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I'd rather have held him in my arms, played with him, smiled at him, and known him as a child and man, than to have missed
all that completely and never have seen or known him at all. Such a pretty little boy. Not feminine, just pretty features
when each taken on their own. Amazing brilliant white blond hair as a child, swishy and silky, even without conditioners.
Everyone loved it and commented on it. He hated it when he grew up because it wouldn't stay in place, so he kept it short,
and it did deepen down a lot in color, until he would get out in the sun some and then the ends would start towards that silvery
white blonde again. I loved it. Bright blue eyes, good clear skin. Such a pretty baby and toddler.
Didn't look anything like me or Gene.
Gene's Mom said he was a throw back and the spitting image of the son she lost to meningitis when he was 5, her first
son, the one she was young and free of fear enough to love all she wanted, without a thought or fear of loosing him... like
she was with the next 5 children. So she doted on David and often called him by that child's name jokingly with love, "Buddy"...
when she was holding him or playing with him, knowing what she was doing and loving it. She felt like God had sent back her
little Buddy one more time for her... and she just joyed in it. By that time, even her youngest was grown and with children
and David was the only boy out of 8 grandchildren.
Because he was preemie, he had spent a month in the hospital before he came home at 5lbs 2 oz. I called on him every day
sometimes twice a day that month and thought about him nonstop. Every action all day was geared at "nesting" for
his homecoming. The house and his areas were immaculate. I changed, arranged and re-arranged every item in his areas countless
times.
I visited him as often as Gene would take me, which wasn't daily as the hospital was a 45 minute drive from our house...
but I talked him into at least two or three times a week when he had work in that direction. He would drop me off at the hospital
and I would spend the day and he'd pick me up on his way home.
David was a nursery favorite and all that white hair was just adored. The nurses seemed to treat him special and great.
He was always quiet and content. They said he was a good baby and had even seemed like he tried to smile a couple of times
at them. They would give me a rocker and I would sit there and hold him while he slept and ate, talk to him, hoping he would
try to smile at me. I would do all his care for him those days, except for when they took him for the medical evaluations,
treatments or anything that caused him pain like blood tests. They didn't want him thinking it was me causing any of it, and
I was grateful for that. The nurses taught me all they did, what to look for, and how to treat him as they did.
So at a month and three days I took that tiny 5lb2oz boy home finally!!!
I was soooooo happy.
From day one, he cried non stop, with maybe 30 minutes being his longest sleep time between fussing and desperate screams,
for the whole first two weeks I had him home. I tried everything I knew and that the nurses had taught me, even called back
down to them several times, and did everything the doctor I kept visiting and calling said to. I was terrified I was going
to loose him (as they had warned me in the hospital I still could). I was totally exhausted, completely disappointed and real
bad ashamed in myself and depressed that my baby was so miserable at home and I couldn't fix it or make him happy enough to
quit crying and eat or sleep well... and completely desperate. I finally gave up, called Mom at like 7 one morning and admitted
I was no good at all at this, afraid he would go back in the hospital or die because of me, that he was loosing weight, instead
of gaining as he had there, and that my baby hated me and was miserable. Not happy as he had been in the hospital, and that
Gene was exhausted for work too because I couldn't do David right, so was yelling and screaming mad at me and the baby. I
was weeping so hard she had to repeatedly get angry sounding at me to calm me down and be able to barely understand me. She
made Gene come home from work, come get and bring me, David and a list of his things to her house. (I later found out she
had warned him he better be sweet and nice and not show any anger or irritation, as he was on the phone with her, or she would
beat him no matter how old he was) She got us there, we talked as she held him, rocked him, walked with him, and tried to
calm him, I told her all I had done and how. She asked a lot of questions (she was a midwife and home baby nurse for the whole
family and tons of people) unclothed him and looked him all over, pressing and rubbing here and there all over him. He was
so tiny. Everyone (by this time two of Gene's cousins and his sister had come in) was just was amazed at how small he still
was, amazed that he lived at all born at 3lbs 6oz, so they just ooohed and awwwed at all his tiny toes and fingers and body
as she examined him all over. Then she ran them out, as he was not suppose to be out in public germs for another three months.
He was my third pregnancy so I was just very grateful he lived and they were so supportive of that, even though still amazed
at him because they had never seen a baby that small, let alone one that small at 6 weeks old. They tried so hard to assure
me he would live and not go back to hospital even though he had dropped under the weight line they made sure he was above
before they released him. Then Mom gave Gene a list of things to go get for her from the store, and made me go in the living
room, at the other end of the house and shut all the doors in between. She said lay down, rest go to sleep, pretend he is
in the hospital again and others are there to take care of him like he is use to. I refused. I didn't want to be away from
David. So she very firmly told me that I was upsetting him because I was upset, so just go away, I didn't have to sleep just
go and stay away until she came got me... it may be hours. In defeat and crying hard again over being what was upsetting my
own baby... I sheepishly obeyed. I sat down on the sofa and just looked out the windows. I think the TV was on, but I don't
remember... and that's all I remember.
I woke up with a sleeping peaceful baby in the crook of my arm and was afraid to move or make a noise at all no matter
how bad I had to pee! I just lay there looking at him, the sunshine pouring in all over him, lighting up that white hair and
beautiful skin. It was about 30 minutes Mom said, before she peeked around the corner and saw me awake. She was all grins.
She asked me if I needed to go to the bathroom and I whispered "yes, but I don't want to move or he'll wake"...
she just scoffed and told me to hang on, and went and brought back a big fluffy blanket all fluffed up in a small pile. Then
she told me to kiss his forehead and easy, slow transfer him into that blanket in the chair she had brought up beside me while
we slept. It worked. She told me to leave him alone to sleep after the bathroom and come to the kitchen instead. When I got
into the kitchen there were the cousins and sister again.... and that's when I learned it was 9:30 the NEXT morning! I had
slept all day and night! Mom gave me coffee, fed me and then started the next three days of real training in "babies
101" under Ruth Engles. It was good times together and that started a bond between Mom and I that lasted all our lives,
till the day she died at age 99. David and I, and on through Beci, another preemie at 2lbs8oz, had no problems after that.
It was just all fun from there on out.
Mom stopped calling David "Buddy" when he was about 3 and a half years old.
He came down with a case of meningitis just like her Buddy had died from.
It was weird though...
because every doctor and specialist that examined him all said it was for sure the killer spinal meningitis from all the
symptoms... said it right away and for sure... but the spinal tap came back as viral, which they had good success in healing.
So they kept testing, thinking the tests were inaccurate. They actually did two spinal taps and was going to do a third until
Gene stopped them. THANK GOD!! Poor David was SCREAMING in pain from them! Like he was being tortured or ripped apart...
and I later found out it really feels like that.
Anyway....
the whole family was on alert and there were probably two dozen at the hospital with us soon after we got there (it was
a huge family) all praying, calling all they knew to pray. At one point one of the cousins called me over to the phone booth
and told me Mom wanted to speak to me... I tried to apologize for not calling her but she shut me up right away telling me
she had not expected me to, my place had been with my baby. But she wanted me to know... and the woman who never cried and
thought tears were weak, then broke down bawling.... that she was praying and had made a deal with God that if he would just
let David live, she would never again call him Buddy and wouldn't be mad at Him for her Buddy dying anymore... and would change
hers ways and be a good Christian for Him from then on. And she kept her bargain with God.
She was a great mother to me.
I forever regarded her as my true "Mother"
and until the time she died, I continued to receive cards from her that were for a precious, special or wonderful "Daughter"
We were very glad David was born and lived.
He brought much joy to our lives.
We would not have wanted to miss a moment of his life.
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