Yes, he still has 10 toes - big and hairy now, but still 10 toes!

What in the world are you talking about, Kathleen, one might ask. Well, this is a Matt and Stephen story…

I don’t think there are many “visitors” to this blog that don’t already know my family-know my sweet husband, my 4 great boys - but for those who are not long time friends, I felt I needed to write a Matt or Stephen story to “introduce” more of my family. Of course, I also don’t need any more “sibling rivalry” in my household, so I am attempting the more “well-rounded” approach.

And while this story seems slightly far-fetched, it is quite true – only at the Newton Nut House…

Matthew was only 14 months old when I found out I was pregnant with baby #4. Matt was such a great baby. Beautiful. Such a cute little boy with white-blond hair. Sweet face and the sweet disposition. Gorgeous smile that one saw ALL of the time! “Sheer bliss and happiness.” He was such a great baby, and only 22 months old when Stephen was born.

Matt had been sick over the weekend and first thing Monday morning, I called the doctor for an appointment. I was very pregnant, and had been having LOTS of labor pains for several days, so the pediatrician got me into the office as quickly as possible. My mama gave over to watch Adam and Andrew, and my friend Cinda Aery came to drive me and Matt to the dr’s office. It was there that things really got exciting…

While standing at the dr’s office signing Matt it, be quickly became completely evident that before too long the Newton’s number 4 baby would be here.

Having 3 previous labor and deliveries that went quickly, we all knew that this delivery would be maybe too quick. My doctor, knowing that I hated hospitals and detested a great deal of medical intervention with my babies, made me promise to get to the hospital as soon as possible – he didn’t want me to have the baby in the car. So, as soon as Paul made it home, we were off.

Of course, things never go as they seem and even before birth Stephen it should have been evident that Stephen was going to do things his way. If only we would have seen more of the signs – hm-m-m. Hindsight is always 20/20. Just kidding, Stephen. But, in reality things were and still are definitely different with him. I basically had 3 very easy births with the other boys, but some HOW, some WAY, Stephen got just enough sidewise during labor that he wasn’t able to come down the birth canal. The dr, just laughed – really – said that is was impossible. For once the baby was engaged in the birth canal it couldn’t just move out of it and move around, but alas, this baby #4 did! We tried EVERYTHING known at the time to get the baby to move back into position, turn, do something, but it wouldn’t budge. We knew that it was a large baby, and that was why it was having trouble moving - there wasn’t room. Things went from ”this is different”, to we have a “crisis on our hands” and I was rushed off to the OR for an emergency caesarean section.

My OB and our pediatrician were both fabulous doctors, and while very conservative in their medical approach, were very progressive in thought. Everyone agreed that barring any problems, I would immediately have the baby, we would return to the room, and after the first 24 hours, I could go home to my family – back to my “sheer bliss and happiness.” I was concerned with Matthew because at 22 months, he had never been separated from me. Well, not only did the quick labor turn into a fiasco, I have several other major problems and my 24-hour stay was now on day 3. While we had been very pro-active in getting the boys ready for the “new arrival, and while Mama and Paul had brought the boys up to the hospital to see me and the “new baby,” Matthew would have NOTHING to do with me. He wouldn’t talk to me, or look at me or let me hug him. I was devastated. I could just look into his face and read, “You left me, and not only have you not come home, I come to see you, and here you are piled up in the bed, I can’t lay on you and snuggle, and NOW there’s this little THING with you”. Very upsetting for everyone, to say the least. I begged my OB to let me go home to my family, and he agreed. Finally, we were on our way to “sheer bliss and happiness”…

I definitely was “bright enough” to not walk into the house holding the baby. I went in loving on the boys. Matt very shyly seemed to be coming around, and soon we made it to the living room and he immediately snuggled up with me on the couch. Yes, the “sheer bliss and happiness” is going to still be right here. No sibling rivalry at the Newton’s!

Being so actively involved in many mothering and parenting organizations, my boys were around other’s babies all of the time. I had always cautioned them to not hold the babies’ hands, but they could pat their little feet. Matthew was so sweet. He kept coming up to me as I was holding Stephen in my arms, patting me and patting the baby. It wasn’t long before he asked to “kiss the baby’s feet”. Isn’t this just too cute! I am ecstatic! My wonderful family of all boys living in “sheer bliss and happiness.” Couldn’t get much better. So, with that cute, innocent little smile of his, Matt SWEETLY took Stephen’s little foot in his hands and began kissing his toes.

Suddenly, with lightening speed, he bared his teeth and sunk them down into Stephen’s toes! Stephen started SCREAMING; Matthew started SCREAMING; I was horrified, and felt like SCREAMING.

HE BIT HIS TOES. AND HE NEARLY BIT THEM OFF!!!!! If you don’t know, I will tell you – babies little toe bones aren’t completely calcified and “attached” to the feet. And Matt bit the toes right at the joint where they should attach to the foot.

NOW MY BABY HAS 3 TOES JUST DANGLING ON THE END OF HIS FOOT BY MERE STRIPS OF SKIN.

Of course, there is Daddy to the rescue. He takes Stephen, wraps his foot up (little if any blood involved), I get Matt into my lap to settle him down, and after an interminable length of time, we assess the damage and decide that a hospital visit might be necessary to stitch the toes back on the foot.

Needless to say, we were received with many chuckles and downright laughs at the ER! After a couple of stitches in 2 little toes, we are back home.

I would LOVE to say that everything was “sheer bliss and happiness” after that one incident, but I would definitely be lying. We had never had a playpen with the first 3 boys, nor had we used a baby bed since Adam was about 9 months old. However, it wasn’t long before I had to use both: Not to keep the baby “in” something, but to keep Matt “out” from the baby. He would sit on Stephen, lay down on him, put LOTS of covers or pillows over him, put LOTS of toys on him – need I go on. I had to do whatever I could to keep the baby safe. Matt always assured me the baby wanted the covers, the baby wanted him to jump on him, etc. It was a trip! Yes, I could go on, to the story about the broom and the Dr Scholl’s shoes, but those are for later. Don’t want to overload you with too much fun at one sitting…

And here we are, 20 years later. And while the implements of “torture” have changed, the attitudes haven’t. Oh, I have NO doubt that they love each other, and, as brothers, have each other’s back, but they are still a trip! They still can’t get along very well. They just now have MUCH to say to each other about EVERY thing. Don’t believe me? Just ask all of the people that sit behind us at church.