Long Childbirth and a Happy Ending

When I was pregnant with my son, we lived in a very tiny town in eastern Colorado. This small community was actually very spread out because it consisted of many farmers and ranchers and their large families. The town had a very small hospital and only one physician.

When it was time from my son to be delivered, my husband took me to the hospital. Although my labor pains were not “hard” at that time, as soon as they broke my water, they became severe. The first 5 hours of labor were fairly easy and I felt, “Great! This will be a breeze!” (I spoke too soon). The next 24 hours were excruciating! In the middle of the night, the nurses took me into the delivery room and had me pushing for two hours. As soon as they took me back to my room, they called my doctor. He came rushing to the hospital furious with the nurses for doing this. I was in so much pain and was completely exhausted from all the pushing with no results.

As I struggled on with my labor, I watched my husband being fed “T-bone” steaks from the hospital staff. (All I was allowed was ice chips and jello).

They were giving me injections for pain, but that didn't give me any relief at all.

After almost two days of hard labor, they took me to X-Ray to see what was keeping my baby from being born. Apparently, I had an extra curve in my pelvis. My labor pains were so intense, I was really really struggling, both physically and emotionally.

After being in intense labor and severe pain for over three days, my husband finally told my doctor, if this baby isn't delivered in the next two hours, I demand you to do a C-section. (He had been asking for a C-section for me prior to this). The doctor kept telling him he did not want to do a C-section because if I gave birth naturally, I would be able to give birth naturally to any future babies. “What?!” (Honestly, the only reason I lasted that long was because I had no other choice). Apparently, this was the mindset in a county that is almost all farmers and ranchers with large families.

Three days and seven hours later, with the help of forcepts, our son was born. After the whole delivery process was complete, the feeling I had was PURE BLISS. Thankfully, my baby was healthy and the long birth did not affect him, however, it did affect me. It took me months to recover from that long delivery and I started having panic attacks and anxiety issues.

Inspite of an excruciatingly painful long labor, I had a perfect, healthy, baby. He was born one day before Mother's Day.

At that time, women and babies were kept in the hospital for almost a week. During the time of my hospitalization, the hospital gave my husand and I a “candlight T-Bone steak dinner with wine” in a room by ourselves.

The Daily Post for today is “Happy Endings“. I thought of this experience and couldn't think of a happier ending than having a beautiful healthy baby. (The candlight steak dinner and wine was just secondary).



Victim Victim Fool Fool!

In non-functional families (I am trying to avoid using the term, “dysfunctional”), there is always at least one person that is in the victim role. Unfortunately, in my family, that would be me.

I grew up being the victim sometimes gracefully but most of the time, not so gracefully.

My personality is such that I automatically trust trusted people. I was stinkin' nice. Always believing in the “golden rule.” Treat people nice and they will treat you nice.

I spent my childhood being chased down the street by my sister with a butcher knife in her hand because I “borrowed” some of her clothes without asking. We fought constantly and often used our fists. She was selfish and self-centered, and I was always in the “survival” mode around her. For some reason, my mother thought this was okay.

I learned to avoid her as much as I possibly could. I learned that my mother would always take up for my sister – to her, she was perfect and I was the “problem” child. I stayed at my grandmother's as much as I possibly could.

With my sister's abuse and the emotional abuse from our father, our home was my nightmare.

In today's world, people think of victims as fools. We are fools because we are considered mindless and weak. (Maybe that is my problem, I am mindless and weak).

When I married I looked forward to being away from the place I was constantly being victimized. Finally! I would be loved, wanted, and needed, and would never again be a victim. What I found, however, is, I did not know any other way to be, but as a victim. When I divorced him, he victimized me even more.

As victims, our self esteem is destroyed and we learn to go inward with all of our emotions; our anger, our fears, and all of our emotional pain.

Because if we don't, again, we are considered weak and are victimized mor

That word, “victim” not only defined me, it chased me, it terrorized me, it abused me, and it threw me into the darkness of severe depression and mental illness. I fought it, I screamed, I kicked, I just wanted to die, but most of all I wanted to survive WITHOUT being a victim! But how? How does one stop being in the role of victim?

Love…maybe that is the answer! I will find someone who really does love me and will treat me with love and respect. I will find a man that will “adore” me and who I will adore. There is a problem with that. Soon you become the victim of gossip and wagging tongues. You are called a “whore”, a “bad” girl, a “hussy”, someone no right-minded good man would want.

For awhile alcohol seemed to do the trick. Alcohol “seemed” to keep me from being the victim. I didn't have to feel all the emotional pain of being victimized. There is a problem with that too. Soon, you become the victim of the alcohol.

I have learned, there is no shortage of victimizers. And, there are no shortage of victims. I have learned that victims are always human. Although many victimizers are humans, some victimizers are not always in “human” form. We can become victims of love, alcohol, drugs, money, greed, work, and you fill in the blank.

What there is a shortage of in this crazy and mixed up world is… kindness, love, and understanding. Until this world is filled with more people with these qualities, there will always be plenty of victims and victimizers.

This is our final day for the Zero to Hero Challenge. I have learned a lot from this challenge and am looking forward to future challenges to further my blogging skills. Thank you to all my readers and friends that have stuck with me through this challenge. I wish you all much success in all your future endeavors, as well as, in your blogging future.


Sweet Potato Pie

My papa and my mama grew me up just right,

teaching me how to act, and important stuff in life.

We never had a lot to eat but we never lacked a meal,

Mama knew just how to cook to make us always feel,

We had the grandest meal that ever had been made

Never mind it be just beans, cornbread and a little marmalade.


One day I went a fishin while my mama baked a pie.

I wanted to catch ol' granddaddy fish and look him in the eye.

He's a legend in this here parts with all the fisher men.

Everyone wanted granddaddy and to reel that bugar in.

And get their name in the local news with their picture too,

for catching old Grandaddy, and get their final due.


I got my bait, my worms and my old' ragged pole,

And went down to the pond where I'd probably bet my soul,

that I'd catch ol' granddaddy and win me all that fame,

Everyone in this here parts would always know my name.

I'd win myself that new rod-n-reel that had always caught my eye,

today will be the day that ol' granddaddy'd surely die.


The breeze was gently blowin through the weeping willow trees,

and the thin branches shook all those airy whispy leaves.

The birds were sweetly singing and chirping right along,

with the frogs that were croaking in the sweetest mellow song.

I threw in my line and sat back to get myself a rest,

Knowing fer sure that fishin is what I surely knowed the best.


The string was cast and tucked through my little toes just right,

so I would know when granddaddy would finally take a bite.

I laid back and listened to the sounds of the singing birds and frogs,

and wondered what they'd be singing about in all those mystery songs.

Were they calling to their sweethearts or just singing to the breeze?

Were they just happy to be singing to the swishing of the trees?


The sun beat down on my face, on my legs, and on my arms

burning my skin and my toes and feeling mighty warm.

It started making me sleepy and I dozed for just a bit,

When my pole started shaking! I finally had a hit!

I started bringing in my string with all my little might

Hoping that it was granddaddy that had finally took a bite.


I struggled and pulled that string with a fish on the end,

Took all my might, and all my strength to pull that bugar in.

Just when I thought I had lost the will to keep up with the fight,

I could tell the fish were comin up into this blessed light.

It was granddaddy! I couldn't believe my eyes!

I'd caught ol' granddaddy! Imagine my surprise!


The birds stopped singing and the frogs didn't croak,

Not a single sound came from their ominous throats.

I looked at granddaddy lying on that bank,

I seen he'd just given up and then my little heart sank.

He fought to breathe in air that simply couldn't be,

He was surely gonna die and it would be because of me.


I picked him up, took out that ugly metal hook

Threw him back into that pond as my little body shook.

And then, the birds and frogs began singing loud and strong

with such a cheerful tune in such a sweet and lovely song,

Then I knew for sure and without a single doubt,

what they had sung all along, what their songs had been about.


Their songs are about us livin' and nature's spirit's in us all,

How we should respect all creatures whether great or whether small.

My heart felt so proud and I was happier beyond all measure,

I found out just what in life is worthy of our treasure.

I learnt me a lesson that day, that I'm a right fine little guy!

Happily, I walk back home to get me some sweet potato pie.


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