Happy Birthday, Will

Yes, I know I said I wasn’t going to post any more, but I have a good reason.

Twenty-two years ago, Will James Weathers was born. It wasn’t easy getting him here. I tend to have premature babies anyway and he seemed determined to enter the world months before he was ready. I spent a day with heavy contractions and the next day my body rested. Then the whole cycle started all over.

I went back and forth to the hospital several times when they didn’t stop at two minutes like they normally did. Since we lived thirteen miles from town, I always took supplies with me in case I didn’t make it as I drove myself to the hospital. Don was a long haul truck driver then so he was seldom home.

On top of that, I was placenta previa. I had been warned if the placenta tore I could easily bleed to death before I got to town.

I had some kind of nerve damage so my right leg would just go out from under me at times. My washer and dryer had gone out so I washed clothes in the bathtub and then took them outside to hang out on the clothes line. It wasn’t easy, but I am happy to report my two older boys never once went to school with dirty clothes. I was paranoid about falling down the stairs and hurting Will, so I sat down on the stairs from the house and scooted down them with my laundry basket of wet clothes.

Being pregnant is like taking so much poison. I get violently ill and puke my guts out for the duration. I’ve had several ivs for dehydration because of it.

As with all my babies, Will had his preferences long before he was born. Chocolate excited him. It still does. He liked to play with me. He matched my movements as I ran my hand over my stomach. Sometimes we just relaxed and hugged each other. I’m not sure how to explain that, but mothers probably understand. He stuck a little fist or butt up so it was poking my stomach and I cupped a hand over him. He was content to just stay there with Mama holding him.

I had some other medical complications also, so I didn’t want to be drugged when I had him. They gave me one shot when I first came in to relax me and then I toughed the rest of it out. I wanted to be completely awake if something happened and I didn’t want the drugs affecting the baby.

Several hours into hard labor I was told it would be hours more. That’s when I gave up. I sat up, started unhooking the monitors and untaping the iv so I could take it out. When Don protested, I calmly said, “That’s it. I give up. I can’t do this. I’m going home.”

I’m not really sure how my demented brain thought just leaving the hospital would stop the labor. Bear in mind I had gone through this three times before so I did understand how it worked.

Less than an hour later, Will made his entry.

From the moment he came into this world, he was just glad to be here. It was as if he knew how hard it was to get here and he was thankful to have made the journey. The nurses argued over who was going to rock him because he was such a pretty baby and so sweet-natured. He went septic soon after he was born and they finally had to put the ivs in his head to fight the infection. Even with all the needles, poking, prodding and pain, he still remained a little sweetheart.

When I finally got him home, he always woke with a smile. Most babies fuss if they don’t get their nap out. It didn’t matter if he had slept fifteen minutes or two hours, he woke up happy. His eyes lit up when he recognized one of us and it was like the sunshine peeking out from behind a cloud.

He has always had a laid back, easy-going personality with a wicked sense of humor.

In school he was popular with most kids, but he wasn’t a socialite. One of his best friends was a very odd-looking boy who was a classic nerd. Michael was brilliant, played in the orchestra, as did Will, and was a total klutz. Will’s best friend was the football star. They had their own table in the lunch room and anyone was welcome to sit with them, but they didn’t tolerate anyone being mean to Michael. Of course, they all razzed each other horribly, but it was done in love.

That’s just the way Will is. He didn’t notice money or the cool kids or clothes or whatever made people popular. He just liked people and he especially liked people who didn’t take themselves seriously.

We went to Midland one day for something and he said, “Mom, let’s go play miniature golf.” We did and then he talked me into playing laser tag. He didn’t mention it was under black lights and my long-sleeved white shirt and new tennis shoes made a perfect target. I was such a perfect target the kid at the counter called all the other employees over to look at my score card since no one had been hit nearly as many times as Will hit me. I may still hold the record.

He’s always been my buddy and friend. Together, we gutted and completely rebuilt a house. Most kids are out roaming the malls when they are in high school. He came home to help me build. There isn’t a room in that house that doesn’t have Will in it. I look at the wallpaper we hung, the cabinets we built, the walls we built, the sheetrock we hung, the windows we installed. Will is everywhere.

Will is the one who talked me into writing fantasy stories. He has always been my staunchest supporter. He believed even when I didn’t.

I wasn’t going to go to Surrey because I knew he would be deploying sometime between November and January. It seemed like poor timing to me. It especially seemed like bad timing when we found out he is deploying November 2. Once again, he was the one who believed in me. I have to go so I can sell my book and we can go to Ireland when he gets back. I think mainly he thought I needed to be around my writer friends.

I think we all know the chances of getting an agent at Surrey are very slight. Even so, he has faith in me and my dream. The thought that I might never sell a book is a foreign concept to him.

We all need something to believe in and we all need someone to believe in us.

I thank God for my children.

Happy birthday, Will.

Mother loves you.