I missed posting by a day, but Misti's appearance into this world was quite a journey to be sure.
My Misti Rebecca, now 36 years old as of yesterday, wife of one, mother of two, sister of four. Where did the years go?
My hubby was in the Army and stationed away from us. Our son, then called Billy John, was 3 and 1/2. He will be 40 in December and my mom still calls him Billy John, instead of Bill. I think it's cute
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Even the doctor wasn't certain why Misti decided to make her appearance into this world 2 months earlier than her due date. All he said is sometimes something starts to go wrong and nature takes its course and gets the baby out of trouble. Well, there was trouble outside of the womb as well.
The day started like any other day. I was busy with my little wild child, Billy John, cleaning the house, then deciding to climb upon the kitchen counter to hang up a plaque I had just made with the saying, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." I thought it was quite ironic actually, since I started to bleed while still on the counter. At first I didn't realize what it was, but soon found out. You have to understand that through my pregnancy I was just as active as I had always been, taking care of everything while hubby was in Viet Nam and then Virginia.
I think I called my mother first and asked her what she thought I should do. I wasn't bleeding a lot, but enough at 7 months to be concerned. She had me call the hospital, military you understand, and they told me to come in and get checked. Mom came over and my sister watched Bill. The doctor checked me and told me to go home and get some bed rest with my feet elevated. My mom didn't like that idea at all. No way was she going to let me stay by myself at the house with just Bill. So she insisted I go home with her, 8 miles away. So we packed me, Bill and the dog up.
We got to my parent's house and we had barely walked into the kitchen and my water broke. My mother called my sister-in-law to see if she could take me back to the hospital and my mom would stay at the house with my Bill and my little brother who was 5 years old.
It's quite embarrassing when no matter what you do to try and pad yourself, the water just keeps coming. By the time we went up on the elevator, I was soaked. Needless to say, they kept me this time and I sent my sister-in-law on her way. They put me in this little cubby of a room and actually told me to get some sleep, turned off the lamp, walked out and closed the door. Well, I have this thing about people closing me up in small spaces, so I flipped the light back on. I don't know how many times the nurse came back in and turned it back off. Then the contractions started. I don't mean every few minutes, I mean like, the baby is coming. They couldn't believe it.
So off I go to the operating room and a very handsome, but very tired looking doctor comes in. He yawns and jokingly asked me if I couldn't have waited until he had gotten some sleep since he had been awake and on duty for 24 hours? Now that was reassuring to me.
Of course I had her natural, since it's a no-no to give the mother anything if the baby is premature, but being so little, she just popped out and there she was, a squalling, 3 pound 9 and 1/2 ounce darling with a whole head of black hair. The neonatal team was standing by and rushed her off. I was fine, but my precious tiny girl was not. She had hyaline-membrane disease. It's something to do with the lungs not being fully developed because of coming too early. She was born in the wee hours of the morning, 2 something.
She spent her first two weeks in an incubator, which was hooked up to monitors. She would forget to breathe, so the bells and lights would go off and the nurses would go over and flick the bottom of her feet and she would start breathing again. Before I was allowed to go home, I would stand by the window and watch her. The first time it happened, I couldn't breathe myself. Back then, military hospitals were very strict and visitors, including parents at the windows was limited. One nurse was absolutely hateful about it. I wanted so desperately to shout at her that my baby could die, but I'm limited to how long I can watch her?
Everyday I would go to the hospital to see her, then after two weeks, the doctors were sure she would survive and she was taken out of the incubator and I was allowed to hold her and once a day come and give her a bottle. This went on for another two weeks. Although the military hospitals had rules that a baby couldn't go home before the baby reached 5 pounds, they actually let me bring her home by the time she weighed a little over 4 and 1/2 pounds. They told me that they knew I was a very caring mother and they thought she would thrive better with me at home. Oh I forgot, one day when I went to the hospital to see her, the front of her head had been shaved to hook monitors to her. The doctor smiled and told me he thought she needed a haircut, poor baby!
Back then they didn't make preemie clothes, so we went all over trying to find doll clothes to fit her. She was so tiny compared to Bill, who was 8 pounds 9 ounces when he was born. What a difference!
She was beautiful and still is. And the funniest thing is, out of my five children, she has always been the healthiest.
I don't know if it was because she had to stay in the hospital for a month and didn't get that first initial bonding with us, but she didn't like to be held or touched unless it was her idea. In fact my mother-in-law told me she hoped we would have another little girl who would be lovable. Don't get me wrong, Misti had her moments, but always on her terms. Since she has been married since 1999 and have two precious children, she has become a little more lovable to us. I'm talking about allowing her mom, dad and sisters to give her a hug without backing away. In fact at her high school graduation I told her ahead of time to be prepared because she was going to get a hug whether she wanted one or not. To her kids and niece and nephew, she is super loving to them. She loves her husband without question.
Her daddy finally came home when she was about 6 weeks old from Virginia, where he was stationed. It's a long story, so I won't bore anyone with details.
So that's how Misti came into this world 36 years ago. Her photo is in the post before this one. The one on your far left in yellow. All my girls look younger than their ages, just like I have always done and my mother as well. It's a gene pool thing.
I hope I haven't embarrassed Misti too much by posting this. She is very shy sometimes, like her brother, Bill. But our three youngest made up for it, oh my. My hubby can be very shy and quiet and basically I'm not. Can you tell? LOL! But I can be very shy and quiet. Depends on the circumstances.
My Misti is an amazing young woman, wife and mother. Her sisters always comment how wonderful she is now, because when they were growing up they say how mean she was. Now girls, that can't be true, can it?
I Love You, Dear Misti. Happy Birthday! When you get back tomorrow from visiting your sister in Georgia, just be prepared. You are going to get a big hug!
MOM
Karen 
