Life with Teenagers...Who turned out Pretty Good!

When Kelly was in about the 6th Grade in Oklahoma, a DARE officer would visit her classroom periodically.  Kelly was my child who shared everything about her school day.  One day she came home and told me that the DARE officer had come to their classroom and given them a test intended for measuring their personal stress level.  The results were based on their personal activities and their home life.  Kelly laughed and told me that the officer had been stunned by her results.  In fact, he didn't believe them.  She showed virtually no stress.  Upon further investigation, I discovered the nature of the questions which he had posed to the students.  Apparently a child whose parents are still married and who don't have loud fights and arguments is a key factor for lower stress levels.  A family home that is free of alcohol and drugs rates right up there for low stress levels in children.  A child upon whom little outside demands are made - one who is allowed to play at home instead of being overly busy with sports and other outside activities - is a more stress-free child.  A home where the father is employed and the mother is home when the child gets out of school is best for less stress.  Regular church attendance and family faith agrees well with families producing lower stress, as well.  Kelly's life ticked every box.  She was the only one in the room.  In defense of the DARE officer, I'm sure it was unbelievable.

When Kelly was in the 7th grade we moved.  It was difficult.  She was shy and would have to make new friends.  I went for parent/teacher conference and her teacher confirmed what I already knew.  She was worried about Kelly.  She said, "Kelly has no friends. She is doing fine in all of her subjects and in her school work, but she has no friends."  She asked if she had neighborhood or church friends.  The truth was, no - not really.  She had us.  She had Lacey and she had a youth group, but not really any friends with whom to share things or with whom to go places.  I still felt she was pretty well adjusted and thought the best thing was to just wait.  One day her teacher asked me to fill in for her for an hour while the teachers did something else at school and I agreed.  I went home and thought about what I had witnessed.  I knew why Kelly didn't have friends.  Because there was NO ONE in her class that was like her.  She was that stress-free, lone child in her class.  I was ok with that.  In God's time, the friends came and He was molding her and making her His - the way He wanted her to be.

When Lacey was in elementary school, some of her best friends' parents decided to home school for various reasons.  Although I am a public school advocate, I decided to talk to her about it.  I asked if she would like to be home schooled.  Without hesitation she put up her little hand, palm facing toward me (as she has been known to do many times in her life) and said, "But Mom, if all of the Christians home school, what would happen to the kids in school?  Who would tell them about Jesus?"  That settled that issue.  Her little missionary/minister's heart came spilling out of her mouth and taught me a truth about what God expects of not only us, but also our children who know Him.

Kelly and Lacey were saved at a very early age - six and seven respectively.  It was with fear and trembling that I accepted their faith.  I knew and was 100% sure of my own, but questioned that 100% of theirs.  When it was pointed out to me that we can never be 100% sure of anyone but ourselves, I learned to live with it.  I learned then, that it was God who was firmly in control of my girls and He was trustworthy.

At a very early age I began praying for them.  I decided to pray scripture over their lives - that they would love the Lord their God with all of their hearts, souls, minds, and strength.  I believed that if they did that, everything else would be covered.  It freed me from having to think of everything that could go wrong or could hurt them in this world.  (Since then, I have prayed the same for all 5 of my precious grandchildren but have added the important - and they love others as they love themselves).

When they were both still in elementary school (Kelly maybe in early Junior High), I remember a conversation I had with some ladies.  We were talking about a very young girl who was wearing an "ankle bracelet" (in lieu of being incarcerated) to school.  In confidence, as a Christian mother who kept a watchful eye on her children, I said, "Well, she would not be welcome in my home."  Another lady was standing there who was obviously greatly disturbed by my determined declaration and asked, "Really?  Why?"  I might have falter just a bit but then jumped in with all the wisdom and authority I could muster at her backlash and said, "Because I have two girls who are impressionable and at a vulnerable age who might be influenced by her bad behavior.  I won't have that and I don't think I'm wrong.  I should protect my children."  But I never forgot the conversation.  I have seen God work in my life in this way many times.  I make a statement to stand by - He shows me how wrong I am.  Years later, when my daughters were in High School, I looked around a room in our home and laughed out loud, as I remembered this encounter.  There were teenagers from all walks of life sitting around in our "back room" where Jesus' love was shown and experienced. Many of them had unfortunate life experiences - things I would have never willingly exposed to my children.  But Jesus changes lives - and yes, He had indeed, used my children to reach their friends in school.

Kelly is my tell-all child.  When she went to her first dance in the 6th grade she came home and told me all about the way kids were slow dancing.  She told me about the boy sticking his hand in her best friend's back pocket.  I was so glad she was shocked by it.  But I knew I couldn't be, or she would never tell me anything again.  I was blessed to have a relationship with my girls and their friends where talking freely was encouraged.  I caught a lot more "flies" with the sweet honey of communication and avoided many of the pesky complications of the teen years by serving it generously.  As my girls grew into their teen years, I was often privy to "girl talk" amongst them and their girlfriends, so I knew much of what was happening, not only in their lives but also in the lives of other teenagers.  It hurt my heart that so many parents were oblivious to the activities of their teens or just found it easier to stay naive.   I don't want to leave the impression that I knew everything that happened.  Although I don't think I missed any of the really big issues, I certainly did find out things that would have not pleased me after the fact quite often.

As I said before, Kelly and Lacey were both saved at a very young age.  Even though I could not be 100% sure of their relationship with Jesus, I could and did keep the lines of communication open with them, talking about Him and His love and salvation often in our home.  (The car - commutes were a great place for conversations like these).  In their young teen/pre-teen years I had an encounter with each of them that helped me to know and believe their conversion was the real deal.

Mickey and I decided to help lead a "middle school ministry" in our church.  Our school had Middle School and the students didn't fit - they were too old for the elementary program and too young for youth.  We had a great support system of a paid youth intern and parents who worked with us.  We had parties and activities that were of interest to them and we got to know them better.  One of the things we did was Middle School Camp.  I went as a parent sponsor.  When you mix emotional music and a motivational Bible teacher with raging hormonal pre-teens, you get a flood of young people at alter call - and that was exactly what happened.  There was a lot of crying and hugging and decision making.  I think we had six or seven who made new commitments to Christ, saying their initial salvation experience had not been real and they wanted to make it real.  I watched Lacey throughout this week of services.  She prayed and worshiped and carried on.  When I got a chance to speak to Lacey alone, I probed - which she always hated (hates).  I asked her what she thought of all of her friends getting RE-saved.  She said, "Oh, Mom, I am so happy for them."  I dug a little deeper and asked, "What about you?"  She looked at me without blinking and said almost in disgust, "MOooM - I was saved when I was seven and I know it and I am still saved and I know it."  That settled it.  I was so much closer to 100% and I never even doubted or questioned her faith again.

Kelly called late one night when she had been to an event with her youth group.  She was calling for a ride home but she was excited and crying.  She was in the eighth grade.  She and her homie girls had gone with our interim youth guy to a Power Team event in Springdale at the big church there.  She said, "Mom...the most wonderful thing happened tonight.  I got baptized!"  I was a bit taken back and said to my emotionally over-taken daughter, "Okay..we'll be right there to get you and then we'll talk about it."  She and all of her friends had been herded into a side room after making their way to the alter following a call for everyone who loved Jesus to do so.  Before going into the room they were challenged with this statement, "If you love Jesus but you have ever had a doubt about your salvation, then you are not saved.  You can be tonight if you say this prayer and then we are going to baptize you."  The interim youth director didn't know what to do.  He had all of these 7th and 8th grade girls who were swelling with emotion and standing in line with their curtesy pair of dry panties in hand, waiting to be baptized and re-baptized.  As they went through the waters and came out one by one, he was standing there waiting on them.  The well known pastor of the church approached them and queried, "Who are you girls here with?".  Brad stepped forward and claimed them noting they were from his church.  Without looking at or acknowledging Brad, he kept his eyes on these five young girls and said, "Well, now that you have been baptized here, you are members of our church.  We will be in touch with you."  As they got into Brad's vehicle, one burst into tears and said, "I am Methodist and my momma doesn't want me to be Baptist!"  Brad didn't really know what to do so he brought them home.  I did, however, know what to do.  I picked up my eighth grader and took her home.  Her dad and I sat down with her and began to talk about what had happened.  We listened to her story.  We reminded her again, as we had often done, of her commitment to Jesus and baptism when she was six.  We had never talked about recommitment or rededication before and so we took that opportunity.  She listened intently.  At the end of the conversation she offered this evaluation on her own - she had never considered a need for recommitting her life to Christ as a possibility, having been saved at such an early age.  She determined that night that she had merely been swimming and that her first baptism was indeed her real baptism. That night was a time of recommitment that she never forgot.   That I know of, she has not recanted or changed her mind about that.  Her heart has belonged to Jesus as her Lord for practically her whole life.  Her momma knew it too - almost to 100%.  The next morning I met with Brad to talk about what had happened.  He was still in shock and didn't quite know what to do.  The other girls who had also been baptized were one of Kelly's friends who had previously made a profession of faith but her parents had asked the pastor to wait to baptize her until the family could be there, a girl whose family were not even Believers and our own pastor's daughter.  We fondly remember it as the time Kelly went swimming in the Baptistry.  As for the others, the new convert who was waiting for her family claimed the experience for her real baptism and the family dealt with it, the girl from the non-believing family continued to come to church as long as we lived there and the pastor's daughter had to be re-re-baptized because her father made her do it.  The girls' membership had to be "moved" back to our home church.

The family was sitting around our table talking about Kelly going to High School.  We were looking at information about the different tracks that the school offered.  Lacey was listening while she was busy with some other work at the table.  I said, "Well, Kelly, since you have never made anything but A's on your report cards, I really think you need to take the college prep track."  Lacey's head almost swirled on her neck in disbelief.  She exclaimed, "WHAT?  Did you say that Kelly has never made anything but A's?"  She continued, "You mean to tell me that all this time she has been smarter than me and I didn't even know it?"  Then she dropped her head and banged it on the table.  The rest of us looked at each other in disbelief not knowing how to respond.  It was stunning and also a little humorous but we dared not laugh - she was devastated by the unhidden revelation.  Grades had never been a major focus in our house.  We wanted the girls to do well.  We wanted them to succeed.  But we also wanted them to be balanced in work and play.  We wanted them to do their own work and learn at their own pace.  We never pushed them or did their homework for them.  We didn't focus too much on their report cards. We did't give rewards or punishment based on grades.  We knew they were very different and that their learning styles were very different.  Their strengths and weaknesses were also different.  We were very glad that on that night, it was Lacey's first clue that she and her sister excelled in different ways and that she had not known that because of the way we treated her.

God had planned for and made them both.  He had given them each their own abilities and even disabilities.  Through the years we discovered and sought out those differences, giving each of them room to grow and excel in the areas where they fit the best.  Lacey was a springy little Tigger and Kelly was an Eeyore (Characters from Winnie-the-Pooh).  Lacey never met a stranger and Kelly would hide behind my legs.  Lacey didn't focus well on book studies and Kelly was a book worm.  Lacey was a kinesthetic learner and Kelly learned the more traditional way - highly visual and highly auditory.  As they grew into the teen years and beyond, their own experiences began to define them and they had somewhat of a role reversal.  Lacey became more private and introverted and Kelly burst forth into a social butterfly who was more extroverted but still had some shy tendencies.

When Kelly was 16 she had a group of friends that were her homies.  They were mostly a year younger than her and then she also had a good friend with whom she had reconnected in the eighth grade who was her age.  She met Sarah in the 7th grade - remember that class which in which she had no friends?  Sarah had been her lone friend - someone who was more like her.  Sarah was shy and was a little chubby, like Kelly.  She and Kelly began a friendship out of loneliness and isolation, I think.  Unfortunately, Sarah developed Mono and was put on home study for much of their 7th grade year.  That left Kelly alone again.  Kelly joined the Acteens (a teen missional group at church) and there she found her stride - and many friends who were like her.  They were all a year younger than her, but they loved her and she loved them.  When Sarah returned to school, she also became a part of this band of fun-loving girlfriends.

As I had said before, Kelly could not keep from telling us everything - the whole plot of the movie or book, what other kids at school had done wrong, and any injustice that she had witnessed.  One night we were in our room and everyone was getting ready for dinner.  Kelly appeared in our doorway and was quite distressed.  We invited her in and waited for her to speak.  "Mom and Dad, I have to tell you something..." she began to tear up and choked on her words.  We were anxiously waiting for some really bad news.  She burst out, "I let Angela drive my car!"  (Angela was only 15 and driver license-less).  "She wanted to and so I let her.  I know you told me to never let anyone else drive my car but I did."  She proceeded to tell us the details.  Mickey and I sat there with our mouths virtually dropped open and not believing she was telling on herself.  We waited and listened, not sure of what we should do or say.  The deed had been done and was in the past.  She had not been able to contain her own guilt and had suffered from it's cruel nagging.  We later acknowledged that neither of us would have ever confessed such to our parents. And although we were proud of her for doing so, we realized that it was a little freaky to have a child who would do such of a thing.  As straight-faced as possible I said, "Well, you know we are going to have to punish you for this, right?"  She humbly agreed, which made it all the much harder to hold back a grin.  All the while I was trying to come up with an appropriate punishment that fit the crime yet was generous in recognition of the confession.  I said, "You will be grounded from driving for two weeks."  I of course added, "And don't ever do it again."  She nodded and in relief said, "I just couldn't not tell you.  It was coming between me and God." She did her time and we were amazed.

The time came for us to move "home".  Lacey had been chosen to be a cheerleader for the following year and Kelly was going into her Junior year of High School.  Lacey was almost relieved and very excited to know we were moving back to Batesville with the Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles and Cousins.  Kelly threw something at the mini-blind, in anger, and broke it.  Then she almost immediately began to accept it.  We had experienced loss and hurt and we needed the safety net of home and family.  We weren't sure about moving Lacey as a Junior High student or Kelly in her last high school years, but we knew we all needed the new start.  Mickey would be traveling all the time and I needed the support of family and old friends and our church.

As we pulled into town, Lacey looked at Kelly and said, "Well, Kelly - it looks like it is you and me.  We will have to be each other's best friends."  Although they may not have meant it or intended it, I think that is exactly what happened.  They became best friends for a life time.

When we moved home, having been raised in Batesville and lived there for many years, we knew the town.  We knew the pitfalls and we knew the people.  Our first conversation with our eighth grade and eleventh grade daughters went something like this:  You are not allowed to go to the River to hang out - where drugs and alcohol are passed around.  You are not allowed to go to the bowling alley - because people die there.  You may have anyone you want to come to your house at any time.  Those were our basic rules.  Kelly reacted in disgust by saying, "NO ONE will ever want to come here!" (My favorite day was when we had about 30 kids over at our house and I reminded Kelly that she had said that).  I wasn't worried too much about Lacey because she was still young, didn't drive and had her cousins to be friends with.  It was Kelly that I worried over.  She was driving in the last years of High School and wasn't quite sure of herself even yet.  The first morning of High School, she walked into the BHS campus and was greeted by an old elementary friend who came over to her and said, "Kelly, you come and stand with us."  What a blessing that young man was on that day.  Kelly's best friend from grade school was there and they had remained somewhat connected.  She was a part of that group of people.  Although those people didn't become her primary friends, they did remain school friends until she graduated.  She and Lacey both found their place with the youth at First Baptist.  About two weeks after moving back to Batesville, Kelly and Lacey came in after school and asked, "Mom, can we have $5 apiece?"  Of course, I was curious and asked what they were going to do with $5.  "We're going to the thrift shop and buying T-shirts.  We can get 5 for $5."  Kelly added, "That is the way I'm going to dress now."  OH, NO!  What was happening to my cute teenage girls who were just at the fun shopping age? I knew that their new youth pastor, Daren, and the youth at First Baptist with whom they had both identified were of great influence.  I wasn't sure that I like it.

I made it my business to "get to know" this young whipper snapper of a youth pastor who was influencing my girls in dress, actions, and music.  It was all so foreign to me.  I felt a little out of control.  I went to a ballgame and found him sitting alone.  I plopped myself down beside him and introduced myself.  He didn't even look at me and hardly acknowledged me.  I didn't like him and was a little rattled.  He had bright yellow died hair that was stiff enough to poke an eye out if he decided to use it as a weapon.  He had on heavy metal chains, torn jeans and a T-shirt that was tight and old and even worn out.  He spoke with a rude mumble to me and shouted to a youth across the room, probably jabbing them about something they were doing.  He laughed loudly - but not with or at me.  My girls loved this boy already.  Not in a romantic way but in awe and respect for his teachings and ministry.  I knew I had to learn to love him, too.  Not only my girls loved him, but the young people of the whole town loved him.  He imparted Jesus and Jesus' teachings.  He bore fruit - which was his single minded intent.  The adults didn't understand him and many didn't like him.  He was an agent of change and most did not want the change that was inevitable.  Ultimately, my girls learned more about how to treat others and how to love Jesus under his ministry than any other time in their lives.  They are his fruit.

It wasn't long until they drove him away.  They dragged him around then through the mud.  They mocked him and scolded his followers.  Then they stabbed him and wounded him.  When they did, they wounded my very own...but not to the point of death.  God was still on the throne of their hearts and mine survived the near fatal wound and lived to be ministers of the Gospel today.  He, too lives and thrives for Jesus' sake.

What I did like was the day when my eleventh grade, typically shy, daughter walked in and announced to me, "Mom, I've decided that I don't care what other people think...I am going to be myself and be ok with it."  She blossomed after that.  She came into her own.  She learned to play guitar and started her career of songwriting.  She and her new homies began singing and playing together.  She and Lacey enjoyed being a part of each other's lives.  Lacey hadn't found the close friendships that I thought she would in her class.  She was the youngest of the group of girls that would mold my girls' lives from that point on.  They had a strong identification with these girls who ranged from Kelly's to Lacey's ages.  There were six of them who did life together that year.  They became bonded and grew close together, embracing my girls as though they'd always been friends.
They also found some young men who came to mean a lot to them over the years.  So they had it - deep friendships that would help them develop good relationships for their futures.  I was learning what it meant to be the mother of emerging teenagers.

During those years they did some things that I didn't know about but found out soon after the fact.  Kelly backed out and hit our brand new car in the door because she was running late and didn't want to ask someone to move it.  Kelly pulled out of the driveway with the door still open as Lacey was getting in, scraping the door of our van as she went.  Lacey jumped out of the car while it was going because she had made Kelly late and Kelly wasn't going to let her out in front of her school.  Yes, I see a theme - Kelly shouldn't have been trusted to drive.

There were other things.  Lacey's wardrobe took a severe downhill slide after she began thrift store shopping.  She wore a scary attire including Doc Martin black army lace up boots with dresses, a grey sweatshirt skirt and either black or grey shirts, and a black hoodie with Abortion is Mean written on the front.  She cut her hair really short and had braces during those years.  She wore white eye-liner and black mascara as well as metal jewelry.  She did not get tattoos or color her hair but she did secretly let a girl pierce under her tongue with a safely pin and tried to do the same to a friend of hers in the bathroom at school.  She listened primarily to hard rock Christian music and bands who screamed instead of singing.

Kelly pulled up in front of the High School one morning and sat there.  She looked down and just couldn't bring herself to get out.  She had worn some plaid men's bowling pants to school, thinking they were cool when she put them on but then second guessed her decision once she got to school.  A guy friend of hers, who was apparently late, saw her sitting in her car and came to see what was going on.  She stepped out and he fell on the ground in laughter.  That was enough for her, so when he got up, she walked in with him proudly.  However, she never wore them again, that I know of.

There were many more experiences that I could write about but my time is slipping away.  I want to be sure and tell about the Jesus loving, people loving and serving and ministers of the gospel they became during this time in their lives.  They were known as friends who could be counted on.  They studied their Bibles and did a daily quiet time and kept journals.  They helped everyone who needed it.  They were friends to the friendless.  They never judged others but accepted people for who they were.  They built a foundation that would carry them and many of their friends through difficult times and hardships.  They didn't date in high school because they chose not to do so.  They had relationships with young men who were good friends and went on group dates instead.  They waited until college to experience love and romantic relationships.  They were not encumbered by this world and its trappings.

I'm so glad God allowed me along for the ride.  It was and is still, so much fun.  I learned so much that I would not trade.  I take no credit nor do I boast in anything but Christ alone as a mother.  He created, planned and molded my children into the women they are today.

Birthing Story #1 - Kelly Nicole Jones

I'm not sure what happened to "Birthing Story #1 - Kelly Nicole Jones"...so here it is!

Mickey and I got married young.  We were both 21.  He was still in college and working a more than full time part-time job.  Knowing we would both have to provide for our living expenses, I had quit college and was working the night shift at a local factory.  We lived in Batesville in married student housing on Arkansas College's campus.  Mickey worked as a night computer operator in Newport at a local factory.  When we got married, Mickey was entering his Junior year as a Data Processing and Mathematics Major.  We enjoyed our life together, had a lot of friends and family close by.  I'm not sure what our thought process was, but we made the decision that we wanted a baby and we didn't want to wait until it was sensible.

I think I called him from a pay phone at work to tell him the news.  I was indeed pregnant and due at the end of April - about the time he would be graduating from college.

I worked throughout my pregnancy.  I was a calibrator and tester for hot water heater controls.  The job was not as hard for some of us who were younger and we were fast.  Management recognized that we could do the job and pretty much left us alone as long as we didn't get QC rejects.  I was standing over a hot tank of water, lifting trays of hot water heater controls, moving to a tester, pushing and pulling racks of controls around and when my belly got big enough, they left me on the tester.  It was demanding physically.  But I was happy and healthy.

We decided to move in with my parents the first of April.  We knew that I was due about the time Mickey would graduate and we couldn't stay in married student housing after that.  We also knew that we would be moving somewhere else and couldn't sign a lease or get another place to live for that month.  My parents were happy to have us (or at least acted as though they were).

On April 14, Mickey went to school, as expected and Mom went out of town to see her parents.  I woke up and could not straighten up.  I was in tremendous pain.  It didn't seem like labor because it was constant.  I was still two weeks away from my due date.  This was my first child and everyone knows first children don't come early...in fact, we'd been told to expect it to be up to two weeks late.  The pain was unbearable and so I made the call to my sister, Jo.  She could come and get me and take me to the doctor.

She was surprised to see me walking bent over and feeling so sick.  We decided to just go to my doctor's office.  When we got there, I was miserable! I couldn't sit still.  Jo took matters into her own hands.  She told the office girl that if he couldn't see me NOW, she would take me to the ER and he would have to leave his patients to come over there.  I got in immediately.  I don't know how he got word, (I guess Jo called the school - no cell phones in those days, you know) but Mickey showed up at the doctor's office.  He had examined me and turned to Mickey and said, "Does she give into pain easily?"  I was bent over, unable to talk, and so glad my husband was there to answer for me...and THEN he said, "...Yeahhh".  WHAT?  If I'd had the strength, I would have socked him!! The doctor determined that I was scarred of having the baby and that he needed to give me a shot to relax me.  He gave me a big old shot of Demerol that not only made me loopy, but conked me out!  And then the real problems began.

He sent me home and all day that day, I slept - except when I was throwing my guts up.  Jo stayed with me and put me on Mom and Dad's bed.  I couldn't get up.  I couldn't function. I don't know how many times I threw up in the trash can beside the bed.  I do remember that Jo leaned in at one time and she had been eating Frito chips and the smell was so repulsive that I once again lost it.  What had once been food on my stomach all came up and then I began to throw up bile.  Now that was disgusting.

Late in the afternoon my mother got home.  I have dream-like memories of the rest of that day.  She came rushing into her room where I was half unconsciously lying and began giving orders.  She told Mickey to get me a housecoat and shoes.  She was excitedly mad and worried at the same time.  She didn't hide it.  I was helped to the car and taken immediately to the ER.  When I got out of the car, with Mickey's help, I was goose stepping and out of control.  A nurse saw me coming and ran out with a wheelchair.  She didn't hide her anxiety either.  She knew something was wrong.  She started asking questions and was shocked when told that I'd had a shot of Demerol that morning.  I knew she disapproved.

I don't have a good memory of much that happened next, except that my mother was in charge.  She probably saved my life and the life of my baby that night.  The Radiologist, Dr. Charles McClain (a dear friend of ours), was called in.  He looked directly at my doctor and asked, "Do you know where this baby's head is?" to which he nodded.  The ultrasound and x-rays revealed that I had blockage from gall stones.  My liver, pancreas and gall bladder were all blocked.  I was admitted to the hospital while waiting on decisions about delivery and what to do about this monstrous gall bladder attack were made by my doctor.

My mother was so mad at my doctor.  She had known him as a youngster at church and was never really comfortable with him as my physician.  He had said the wrong thing to her.  Before the x-rays, he had told her it was all in my head...that I was just afraid and the pain was in my head.  She told him, in not so nice of a tone, I'm sure, that HER children did not have problems in the head.  He was put on notice (at least in her mind).

My mother-in-law worked nights at a hotel as a clerk.  She came to the hospital to stay with me and let everyone else go home.  My face was so hot.  I needed to pee.  This was the way our night went.  I would ask her to turn over my pillow, she would get up and do it.  She would settle back down.  I would tell her I needed the bed pan.  She would get up and get it for me and help me on it.  I could't pee.  She would settle back down.  Then we would repeat the process over and over - all night long.  What an angel she was and I never forgot it.  I always called her on April 14 and asked her if she remembered what she was doing (however many) years ago tonight.  She never forgot either.

Mickey had Senior Tests the next day, April 15.  I told him to go on.  We laugh about it today and wonder how he did.  I'm not sure we ever got results, but he graduated.  His father was and IRS auditor - how appropriate that his first (and only that he ever knew) grandchild would be born on Income Tax Day.  But I am getting ahead.

The decision was made late in the afternoon to bring the baby on.  I was given a drip to begin labor and we waited.  But not for long.  They hooked me up to a monitor and as I was lying there, I began to notice the activity on it.  I asked the nurse, "Was that a contraction?"  She said, "Yes.  Honey, can't you feel that?"  I could't because the gall bladder blockage pain was too intense.  I felt the urge to push and said so.  On the gurney, the quickly wheeled me into the delivery room.  Mickey was with me. I remember the doctor saying to me, "I just need you to know that in the case I have to make a decision, I always save the mother's life."  I nodded my head - really not thinking there was a chance of that - being naive and stupid about the real danger we were both in.

The time had come to deliver.  I wasn't given any extra pain reliever, but probably the shot from the day before hadn't worn completely off.  I had about two contractions that I actually felt and it was time to push.  A little girl came out, blue and was whisked away quickly.  Her apgar was and 8 because she didn't breath immediately, but when she did, she pinked up quickly.  She had a full head of dark hair and very dark eyes and she was perfect.  Her head was round and her skin was already darker than mine.  She was like a doll.

After explaining to me that I could not nurse her because I would be on too many powerful drugs over the next weeks, I told them to give her a bottle.  They pretty much knocked me out and I didn't know a lot for the next day or two.  I did get to hold her and feed her, but Mickey had to be with me at all times.  I was kept in the hospital for the next week as they administered very strong IV antibiotics.  The gall stone had pushed through upon my delivering my baby and I had to heal now.

In those days there was no rooming in with the baby.  They kept them in the nursery.  Kelly was in the nursery with 12 other babies - all boys except her.  The grandparents weren't allowed to hold her or touch her.  No one but Mickey and I were allowed to do that.  One day I walked down the hall to see her and she was missing from her crate.  I asked where she was and they took me to an isolation room.  The nurse on duty was very secretive but because I asked why she had to tell me.  She had a very small spot of staff infection and had to be kept away from the other babies.  Staff infection is common in hospitals and she had contracted it.  They treated her for it and it quickly cleared up.

At the end of the week, Mom came to see me one day.  There was an older black nurse tending me that day.  She caught on that Mom had never gotten to hold her only grand daughter and was aghast.  She went and got scrubs and put them on Mom and brought Kelly to her.  It was a happy day for all three of us.  Finally after a week, the doctor released us and we got to go home where I continued to recover and learned how to care for a baby - from the best, my mom.

Birthing Story #2 - Lacey Rebecca Jones

(*graphic warning)  31 years ago right now, I was lying on my bed watching the clock.  I couldn't sleep...the contractions were sporadic but definitely occurring quite frequently.  Mickey and I had been playing PacMan earlier that evening when I was stunned by a shooting pain across my abdomen.  I was three weeks away from my baby's due date, so it came very unexpectedly.  I threw myself on the bed and began to roll around like a wounded animal.  Mickey was wide-eyed and didn't quite know what to think.  I told him to call my doctor in Newport and tell him that I was not coming there and that I was going to the hospital in Batesville which happened to be right across the street from where we lived.  I didn't think I could make it there.  I had not had a good birthing experience the first time having had a gall bladder attack the day before, and I fully expected everything to go like clock work this time - not what I was then experiencing.  He called my doctor - the one I had chosen because of his good reputation as an excellent and caring physician.  He had seen me through some tough months of my pregnancy including a cancer scare and shingles.  He calmly assured Mickey that the baby's head was just moving into place and told him to bring me to Newport if my contractions became consistent and closer together.  Mickey passed on that assurance but called my sister to come and get Kelly to spend the night - "just in case".  So, there I was - clock watching.  The next morning, I was still feeling strange but Mickey, who worked in Newport, went on to work.  I got ready to go to Newport later that morning for my regularly scheduled appointment with the doctor.  Soon it became clear that I should probably call someone to take me on over to the hospital as my contractions leveled and became more consistent.  I called my mother and told her that I needed a ride.  This is what I said to her..."I think I'm really in labor and I need to go to Newport to the hospital, but I am not riding with you.  Would you call Dad?"  Mickey's mother was at the beauty shop and in those days, without cell phones, you couldn't get a woman out from under the hairdryer for anything!  Dad and Mom came to get me.  As I got into the car, a contraction began.  I started my breathing for some relief and looked at my watch.  As the next one began, my dad looked in the rear view mirror and asked me how far apart they were.  "Oh, five minutes...", I said.  He looked shocked and I felt the car speed up a little.  We arrived at the hospital and everyone there was calm.  They took me into an examination room and confirmed that I was indeed, in labor.  Mickey met us at the hospital and we began the wait.  It was about 11:00 or so in the morning by that time.  I was definitely feeling my labor pains by then.  We would talk some and I was falling asleep in between.  I was so tired from the night before.  After 2:00 pm I felt a gush and thought my water had broken - a very normal procedure in the course of child birth.  I don't mean to be relating too much information here, but to my surprise when the nurse came to check, what she found was not water at all, it was blood - and a lot of it.  She threw a sheet over me and in an elevated, panicky-type voice started moving my gurney.  She looked at Mickey and said, "The scrubs are in there.  I don't have time to mess with you now."  We were moving but I didn't know why.  I just thought it was time.  She wheeled me into the delivery room and a flurry of activity began.  My doctor came running in and told me to push.  I did.  He then leaned over me and said, "Little Pet, you have to push this baby out this time.  It is in trouble."  I knew what must be done.  I pushed with all my might and with every fiber of my being, letting out the most hair raising scream that could be heard all over the hospital, I'm sure, and not caring at that moment what it must have looked like or sounded like.  My poor Dad and Mom were just out in the hall and later told me how horrible it was for them.  But I did it.  She was born and I heard the doctor ask if she had footprints and finger prints.  They laid her on my tummy and I got my first look at this tiny 6 lb and 7 oz, three week early baby girl.  She was covered with that waxy white film and with blood.  She was gurgling and making a coughing sound.  She was grey.  She was ugly and I said so.  "She is so ugly, ' were my first words about this precious life who had been born under trauma and survived.  We found out later that the placenta had actually torn the night before when I had felt that huge pain.  She had been drowning for 12 hours.  Oh, how good my God is.  He wanted her to be on this earth.  She shouldn't have made it.  I shouldn't have made it.  I never felt fear because I was protected by my ignorance of the situation.  As I settled in my bed, sitting on the most amazing tea bag treatment, I called the nurse and said, "Would you bring me my baby?".  She was a little reluctant, but didn't tell me why.  She brought Lacey to me and and as she was handing her over she said, "Umm, we have been having to suction her nose and throat very often to remove the blood that she swallowed.  She had blood in her first bowel movement, you know."  Well, no I didn't.  And please, don't leave her here with me.  I might kill her.  My thoughts were running rampant.  That was when I realized that there had been real danger in her delivery.  It wasn't long until the doctor came to see me and gave me the news that my heart had gone a little wonky during delivery.  He would be setting up tests and watching me closely over the next few weeks.  There was a slight snow that was falling on February 5th, the day we were released from the hospital.  There was no car seat and nothing to protect any of us.  Just a steady hand on the wheel of the car, navigating a familiar road, as a proud Dad took his pride and joy home to begin life as a family of four.  Our family was complete.