Happy 24th Birthday Brittany!

January 14th...

Twenty-four years ago today I was in Shallowford Hospital, which doesn’t even exist anymore.

This story actually begins a couple of days before on Saturday the 12th when I was sitting at my then mother-in-law’s kitchen table and being unable to find a comfortable position for my back. I was six months pregnant and just felt bad in general.

As the day progressed so did my overall feeling of discomfort. By evening I couldn’t do anything more energetic than sprawl on the sofa. I began to feel a bit feverish and when I went to the bathroom I realized I was spotting. I called the doctor’s office and told them my symptoms. They in turn called me in a prescription for antibiotics, as they seemed to think I had a bladder infection. I started taking the medication and went to bed, although not to sleep. It was Saturday night.

The next morning, being Sunday, meant church. But not for me. I talked to my mother, and she said she’d come to the house and stay with me while Everett went to Sunday school and church. She was going to go by the store and pick up a few things on the way, so would probably not be there by the time he left.

I lay there, watching the clock and noticed the cramps I had been having were coming in cycles, about five minutes apart. Okay, time to call the doctor again. Their advice was…leave now, we’ll meet you at the hospital. I called my sister Jeanette, she said she’d go to the church and tell Everett, then come to the house and wait on our mother to arrive.

Everett got there first, and in the car with him was Chuck Slaton, who decided to go along for the ride. So, we all three head for the hospital. At the time we lived in Forsyth County, so we headed south on Hwy. 400 toward Dunwoody and Shallowford Hospital. On the way we were stopped by the Georgia State Patrol for speeding. He came and asked if I needed an ambulance. I’m sure he thought we were a motley looking crew, them with their Sunday suits on and me with my gray sweat pants and oversized sweat shirt. I told him no, just let us go to the hospital. (When we arrived we found out that he called to make sure we were really headed there.) He actually told us to slow down.

When we arrived at the hospital, the real fun began. I was hooked up to IV’s and given medicine that was supposed to stop the contractions. They were also giving me antibiotics for the bladder infection and steroids for the baby in case the contractions didn’t stop. I wasn’t allowed to even stand up, they gave me a sponge bath, and I had to use a bedpan. This went on overnight. I wasn’t allowed to eat, and every time they gave me a steroid injection I threw up. My heart rate was very fast due to the medication, so fast that I couldn’t control my shaking, but the contractions stopped. The doctor came in and told me that I would be confined to bed until the baby was born. I would be taken off the IV’s and switch over to medication by mouth to keep the contractions from returning. He left after telling me that I would be moved to a room later in the day for a few days before being allowed to go home if everything seemed to be going okay.

I was lying there, feeling sick and sorry for myself, when I felt a gush of warmth. I called the nurse. She called the doctor back in. It appears that my water broke. There was nothing else he could do but take the baby. So in we went. They had me totally prepared for surgery before they gave me anything to make me sleep. They said as soon as you’re under, he’ll start cutting. They had to get the baby out quickly in order that none of the anesthetic reached the baby. The baby was taken from me exactly twelve minutes after they rolled me out of the room. It was Monday, January 14, 1985.

I woke up in the recovery room, they were pressing on my stomach and blood was pouring from me. The pain was intense, but they refused to give me anything. I found out later it was because I was bleeding so badly and I didn’t have a blood pressure to speak of. They put me back under general anesthesia and packed me in order to stop the bleeding. However, it didn’t work. The doctor went out to get permission to do a hysterectomy. In the meantime, the anesthesiologist was monitoring my condition and realized that my blood pressure was improving slowly. They waited and the bleeding stopped, but not before I had to have eleven units of blood.

The next time I woke up I was being turned over, and everything seemed to be underwater. I was in intensive care until Thursday. They moved me then to a regular room, and that’s when I found out the baby was alive. It was a girl, Brittany Nichole, who weighed a whole two pounds, two ounces at birth. I was one week away from being six months pregnant when they took her. I really didn’t expect her to survive. The doctor had given me little hope. I found out that she had bleeding on the brain, and was expected to die, or if she lived they said she’d be a vegetable. I went to see her and she was covered in tape, had tubes and needles everywhere, and was so very tiny.

Her doctor came in to see us. She said that Brittany was still very alert, still moving, which was unusual in her condition. She called the neurologist back in. He said that something rare had happened. The hemorrhage on the brain appeared to have reabsorbed into the brain. It was gone. She started doing better.

I got to go home on Sunday, January 20th, exactly one week from the time I was admitted. Brittany had to stay, but we were encouraged to visit as much as possible. She started having episodes of apnea. It seems that when a baby is born there is a valve that closes between the heart and lungs, but in premature infants that valve sometimes needs help closing. Normally medicine is all that’s necessary; however, it hadn’t worked with her. The valve wouldn’t remain closed. She would continually stop breathing and have to be shaken or stimulated in order to start back. When she was four weeks old the doctor decided that surgery would have to be performed in order to close the valve. She now weighed one pound, ten ounces and was very sick.

They transferred her to Scottish Rite Children’s Hospital. She had the surgery and within days was breathing on her own without oxygen. She went back to Shallowford Hospital, and in March we took her home, a month before her due date. She now weighed a little over four pounds.

Her next stay in the hospital began on March 3, 2007 when she gave birth to our little Emily Claire, who was born after an uneventful pregnancy and a natural delivery. As much a miracle as her mother? Of course :)

I love you Brittany!

More News of Suches...

Hastle Parker died in June. Brittany, Emily and I visited with Florine and Hastle shortly before his death. His daughter Irene was there, his son Jerry came down for a while, and for a short time Marty and Leslie (daughter-in-law and granddaughter). It was so good to see them again. Florine was the same as she has always been, full of life and ready to catch us up on all the goings on in Suches (maybe like Rachel and Avonlea, Brittany?). Hastle, however, had little to say, but sat quietly enjoying being outside on the porch and watching Emily with a smile. You could tell he wasn’t long for this world.

I always enjoyed visiting with the Parkers, having Florine’s fried chicken, chicken and dumplings (made like no one else can make them), her strawberry pudding and her very sweet iced tea. Sometimes we’d sit in the living room after Sunday lunch and talk, but many times we’d sit on the front porch which looked out over the valley. Their house backed up against the mountain with a little stream running through the yard. Across the road (which isn’t much wider than a driveway) is the pasture and barn, the cows, down the hill to the fields, the river at the bottom and the mountains in the background. It was always a little like going back in time to visit there on Sundays.

It makes me sad to think of the ones who have gone on since our days up there, Corena Harkins, Jimmy and Minnie Watkins, Ella Watkins, and Hastle Parker. They were all good people, salt of the earth as it were, and they are all missed.

Minnie

In January Minnie died. It's a little off the rest of the blog, but I'd like to list the things I remember and think of when I think of Minnie...

The first time I remember meeting Minnie was one Sunday when we visited Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church (The Hill Church) in Suches, Ga. Carlton Coker was the pastor of the church at the time. Minnie introduced herself to me, and the first thing I noticed was her strong, firm handshake. I spoke with her several times over the next few years whenever we would visit the church.

Eventually Everett became pastor of the church in Suches, and I got to know Minnie much better on a more personal level. She was faithful to God, her church, her family and her friends. I'd like to just mention the things I think of when I think of her....

Her strong handshake and warm hugs.
The spread she usually had on the table for Sunday dinner (for the three of us, Jimmy and herself) - she'd have the table loaded...an example of typical Sunday dinner with Minnie would be...fried chicken, canned deer (that she did herself), greens, turnips, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese (homemade), yams (peeled and done herself), biscuits and cornbread, corn, green beans, peas, homemade pickles, deviled eggs, congealed salad and strawberry shortcake. And most of the vegetables were grown in her own garden.
Her beautiful quilts, done during the winter usually when she wasn't called upon to work in the fields.
She was an artist, she loved doing her quilts, painting, her music, singing and playing the guitar.

She was like a mother to me when my own mother had gone down into the debilitating darkness of alzheimer's.

I think of her on Easter. We spent several Easter Sunday's with her family. I guess that's what had me thinking of her now, we just passed Easter, and I couldn't help but remember that her family wouldn't be spending Easter with her this year, and knowing how much they were probably missing her.

I feel privileged to have known her, and I hope she knew I felt that way.

My beginning...

According to my momma and the pictures I've seen I was a bald baby (just like my daughter and granddaughter ;)).

Jeanette says she used to walk me up and down the street because I had cholic and cried a lot. My daddy was at Central State when I was born and momma said that she thought it was traveling in the car with the windows open with me swallowing all that air that was to blame. Personally I think it may have been the stress she was under that was passed on to me.

Joyce was pregnant at the time and married. Jeanette was a teenager on the verge of getting married. Gene was 10 years old and not fond of the idea of a baby sister. According to all tales he fed me dog food...maybe that's why I have more of a fondness for dogs than cats. ;)

Momma said as I grew I stayed outside a lot. I now had blonde curly hair, brown eyes and was very brown. My daddy once accused her of messing around because I had blonde hair and his other kids had black hair. She informed him that he might ought to rethink that because I was the only one of the four of us who did look like him. Hehe. He had light hair and blue eyes. Momma was the dark-haired one.

I know I got lost a couple of times when they lived in Cleveland, Georgia. Momma said there was a pond in one direction and a mountain in the other. Both times she was terrified I had gone to the pond, but both times I headed in the other direction. Again, it was probably the dog food....I was following the dogs off. Guess I thought they were cousins or something. Hehe.

Well, Brittany & Jeanette, I hope you're happy. I'll be back later. :)

Me...

I was born on May 24, 1961 (my daddy's birthday). I've always been told that I was his birthday present. My parents were older now, daddy was 41 and momma was 37. Joyce was pregnant, Jeanette was months away from getting married and Gene was 10 years old.

I married Everett Thompson on November 3, 1979 at 18 years old. We had one daughter, Brittany Nichole (22). Brittany married Johnathan McGowan last year - September 2, 2006. She inherited a son at that time, David (3), and they now have a daughter Emily (almost 4 months).

Okay...those are the facts about everyone. Now I can get on with the more interesting items ;).

Gene...

Leonard Eugene was born on January 2, 1951. He was a very large baby, and it was a very difficult birth. They didn't believe he'd live through the night, but he did. Gene had very black hair and brown eyes (kind of a recurring theme, huh?).

Gene did not marry or have children. He died in an automobile accident in August, 1973. He was 22 years old.

Jeanette...

Mary Jeanette was born on November 16, 1945. She had dark hair and brown eyes. In September, 1961 when she was 15 years old she married Jerry Love.

On August 16, 1962 she had Terri Lynn. Terri married Billy Wallace and they have two children, Chelsea (18) and Ben (13).

On April 4, 1967 she had Rhonda Dawn. Rhonda married Neil McWhorter and they have two boys, Jesse (almost 16) and Seth (almost 15).

Jeanette and Jerry divorced in the mid-80's and a couple of years later she married Phillip Allen (no relation to Dennis).

Jeanette and Phillip live in Forsyth County.