Today, August 11, 2008

marks the 21st birthday

of MY BABY,

Stephen Hart Newton!!!

Happy Birthday to You!!

(a smart-alecky man one time told me that Paul had 4 sons, but I only had 3 sons. Three sons and a baby! Smart-aleck indeed!)

There definitely is a “story” with Stephen Hart. As with most of my stories, a little foundation work is necessary. However, with this one, I feel I must be more than discreet in the laying of the foundation, not to embarrass Stephen, any reader, or even me. Yet, there are some things that must be explained to understand “the rest of the story.”

As I have said several times previously, Paul and I have mainly strived to be more back-to-nature kind of people. It truly isn’t the “hippie” brand of natural, but a more simplistic Christian style. We always wanted God to be at the helm of our marriage, and therefore looked to Him for direction in all facets of our lives – including birth control. We practiced what is called Natural Family Planning, a highly successful method of planning when to have children, and how to not get pregnant. Our success rate for the first 9 years of our marriage was 100%. Adam, Andrew, and Matthew had been planned to the month.

For years, on the first weekend in December, Paul and I, with the kids, went to Dickens on The Strand in Galveston. We dressed in period costumes and simply had a blast. It was Dec of 1986. Matt was 14 months old. Paul had just come back from a class in Dallas. He came in on Friday and we wanted to go to Galveston for Saturday. I had worked and sewed getting our clothes together. I really hadn’t been feeling very well for a few days – kinda flu-ish. But nothing serious.
If you’ve never gone to Dickens on The Strand, let me assure you it is wonderful. Sights to see everywhere. Something going on literally on every corner – and in the middle of the street! There are “hawkers” selling their wears and food galore. Bagpipes, street urchins, gorgeous clothes. Remember this is supposed to resemble Dickensian England – mid 1800’s.

There was also smells emanating from everywhere and everything. Literally.

My flu-ish feeling went from bad to worse. Everywhere we went some smell would assault my nose and I would rush to find somewhere to heave. I was lightheaded, past nauseated, gagging constantly, and generally yukky, too. I felt simply awful and worried about ruining everyone’s good time, and giving Matt, who I held most of the day, my flu. I was not having a good time.

Well, of course, you’ve all got it figured out by now. My “FLU” was delivered the next August. We were so shocked when we found out that I was pregnant! Yes, we knew how it happened, but we didn’t know how it “happened”.

PLEASE, never get the idea that Stephen wasn’t a “wanted” baby. Oh, he most assuredly was. We wanted a big family – the more the merrier. He just wasn’t a “planned” baby.

However, the real truth of the matter is, God knew what Paul and I needed. I had some fairly serious, undisclosed health concerns, and if we would have waited to have baby #4, we never would have been able to even conceive him. So, God gave us Stephen at just the right time.

Of course, getting Stephen here was a whole ‘nother story. It was a very different pregnancy. Very different. I have always had low blood pressure – however, with this pregnancy, my blood pressure simply stayed out-the-roof. Then to make matters worse, the baby would go for days and never move – a concern of mine and the doctor’s. My doctor wanted me to have full bed rest. PUH-LEEZ! I had an 8-year old, a 5-year old and a 1 year old. REST!?!?! Sure!

Then came the delivery. I had relative easy deliveries with the first three boys – and they were big babies. Adam weighed 9 lbs, Andrew 10, and Matthew 11 lbs, and all of them were 21 inches long. Good sized babies.

I went to the hospital at 1:00. The doctor said I was 100% ready to have the baby. Well, this baby was NOT 100% ready to get here. The baby just didn’t want to move. Then, he decided he did want to move - at the wrong time, right in the middle of a contraction – and of course, the wront way, sideways. Then, no matter what the doctor did, the baby would not move again. (Yes, I can hear people saying, and Stephen’s still like that, isn’t he!!! HAHAHAHA!!!)

My blood pressure quickly became a serious issue, and the doctor felt a caesarean section was necessary. I was devastated to go this route, but knew I didn’t have any options. And, thankfully, even though it was considered an emergency, the doctor would still let Paul be with me.

So, at 11:23 pm (or at 23:23, as we say at the Newton house), Stephen Hart Newton came into this world, tipping the scales at 12 lbs, and measuring 21 inches.

He was a big baby. He filled up the little plastic isolette-thing they used to hold him. The hospital personnel were coming from everywhere to see the “grown baby”. He was an instant celebrity.

AND, he was a very “red” baby with DARK hair. Nothing like the others. All of my other babies were very light, pink-ish, and bald. Yes, he was different, even then…

But he was such a good baby. A very content baby. Yes, like the rest of my babies, he was happiest being held, loved being close to mama. Nothing wrong with that! I completely wore out the Lazy Boy rocker, too. Matt sat on one side, and Stephen in my arms on the other side – then they’d change sides. It was an ongoing event. Matt was so jealous of the new baby, but that’s story has already been told.

But one thing I know for sure: I would never change a thing about how I loved and nurtured my boys.

Oh, I have many more Stephen stories, but that’s for later. For now, just let me close by saying

Happy Birthday, Steve-O.

You’re my favorite piano player in the world.

And you’re my favorite son, named Stephen!!!