father.

Her father's brother came to the rescue. I did not particularly like this brother. But he stepped in and was there for all my children, especially my daughter. I may not always like him but I have developed a strong respect for him.

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law have a daughter the same age as my daughter. Across the street from them lived another girl their age. She lived with her grandparents. The three of them were constant companions. One of their favorite activities was roller skating.

My daughter had her own room and furniture in their home. At Christmas they gave her everything they gave to their daughter even knowing that I had gifts for her. It made her feel wanted again.

I have often said that the love my daughter and her uncle felt for each other was a beautiful thing to see. She adored him. And he loved her.

He had to love his wife and children. But he did not have to love nieces and nephews. Most of them he merely tolerated. He was very good to my sons and even to me but he loved my daughter. He did not have to but he loved her.

Having three older brothers allowed my daughter to become a sassy little thing. When she thought I was not listening she had a mouth like a truck driver. She knew that no matter what happened her brothers were right there to take care of her.

There was a little boy her age who lived around the corner from us. He liked to tease my daughter. One day after school I heard her burst into the house and exclaim, "Sammy's picking on me." They rode the same school bus.

The door slammed as all the boys took off (behind my daughter I might add) and down the street after Sammy. Sammy was not very big for his age and I have nice big healthy boys.

I was upstairs and ran to look out the window to see what was going on. There was my darling daughter running down the street after Sammy, yelling and waving that famous family finger all the way. Her brothers were hot on her heels. Poor Sammy was running for his life. He made it inside his front door just before they caught him and he was safe.

When they returned I had my daughter tell me what had happened. Sammy had been picking on her on the school bus. She did nothing on the bus. She waited until their stop. As soon as the bus pulled away she beat the tar out of Sammy. Then she came in and incited a riot with her brothers.

My daughter is quiet in situations where there are large amounts of people. One teacher told me she would never raise her hand in class to offer an answer to a question. However he knew that she always knew the answer.  Sometimes if he could not get the correct answer from anyone else he would call on her and she always knew.

She was in all of the little programs they have at school. It is a time for the teachers to show parents things that they could be proud of. Often it involved the group standing together and singing. My daughter did not just move her mouth and pretend to sing. She did not move her mouth at all. She would just stand there looking bored occasionally raising her eyes to the ceiling the way children do.

Just as her brothers had done, she was accepted into the accelerated middle school. One of her teachers was from another country. Sometimes his upbringing would clash with the American way of life. For instance he decided that my daughter's blouse was too revealing. It not only was not, but if it had been I would not have allowed her to wear it. I do believe in a bit of modesty. He was not happy that a female parent had the temerity to disagree with him.

This teacher ran a strict classroom. I applaud that. I think he may have been too rigid but no one was hurt. One rule was that no child should speak out in class unless spoken to first. It is not a bad rule.

One day he was asking questions of the children. He would say the name of the child and that child was to answer all questions until he called on the next child. He asked my daughter a question. She answered. He asked another question and she answered again.

He exploded and said she was being insolent because he was not asking the question of her. He assigned her to write a paper about something or other. When she came home she was angry. She had tried to explain to him that he had not directed the question to another student but he was having none of it.

I called the principal and made an appointment to visit him and the teacher the next day. In the meantime I wrote a very nice note to the teacher. I explained that my daughter did not think she did anything wrong. I explained that he should be pleased that she was strong enough to stand up for her principles. I said that I understood what her punishment was supposed to be but that I would not allow her to write the paper until I spoke to him

We had a meeting. I gave my side of the story first because I had asked for the meeting. Then the teacher spoke. He had been sure he was right so he asked the other students in the class if they heard him request the answer from another student. They all said they had not. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had been hasty in assigning punishment. She would not have to write the paper.

I thanked him. Then as soon as he left I had the principal assign my daughter to another class.

My daughter has grown into a beautiful, competent young woman. She inherited intelligence and wisdom from her grandmothers.

She was working for a company owned by the same family who own the local Major League Baseball team. The company held ceremonies to award bonuses and promotions in a major theater in the city. The Christmas parties included all the sports members as well as the people who worked for the business.

My daughter had been promoted to manager of her store. She has an unusual name and people seem to like to mispronounce it. When the owner of the company called her name to come forward he mispronounced it. Other people from the company who knew her were quietly giggling and making bets on whether she would correct him when she was on the stage.

She leaned near him and told him the correct way to say her name. He blushed a bit and actually corrected himself on the microphone.

When my daughter was walking back to her seat the owner's wife stopped her and told her it was good to put the boss in his place once in a while.

My daughter has a son who will graduate from high school this year. Her daughter is two years younger. My daughter has been with their father for about twenty years.

Now you have met all my children. There will be more tales of them later. I just wanted to introduce them so you could see how special they are.

Having Babies

I was overjoyed when I found out I was going to be a mother for the first time. I had 6 little brothers and sisters. As is common in large families I helped a lot with the little ones. So I felt more than ready.

My family did not live in the same state then so I could not go to my mother with questions. I sat and listened to all the women I knew talking about the horrors of labor. I was not overly concerned because I have always had the ability to live in the moment so until it happened it had nothing to do with me.

My husband made his own preparations for getting me to the hospital when the time came. He took the experience as a good excuse to be able to run through red lights and stop signs. It would be a great adventure.

In the meantime I gained forty pounds. A lot of it was fluid because I retain fluid naturally anyway.  Soon I began feeling little butterfly ripples in my abdomen. My baby was kicking! Every mother knows that your love for your baby begins long before it it born. I do not know how it is for a father but I was totally enchanted.

My baby was due before Mother's Day. As Mother's Day got closer and closer I hoped that I would not spend my first Mother's Day in the hospital. I was not in the hospital for Mother's Day. I still had not had my baby.

In bed and sound asleep during the night after Mother's Day I woke up suddenly. My water broke. Because I slept next to the wall I had to try to get my husband who slept like a dead man to let me up. I tried to tell him what was happening.

While I was in the bathroom getting dressed he came running in demanding to know why I had wet the bed! At least he was awake.

I again explained what was happening. He ran upstairs to the apartment of a friend and woke her up. She came down to offer help. She asked if I was in labor. I did not know. Nothing hurt. But I was feeling occasional bouts of what felt like the baby strongly kicking.

She times those. They happened about 6 minutes apart. I needed to go to the hospital.

That is when my husband became sick. He went to the medicine cabinet and poured every compound he could find into his stomach to try to settle it.

Then we set off for the hospital. Would you believe it? Every traffic light was green. My poor husband did not even get the pleasure of running even one red light.

I never did experience labor pains with my first baby. I kept waiting for it to hurt.

I was placed in a room with a woman whose baby was dead. They wanted her to experience normal delivery if possible because they thought it would be better for her physical recovery.

She was in terrible pain and knew she was not going to have a baby to hold after. She became hysterical. Remembering all those stories I heard earlier I waited for that to happen to me.

The doctor came in, did a quick examination, and said, "Okay. Let's go have a baby." I never did feel any pain.

My second baby was a different experience. I woke up almost exactly at the same time the alarm clock went off. It was time for my husband to go to work. But today he would be taking me to the hospital.

Once again things progressed quickly. And I was definitely feeling some discomfort. We dropped my oldest son off to be with my mother.

My doctor cme into the labor room and gave me a quick exam. Then he said that he was going to the cafeteria for a quick cup of coffee. As he started out the door I told him the baby was coming. He told me that it would take twenty minutes for the anesthetic to take effect and he would be back then.

Well he should have listened to me. The intern was getting into his scrubs. I said the baby is here. He turned and managed to grab my son just before he landed on the table.

My husband had taken a new job out of town. Naturally he was not there when labor began for my third baby. I was experiencing contractions but they were extremely erratic. It would be twenty minutes until the next one. Then the next one would be in four minutes. Then ten minutes. Then fifteen minutes. Then three minutes. They might last ninety seconds ot five seconds. There was no regularity at all.

Mom had my brother drive us to the hospital. The whole way I kept telling her that I was not sure I was in labor. I was going to be so embarrassed if they sent me home. This was my third baby for goodness sake. I did not even know if I was in labor.

They took me upstairs. Mom stayed to fill out those papers that need to be filled out and then went to the father's waiting room. A nurse popped her head in the door and asked if anyone was there with Emma. Mom got up.

She was told she could come see me. On the way they passed the nursery. The nurse asked my mother if she would like to see the baby.

Mom explained to her that she must have the wrong person. I had just come in after all. The nurse repeated my name. Mom said yes, that was right. The nurse showed my mother her new grandson.

When my fourth child was born I was staying with my parents again. As quickly as my babies seemed to be born we were worried that I might not make it 30 miles to hospital where we lived.

I went into labor and my mother drove me to the hospital. I went in to be examined. The long and short of it was that it was a false labor. I prepared to dress and go home.

The doctor went out to tell my mother it would be probably another ten days before my baby was born. She looked at him and said, "Oh no you don't. I know how she does this. I'll get her halfway home and she'll have that baby in the car."

He told her she could have me walk the halls for a bit to see if that would do anything. After a couple of hours Mom finally gave up and took me home. My daughter was born ten days later.

As you can see each experience was different. How can that be? I am the same person. It comes down to the babies. Just as they are unique individuals now, they were unique then too. Each came in his/her own time and own way.

On Being A Mother

The one thing I always wanted to be is a mother. Other occupations were considered too. I was going to be a famous singer but I cannot sing. I was going to be a renowned actress. I can act a bit but a career like that depends largely on being in the right place at the right time. I am not lucky. I was going to be so many other professions. It depended on the time of my life and my mood at the time. But I always wanted my own children.

I did not think about being a wife except for the fact that in those days you had to be married in order to have children. I do not think it was possible to have them if you were unmarried, was it? At any rate as I look back I know I was not a good wife. I am a terrific companion but as far as being "wifely", I lack considerably.

But in order to have children the husband was a must. I was engaged for a time to a young man my father introduced me to. It was like a first love kind of thing. Again looking back I know that a marriage between us would not have worked.

I married a young man (actually we were both children... I was 18 and he was 17) who was a hard worker. We loved each other. He had little experience around children even though he came from a large family. He was one of the little ones. But I was ready to start a family.

It was two years before I had my first son. I was in heaven. He was born right after Mother's Day. My husband dug right in and was the best father he knew how to be. He took our baby with him if he went visiting and was so proud to show him off. The one thing he did not want to try was changing diapers.

After another two years I had another son. He was beautiful. We decided that we would have another child... someday. My husband wanted a daughter. But for the time being we had all we could afford.

We talked about having that "someday child" often. Meanwhile I was so enjoying my boys. We talked and played and did all those things I always had dreamed of.

When my second son was three I found out we were going to have that "someday child". I was thrilled. One of the ways that I knew I was going to have a baby is that I would wake up one morning and think, "wouldn't it be nice to have another baby?" It happened every time.

But it was a difficult pregnancy. My husband had taken a new job out of town. I was unable to travel. I could not take proper care of the two I already had. We sold our house and I went to stay with my parents. The boys loved it there.

That was the year my third son was born. Because I had such a hard time taking care of my boys I decided that I was done having children.

I wanted to have surgery to prevent me from having more babies. At that time in our state my husband had to give "permission". How archaic is that? He was not willing to do that so I used other means to prevent pregnancy.

We moved to another state as soon as the baby and I were able to travel. Because my husband was a truck driver and on the road a lot I had all three of my boys to myself.

We explored our new surroundings together. My oldest son had just started school. We stayed up late and watched scary movies on television. It was wonderful.

But I was barely home from the hospital after having son number three when I discovered that I was probably going to have another baby. When my husband came home after a week on the road I told him he would need to stay up with the boys while I went to the doctor for confirmation.

So scarcely a year later my beautiful daughter was born. My husband took the children and me back to stay with my parents while I was pregnant. I was not having problems. But the nearest place to have a baby where we were living was 30 miles away. It did not take me very long to have a baby once they finally decided it was time to be born. I would probably not make it to the hospital.

That completed our family. I convinced my husband that it would be best for me to have that surgery. He reluctantly agreed. He was on the road when our daughter was born. He headed back when he was told she was here but he did not make it in time to sign for the surgery.

The nurse that was waiting for a signature wanted to know if I was absolutely certain my husband would sign. Of course I was.

I was the first female to sign for that surgery in that state. They needed a signature of permission. My signature would do until my husband could do it legally. By the time he arrived the surgery was over. His signature would have been senseless.

I managed a rock and roll band at one time. They played 50's and 60's music. The leader of the band was announcing their next song. He said; "You know, I was 19 and in Korea when this song was popular. Do you remember what you were doing at 19?" I spoke up that I was having a baby.

Then he said, "For that matter how many of you remember what you were doing at 21?" My reply was that I was having a baby.

He got a determined look on his face and said, "Do you remember what you were doing when you were 25?" Again, "I was having a baby." He gave up but I had another baby at 26.

"They" always say that your life has been a success if you have lived your dreams.  I am a success 4 times over because my children have been everything I wanted and more.