Baby Joy...all grown up ..and Racing Motorcycles.

I have not one clue as to how these pictures got onto this blog..ha ha ..

Chapter 9

Fourteen months after Emily was born I was in for a big surprise. I began to feel ill and left work early to see my doctor, who was also my Godfather. I described my symptoms and he asked if I could be pregnant. I told him it was highly unlikely because I was still on the Birth Control Pill. No fever, no congestion suggested that it might just be allergies. At least that was the initial diagnosis. He took some blood and sent me home.

I got some rest that night and returned to work the next day. A few hours into my shift and I received a phone call. It was my Godfather.
"Well Julie, you are pregnant." He said.
"Sure Uncle Joe..right!" I laughed
"You ARE pregnant Julie." He said again.
I turned towards the phone and lowered my voice, "You are kidding - right??" I said softly.
"I don't kid about things like this." He responded.

I think I said good-bye before I hung up the phone. I was stunned. We had just signed papers to buy an old house out in the country that needed a complete renovation. I was scared ...but God knew what He was doing by giving Emily a playmate!

Chapter 8

Spring was coming and my Mother and I started to plan a Baptismal Ceremony and party for Emily. We sent out elegant invitations to family and friends and catered a nice dinner Sunday after the Service. It was held at my parents beautiful house that was designed for entertaining.

Emily was about 9 months old. She was quiet and shy - but very curious. I was worried about her becoming bored and fussy during the ceremony. I was also worried about the part of the service where the minister holds the child. This man, although kind and gentle, was quite large, had a full beard and wore thick glasses. All I could envision was Emily's horrified reaction towards Santa just months prior!

It was a private service and the small chapel was packed. Everything was going well and Emily was in a delightful mood. My Dad played the organ and Mom was in the front row with Emily's bottle in hand. The moment of truth arrived. I handed her over to the minister. He took her from me and held her in his right arm and held the prayer book in his left. At first Emily, leaned back and frowned as she looked at the strange man who was now in control of her...but did not make a sound. "Whewwww!" I thought. Her expression softened after a moment and I assumed we were in the clear. Following along in my prayer book, I would occasionally look up to monitor the situation. Reading along word for word, all of a sudden the minister hesitated. I looked up to see Emily poking his glasses on the side with her index finger. This made them move up and down on his nose and he was unable to read. I heard someone in the congregation snort as they tried to hold back laughter. The minister laid the book on the baptismal font. Still holding Emily with his right arm, he now had to hold his glasses with his left hand. Emily continued to poke, but became frustrated with the interference. She stared at him for a long moment with her index finger still pointing up. Without any warning she rammed her finger up the ministers nose. The congregation howled laughter. With tears streaming down his face and a red nose running profusely, he handed Emily back to me.
"Let us Pray." He said in desperation!
The sanctification of the ceremony was lost ...but the memory will never die!

Chapter 7

With all that I have experienced in life, I would highly recommend that women wait until they are at least 25 to marry and no less than 28 to have a baby! I am thoroughly convinced that very young mothers, as I was, do not have all their maternal instincts intact...to put it mildly! There is a wrestling match in the body and brain between teenager and woman. Hence follows a perfect example:

A few weeks passed since I gave birth to Emily. I was exercising and dieting and now fit into almost all of my pre-pregnancy clothes. I wanted to reward myself with a day of shopping and check out some of the nicer baby stores in Houston.

I packed her diaper bag with the usual; bottles, burp cloths, diapers, wipes, toys and even an extra outfit. Too bad I forgot my "How To Manuel" on parenting!

By mid morning we were off to one of my favorite stores. All was going exceptionally well. I was having a relaxing day and Emily was comfortably sleeping in her stroller. Many women stopped to admire Emily and showered her with compliments. Later that afternoon, it was time for Emily to eat and I was getting hungry as well. As another treat, I decided to go upstairs to the department stores restaurant. Emily still slept as I finished off my lunch. I prepared her bottle and picked her up. I stared to feed her and paid for my meal. Several minutes had passed before I noticed someone looking my way and waving. Focusing in, I could see that it was a young man whom I knew in high school.

"I heard that you got married" he said as he leaned down to look at Emily, "but I did not know you had a baby."

I removed the bottle from Emily's mouth so he could get a better look at her. I continued my conversation with him adding in the petty details of my life. My brain was transgressing back to the giddy teenager as I completely forgot Emily's needs. She made a slight grunting noise that I completely ignored. As the conversation came back to Emily, I cradled her in my arms so he again could take another look at her. (my ego completely taking over!)

I was so engrossed in the conversation, I forgot to burp Emily and at the very second he leaned down to look again, she threw up like a volcano! Medically it is called Projectile Vomiting and there just could not be a better explanation for it than that. Vomit was everywhere...on me, the table, all over her clothes and the blanket. I don't even want to try and remember if it hit him...

My body and mind froze. The war broke out between the teenager and the woman in me and the humiliated teenager won. I grabbed Emily, literally pulling the blanket down over her face ...(as if to pronounce her dead), and I ran for the bathroom, leaving my classmate at the table. I prayed that he would be gone by the time I got back.

My poor baby girl was finally cleaned up a few moments later...and even more sad than that was how long it took me to realize that my immature actions could have caused Emily to choke!

Chapter 6

My husband came from a large family..so large I used to call them a tribe! My side of the family could be summed up by who came to Thanksgiving dinner. Both of my parents were only children...so when it came to names, many "suggestions" were given. Everyone seemed to have a name that they wanted us to use and a reason for using it. At first, I was delighted that so many family members wanted us to honor the legacy of someone else, but after a while, it was just plain irritating. Well to be perfectly honest, almost everything irritated me the further along I got in this pregnancy!

One day I thought about it. I wrote down all the girl names people had suggested and the ones we liked. I did not bother to look at boy names. Deep in my heart I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my baby was a girl (despite what the stupid Sonogram Tech said!) I must have picked up that list a thousand times and then once more...before I wadded it up and threw it in the trash can!

From that moment on, when someone approached me about names, I just smiled sweetly and said we were still working on our decision. Then I would try my best to end the conversation and leave the room. Days before the delivery, I knew I made one very important decision though, that I was NOT going to name my daughter after anyone in EITHER family!

A few favorite names rolled around in my head but the moment I saw my daughter, I whispered the name that was in my heart, Emily Faith. Emily was also the name of someone I knew, not related, who fought a courageous battle with cancer and lost at the innocent age of 21. I kept her name a secret until the papers were signed and it was official.

My Mother and Father were out of town when I gave birth to my Emily. The first time they met was just a few days after we were released from the hospital. We made a special trip to their house. Emily was a very beautiful baby. As I proudly placed Emily into my Fathers arms, he asked what we decided to name her.
"Emily, Emily Faith" I said.

He froze. His face hardened a bit and his eyes slowly lifted up. As quickly as I noticed this change, he shuttered a bit and again softened, again returning his eyes to Emily. I heard my Mother make a sound, but it was not disturbing enough to make me turn towards her. I had no idea what all of this meant, but I knew enough to know that I would have to pin down my Mother to get the facts.

We spent the whole afternoon over there and when the time was right I left Emily sleeping under the watchful eyes of my Dad.
"Mom" I screamed as loud as you could at a whisper.
"Mom - where are you?"
I found her in the kitchen.
"Spill the beans Mom. What is going on? Why did Dad react that way when I told him what Emily's name was?"
If she could have, Mom would have retreated to a hiding place to get out of answering me, but instead I was met with a loud, "SHHHHHHH!!"
"You don't know?" she asked.
"Know what?" I stepped closer to her.
"Your Father had an Aunt Emily. They used to call her Em. Anyway, during the depression your Grandmother had a job and her sister, Emily used to watch your Father. Well, it seems that she was not," Mom hesitated, "not the nicest person in the world".
She tried to end the conversation there, but I kept pressing her until she finally shushed me again.
"Okay", she said, making a face at me that said I won and she was not happy about it.
"Em used to lock your Father out of the house the minute your Grandmother left."

"Oh great Mom!" How come you never told me about this?
Shrugging her shoulders, she walked back into the family room. Dad looked up at us. With a gentle smile, he said, "Would you mind not ever calling her Em?
Pursing my lips together as hard as I could so that I would not laugh, I replied, "Sure Dad."

Chapter 5

The night before my due date, I was invited to go bowling. I was feeling exceptionally well considering the circumstances and accepted the offer. A funny phenomenon happens to pregnant bowlers. The bigger they get, the better they bowl! It must have something to do with balance and weight. I bowled my usual pregnant average 170-190 per game. After 3 games I went home and fell asleep. Sometime between two and three AM I awoke with an awful stomach ache. I retreated to the bathroom wishing I had not eaten as much as I did that night. A few minutes later all was well and I returned to bed. Just as I was falling back to sleep, again my stomach began to ache and back to the bathroom I went. Mysteriously, this happened four more times before it dawned on me that I might not just have a stomach ache ...that consistently returned every 20 minutes!

I waited another two hours to verify my suspicion before calling the doctor. He advised me to come into the hospital. I was ecstatic! I had visions of my former physical self dancing through my head. I even packed a pre-pregnancy outfit for my return home.

At the hospital it was confirmed that I was in labor, but I was progressing so slowly they sent me home. I felt like a failure. I was instructed not to eat, but get as much rest as possible. That was a joke. I was dealing with the same contractions that awoke me from a sound sleep the night before. How was I suppose to get some rest now? I went to my parents home, which was much closer to the hospital and watched television for several hours.

I waited as long as I could and by 5 PM I was going a bit crazy. Contractions now five minutes apart and painful to say the least. On the drive back to the hospital I noticed that there was a full moon and wondered if there was any truth to the myth that a full moon engages labor. Entering the maternity ward confirmed my suspicion. There were pregnant woman everywhere! A few were even laboring in the waiting room....WAITING for a room! Because I wanted natural childbirth, a rarity in those days, I was given a Birthing Room. The Birthing Room more closely resembled a beautifully decorated bedroom with the special amenities required for the task. In those days, you were not allowed to use this room if you decided to get a block or much of any kind of pain meds.

An IV was inserted since it had been 24 hours since I had eaten. The nurses checked me and after what seemed to be endless hours of labor at my parents house, I still had only progressed to 3.5 cm. That was such depressing news for me, but I made a commitment to myself and to my child and I was not willing to give up. My husband left me alone so he could finish the paperwork. He was also my Lamaze coach. I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could and kept working on my breathing exercises - alone... I was very alone. I started to panic. The pain was more intense than ever. I watched the monitor rise higher and higher with each contraction and I began to cry. I could no longer concentrate well enough to breathe my way through this and I was scared! Almost an hour passed before my husband walked through the door of my room. I was curled up in a ball, completely tense and sobbing. It took 30 minutes before I was able to quiet myself enough to get back on track.

Hours passed and I made dreadfully slow progress in my dilation. My field of vision had reduced dramatically. I could not focus on anything that was further than 2 feet away from me and peoples voices were distorted. It reminded me of the cartoon character in the Charlie Brown series who was the teacher.

In walked a doctor I had never seen. I already knew that my obstetrician was not going to be there and at this point, I could have cared less. This new doctor had a kind face and spoke slow and soft. He understood what I was going through and asked if I wanted him to break my water. The minute I found out that doing this would speed up the labor, I was all for it.

One hour later, I was really making progress and had dilated up to 7. I could no longer talk. I was able to take direction and I still worked diligently on my breathing, making small goals to get through each contraction. It was working and I knew deep inside I was going to make it.

Two hours later, I experienced a contraction different from any other. My eyes widened. The fog around me began to clear and I could not hold back the urge to push. I was able to talk again and focus on things further away. The nurse checked me and then ran to get the doctor as the assistant started to break apart my bed. I knew this was the last lap of this race and I was ready.

Twelve contractions later and I could see the babies head. I knew in my heart that it was a girl, despite what the radiologist told me after viewing the sonogram. I curled my body into each push and gave it my all. The nurse grabbed a huge mirror and placed it down between my legs.
"See the baby?" she asked with an irritating amount of glee in her voice.
I was right in the middle of the biggest contraction I had dealt with all night and resorted to giving her a physical answer instead of a verbal one. I took my foot out of the stirrup and kicked the mirror. What it reflected was a sight uglier than I had ever seen ... you will have to use your imagination with this one!

A few more contractions and baby Emily was born. I was exhausted. My legs were shaking and I just fell back onto the bed. they laid her on my stomach and she began to whimper. I placed my hand over her back and whispered,
"I knew you were a girl!"
When the doctor and nurses were done with me, they took Emily off of my stomach to get her cleaned up. I looked up at her before my eyes feel upon my own stomach. It was as flat as it was before I was pregnant. I reveled at the sight of it!!

Because I gave birth without medication, I was allowed to get up immediately to shower. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. To my horror, as I stood up, my flat stomach protruded forward like a huge bowl of jello!
"Oh My God!!!" I exclaimed.

The nurse caught sight of my expression and tried to reassure me that in time I would be thin again. I took a shower and curled up in bed to get some well deserved rest. All night I felt my uterus contract so that by morning I began to believe her explanation. Once my IV was removed, I was allowed to leave my room. A doctor's scale was standing just outside my door, so I jumped on it - ready to chart my future. I could not believe what I saw. How could I weight 1 pound more after giving birth to a 6 pound baby??? I was so depressed! Many months later, back into shape and my old clothes, I found out that my digestive system had stopped when I was in labor so all of the IV fluids that were given to me, were still in my system.

Chapter 4

Obstetricians know how to provoke pregnant women. So much so that I wonder if it is not a part of their higher education.

"So Julie.....What have we been eating THIS week?" he would ask me at my weekly weigh in.

In my thirty eighth week of pregnancy, no one missed my tiny waistline more than I. Little did he know all the trouble that I went to just to make sure my weight was as low as it could be... I only wore shoes that I could easily slip off before I stepped onto the scale. I chose between two very lightweight sundresses. I even minimized my eating, at least until my appointment was over. Afterwards, I needed a large dose of chocolate just to recover from the depression he had caused! I wanted to crush that hateful little man between two rocks. If only God wasn't watching!

Chapter 3

All through the pregnancy I tried to exercise. I stayed in my aerobic dance class until my fourth month, I was in a bowling league and I would walk around the block daily until the weather became fiercely hot. Sometime in May, I opted to exchange the outside walking for inside floor exercises. This was a terrible mistake! In less than one week I had strained my back to such a degree, I could no longer sleep at night. Two days and nights passed before I made an appointment with my Obstetrician. I relayed my tale of woe to him and showed him the exact point of pain in my lower back. Instead of listening to me he suspected that I had either a severe bladder or kidney infection at which time I was tested for both. Both came back negative. As he was advising this information to me I got the very distinct feeling that he thought I was lying about the pain. Tears welled up in my eyes as I told him once again that it had to be my back and how I had not slept in days. I even pointed to the dark circles beneath my eyes as evidence. With seemingly reluctance, he prescribed two medications, told me to take hot showers and sleep with a heating pad. I immediately had the prescriptions filled and returned home. Three hours later, I was sound asleep. After my third prescribed dose, something strange began to happen. I experienced a complete loss of appetite, a dizziness that I would liken to Vertigo and I had the shakes. A few hours later I began to vomit. Assuming I had contracted a virus, I continued to take my medicine. The severity of my nausea and vomiting worsened until I could not longer keep anything down, including water or my medicine!

I hated my doctor because of the way he had treated me and I did not want to call him. That evening my husband came home, and I could tell by his reaction to me that my appearance must have been grotesque. By morning, I gave in and called my doctor only to find out that he was out of town for 3 days. Trying to explain my circumstances to the nurse fell on deaf ears as she only repeated the day the doctor would be back in town. I hung up the phone and started to cry. That evening I realized that I had not felt the baby move in several hours and I began to worry. I tried to eat small bites of crackers. I could not keep them down. I tired to drink water. I could not keep that down. Every time I lifted my head from my pillow I was experiencing dry heaves and one glance in the mirror told me it was time to get some help....ANY help! The image scared me. My complexion was gray-green. My skin was dry and my cheeks looked drawn. I touched my rough cracked lips and even noticed how brittle my hair looked. I thought I was going to faint.

I am going to just check myself into the hospital. Surely when they see me, they will know I need help. I was actually trying to convince myself that I was not as crazy as all of these "professionals" seemed to make me feel. Instructing my husband to get the car ready, I actually told him to only drive in the right lane. That way, in the event that I became ill again, he could easily pull off of the road. Without incident I got into the car and lay silently with the seat totally reclined. He got into the car, started it and began to proceed down the driveway. After going about eight feet I screamed,
"STOP!!"
I flung the door open, rolled out onto my neighbors yard and threw up again. I wondered where it was coming from since I had neither eaten or drank anything in over two days. Mercifully, nothing else major happened along the way.

As I entered the hospital, I noticed several people staring at me. I was very self conscience and tried not to make eye contact. A team of nurses asked me a hundred questions as they hooked me up to monitors. Their attention confirmed my belief that my physician and his head nurse were neglectful and disrespectful to my needs!
"Is the baby okay?" I asked over and over again.

Once the monitors were in place and I could see the heartbeat, I was more at ease. Within one hour I was alone in my own room waiting for an I.V. The door opened and in came a nurse with a glass of water and a large pill for me to take. I questioned my ability to keep the pill down considering the circumstances, but upon her insistence, I obeyed. In less than 5 minutes I threw up the water, the pill in it's complete form and a bright green substance that made me panic! Beating on the call button, I cried to the nurse,
"Please help me!"

I was angry now. They were the direct cause of this incident. Moments later a completely new nurse walked through my door and approached me. She actually shuttered when she saw me and gasped as she questioned,
"Oh My God, are you always that white?" Her extreme Southern draw made the question that much more insulting and it was at that very second I lost my composure, my manners and my concern for anyone elses feelings! Mimicking her accent I starred at her with deep hatred,
"Oh MY GAWWWWDDDDDDD - Are you Alwaaaayss That Ugly?"

She turned no her heels and left my room. I never saw her again and I always felt bad that she was the recipient of my anger...but ironically to this day, I still feel that given the circumstances, most women would have exploded much earlier than I did!

I was in the hospital for 5 long days before I was weaned off of the I.V. and able to eat solid foods. As for exercising..I gave that up until after the baby was born!

Chapter 2

Although I never actually had what is termed as "Morning Sickness" being pregnant did not agree with me. I had an unusual assortment of symptoms. The variety included flu-like aches, occasional nausea and a never ending desire to sleep. Six weeks into the first trimester a new symptom reared its ugly head...fainting! I was always on guard for this new humiliation. When you know that you are about to faint, you have two choices; either you can lay down or fall down...no matter where you are! I was seen laying down at the grocery store, department stores and a movie theatre lobby. I even had to pull my car over on the freeway once and wait for a spell to pass.

On one occasion though, I was trapped. A time when I desperately wanted to maintain my composure. It was Christmas Eve and we were in church. It was a special service for individuals and families to come together and pray with the pastor. We walked into the beautifully decorated sanctuary, sat down and waited our turn. After only a few minutes, it was our turn to approach the altar and kneel down. We greeted the pastor with a hug and exchanged some small talk. Kneeling down the pastor placed his hand on my protruding abdomen and began to pray, and pray and pray.. It was not long before I was shifting my weight from one knee to the other. He prayed for our home, our marriage, the birth of the baby and much much more. After what seemed to be an eternity but was probably only about 10 minutes, my eyes popped open.

"Oh God - NOT NOW!" I thought.

One of my spells was on it's way. I slammed my eyes shut and prayed harder than I ever had before.

"Please God, make him hurry! Please God, make him hurry!! Please God, MAKE HIM HURRY!!!!

I heard the word Amen just before I blacked out. Most of the people in the church probably thought that I was slain in the spirit. Little did they know I was actually slain by the baby!

Making Mommy Mean - Chapter 1

There I was, laying on that cold hard table in that cold sterile room. Flat on my back, feet up in stirrups and naked from the waist down; except of coarse, for what they called a cover sheet. A cover sheet that didn't cover much! My feet contracted and my toes curled down when they touched the stirrups. I looked up at the blank white ceiling...barely nineteen years old, already married for one year and I was six months pregnant. I was changing and I mean more than a physical change. I once was a quiet sweet, reserved and modest young woman...then something just snapped! I lifted my head from pillow and slapped the white sheet down between my legs. I met eye to eye with a very startled doctor who was rolling away from me on his sterile little stool.

"WWWhhhaaaaaat?" was all he managed to say.
" I just realized that I am paying you to do this!" I said as I glared at him.
Five minutes later he managed to shut his mouth and finish the exam. Not one more word was said during that entire visit. A transformation had taken place, but I was no butterfly!!

Coming Soon...I Promise!

...Before I Begin...

Although enthusiastic, I was not the best Mother in the world - that is for sure! I will say though that with my own set of special circumstances, I gave it my all and if nothing else, I sure do love my girls!

I thought long and hard where to actually start these stories. Maybe I would tell the story of how I got the infamous name of "Mean Mommy"...or should I try to create a paragraph of background information verses allowing anyone reading this to just pick op the details as the chapters unfold..but I finally just made the decision to start where most stories start....at the beginning...