This is the story of a miracle, a miracle that happened forty years ago. It is the story of how God blessed our family with a perfect little baby boy, who we named Jeffrey.
I thought it would be neat for Jeffrey to know the circumstances surrounding his birth from his mother's point of view. So often we wonder, but never ask.
August 18, 1970, 5:00 am
I'm not an early riser, but on this day I got up early. I went to the bathroom and discovered I was in the early stages of labor. Uh oh. It was happening. I was going to have my baby. There was no more time to think about it or plan for it and there sure was no stopping it.
A bizillion thoughts were running through my head. What do I do now? I'm just nineteen. What did I know? I never had a baby before and I didn't know what to expect. I need to call my doctor. No, first I needed to eat. I read somewhere that you shouldn't eat when you're in labor. But I was hungry! So I toasted two Thomas' english muffins and had them with a glass of milk. Who knows, this might be my last meal for a while. There, I feel better. Now I can call my doctor.
Every morning from 6:00 to 7:00 a.m. my doctor, Dr. Robert Schrier, had question and answer time for expectant mothers. Great! I would call and ask him what I should do. When I got Dr. Schrier on the phone and explained what was happening to me, he told me to come to his office at 9:00 so he could give me an examination.
By now Don was up and getting ready for work. I told him what was happening. He said he would drive me to his sister Betty's house and she would take me to see the doctor. He would go on to work and check on me throughout the day. So that's what we did. At the doctor's office, my doctor told me I was in the very early stages of labor and it may be a while before I delivered. "Go home and come to the hospital around 3:00 p.m. for another exam. And don't have any solid foods to eat," he said. Boy, was I glad I had the foresight to eat those two english muffins when I did.
So back to Betty's house we went where I had chicken broth for lunch. Yum. Around 3:00, Betty took me to St. Charles Hospital in Port Jefferson where we met up with Dr. Schrier. After a quick examination, he told me I was hardly dilated at all. He said I probably wouldn't have my baby until the next day. He told me to go home and come back to the hospital just after midnight. He said I would be charged for the whole day if I came in before then. I'm glad he said that because we didn't have maternity insurance because I was already pregnant when Don got his job with the New York Telephone Company.
I stayed at Betty's house until Don picked me up after work. My labor pains were tolerable, but slow going. I do not remember much of that evening. I probably had more chicken broth for dinner. Yum yum. I tried to go to sleep at a normal hour, but the pains were annoying enough and kept me awake, plus I was anxious about the whole process of labor and delivery. One clear memory I have is of Don and me watching my belly as each contraction started and ended. It was an amazing sight to us first time parents-to-be.
August 19, 1970 12:00 midnight
At last we were headed to the hospital. I had my little bag with my nightgown and size 9 slippers.
Sidebar: towards the last weeks of pregnancy, my feet had swelled so much due to fluid retention. I had to buy slippers that were two sizes larger just to get my feet in them. Not a pretty sight then (or now-inside joke).
Getting back to the story, we finally arrived at St Charles Hospital and I was seated in a wheelchair and wheeled to the admissions office. Since we had no maternity insurance, we had to sign our life away and practically promise our first born son to insure them that we would pay the bill. Then an aide took me to the labor room. Don stayed behind until I was situated in the room. After being poked and prodded in every way imaginable, the nurse asked me if I wanted to see my husband. I said no. I'm not sure why. Maybe I wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe I was just scared and wanted to be by myself. Nobody prepared me for anything like this, not like they do today. Back then you experienced labor and delivery on your own and it was a scary time for a new mom-to-be.
August 19, 1970 3:15 p.m.
"Mrs. Neidhart, Mrs. Neidhart," I heard someone say. "You had a baby boy." What? Was it over already? What happened?
That's how I found out I had a baby boy. A nurse told me. To this day I don''t remember what happened from that last contraction exam until I heard the nurse calling my name. "The Miracle" had happened and I was so drugged I slept right through it.
But...
Jeffery Donald Neidhart was finally here, all 8 lbs. 5 oz. of him. He was the cutest little baby I had ever seen in all the world. And he was a good baby. At just ten days old he started sleeping through the night. I was trying to give him his 2:00 a.m. feeding and he wouldn't wake up. I tried to wake him up by tickling his feet. He just kept sleeping. I put the bottle to his lips and tried to make him drink. The milk ran down the side of his face. I was so concerned that I called his pediatrician the next morning telling him I was afraid Jeffery wasn't getting enough to eat. He laughed and said, "Mrs. Neidhart, let your baby sleep. He'll let you know when he's hungry." And he did.
The years have been good to Jeffery. He was an adorable little boy who grew into a handsome young man. He has a mother and father who love him very much, even though we ended the marriage when Jeffrey turned five. He's smart too. He graduated from college with a degree in Accounting and went on to get his CPA. Jeff is married and has three little miracles of his own. Today, he turns forty years old and I am very proud of the man he has become.
I remember holding Jeffrey one night when he was just a few days old. I had my knees up and cradled him in my lap. Watching him I could imagine him inside my belly. What a miracle, what an awesome miracle. This baby grew inside me. Yes, giving birth to a child is a miracle and even though these miracles happen every day to women all over the world, they are no less special.
Jeffery, you are my miracle. I love you. Happy Birthday!
Love and hugs, Mom
