Joseph Guyton - First American Soldier To Die On German Soil in WWI



Private Joseph W. Guyton

      My blog this week is not about me or any memory I hold.  It is about a man who gave his life for his country in The Great War.  It is about a man who stood brave in the front lines and perished. It is about a man who left his family behind to fight for our great nation so their family could have a better way of life.  That soldier was Private Joseph William Guyton of Evart, Mi. 


     Joseph Guyton was born on June 10, 1889 in Evart, Michigan, a small town known for its lumber mills back in its day.  Pioneers were just settling the area back in 1866 through homesteading after the Civil War.  He attended a small school house just outside of town.  At age 20 he married his sweetheart Agnes Winona Baker from Lake City, Mi.  Two years later in 1911 they had a daughter named Olive Clara Guyton.  Life at this point was going very well. 

      In 1914 war broke out over in Europe.  America tried to stay neutral but Germany kept violating our neutral status.  On May 7, 1915 German U-boats sunk the sister ship to the Titanic, The Lusitania.  1198 passengers lost their lives including 128 American's.  America was very upset and cries for war emerged across the country.  Finally on April 6, 1917 the United States of America declared war on Germany.  Some men enlisted and others were drafted.  Guyton was drafted. 

     Under military law Guyton could have refused to go since he only had a daughter and no name sake in case he should die.  Guyton was too proud not to go.  He felt it was his duty to go since he was called to war.  Guyton was with the 126th Infantry Regiment which was attached to the 32nd Infantry Division also called the Red Arrow Division. 

Location on the map is where the front lines were between Germany and France in 1918.  The red dot near the bottom is where Joseph Guyton received that fatal shot.
Photo Courtsey of Mark Wilson



     Around the midnight hour gun fire was being exchanged between the US and the Germans near Alsece region.  Since Guyton was on the front lines he was instructed to fire his gun intermittenly.  In return fire Guyton was struck in the temple and died instantly (Wikipedia).  He was 28 years old.  He was buried at a nearby church yard.  France, who we were allied with, gave Joseph Guyton the Croix De Guerre (The Grand Cross of Honor) after his death. 

Guyton’s body was buried here with Military honors given by unit Chaplin Patrick. Dunnigan at the Church of Notre Dame de Gildwiller along with other Americans that were killed later in the same sector.

Photo and information courtesy by Mark Wilson

Church of Gildwiller.  A playground exists where the soldiers were once buried.
Photo and information courtesy by Mark Wilson



     A few months after Guyton's death his wife had lost her life with the flu epidemic that was sweeping the nation in 1918.  Their only daughter was left to the care of other family members.   The war was declared over on November 11, 1918. 



                                          

                                                         Located in Forest Hill Cemetery in Evart, Mi. 

    

   

      America wanted to bring her deceased soldiers home.  In May 1921, President Warren G. Harding had a ceremony at Hoboken, New Jersey for over 5,000 soldiers that gave their lives and were finally being sent to their final resting place here in the US.  He placed a presidential wreath on the flag-drapped coffin of Private Joseph Guyton (Wikipedia).  President Harding spoke these words, "In the name of the republic, I bestow this tribute on the casket of the first soldier who perished on the soil of the enemy... I chose it because I am offering the tribute to the one returned whose death on enemy soil marked the day when our civilization went face forward and the assault on our present day civilization knew it had failed. May 24, 1918, is the date on which this soldier was killed, and the name is that of Joseph W. Guyton, Company I of the 126th Infantry, a resident patriot and hero of the State of Michigan of the United States of America."


     Five days before of what would of been Guyton's 31st birthday his remains were returned home to Evart, Mi.  Over 10,000 people waited at the depot to show Guyton their proper respect, Civil War Veterans, over 500 soldiers, government officials not to mention local citizens.  His body lays to rest in Forest Hill Cemetery just east of Evart.   

Main Street in Evart. 
Photo courtesy by Mark Wilson

Funeral procession
Photo courtesy by Mark Wilson

Funeral procession
Photo courtesy by Mark Wilson

Horse wagon carrying Joseph Guyton's body to his final resting place.
Photo courtesy by Mark Wilson

Forest Hill Cemetery in Evart, Mi.
Joseph Guyton being laid to rest.
Photo courtesy by Mark Wilson



      The next week Olive, Guyton's 10 year old daughter, gave the flag that draped over her dad's casket to the American Legion Post in Evart.  A year later Olive went to join her mother and father in heaven after suffering from pneumonia.  The whole family now lays at rest together along side Joseph Guyton's parents.

Joseph Guyton

Agnes Guyton, wife of Joseph Guyton

Olive Clara Guyton
Daughter of Joseph and Agnes Guyton

Isaac Guyton
Father to Joseph Guyton

Olive Guyton
Mother to Joseph Guyton



     Joseph Guyton is remembered today by a local park in Evart, the Joseph W. Guyton American Legion post in Evart, the US-10 "Guyton" Bridge over the Muskegon River in Osceola County, and Guyton Elementary School in Detroit which sadly closed its doors in 2009. 

Guyton Park, Evart, Mi.

Front of a plaque at Guyton Park.

Reverse side of plaque at Guyton Park.

Newspaper clipping courtesy of migenweb.com
of naming school in Detroit after Joseph Guyton.
Guyton Elementary school opned its door in 1921
and closed in 2009. 





     THANK YOU, GUYTON FOR YOUR SERVICE.  YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN!

POEM OF JOSEPH GUYTON

by:  Hugh Kephart

(courtesy of Mark Wilson)

                                                             

                                          Joseph Guyton at Camp McArthur, Waco, Tx.
                              Photo courtesy of Mark Wilson

 In bower of roses, fragrant red,
We met paid homage to our dead
Our sorrows tempered in our pride.
We knew the lad who nobly died.
Who died for home, for you and me,
For sacred rights of liberty.
The first to make the sacrifice,
The first to pay the last sad price.
And now proclaimed by sovereign state,
He’s standing first among her great.

With trembling handour Country’s Chief,
Upon his bier laid Nation’s Wreath;
Spoke fitting word now o’er the land.
He said, “It must not be again.”
The man of God and comrades there,
Paid honest tribute to his share,
To him who in the war’s red toil
Was first to fall on foeman’s soil;
Was first to go, nor thought to yield,
Was first to die past Flanders’ Field.

The drooping poppies saw and smiled
To comfort his lone orphaned child;
While saddened comrades vowed and prayed
For strength to guard the little maid.
In thousands met and mourning all,
We gathered ‘round our hero’s pall;
Our first to prove democracy,
Our first to dare autocracy,
Is he, whose form now pulseless clay,
Is first in our hearts today.



 





When Thoughts of Being Murdered Turns Into Being Married.

     It was May 28, 1995.  I was just a few days shy of graduating from Grandville High School.  I was already done with classes but I still had the ceremony to go through.  A relationship of two years ended a month prior and I was about to begin a whole new chapter in my life of adulthood. 

     My dear friend Cyndi was trying to set me up with an old classmate of hers.  Cyndi and I were waitressed together at Apple Blossom Restaurant.  She quit just a few weeks before.  I was a little nervous but okay with it.  She called and said after talking with him that he wasn't interested because of our age difference.  He was 23 and I was 18.  Okay, I thought, I can understand that.  I haven't met him and I wasn't going to get upset about it. 

     A few days later she comes running through the doors at Apple Blossom and pulls me aside.  "He changed his mind!  He is over at my house right now.  Can you come over after work?" she says excitedly.

     "Yea, sure." I reply back, "I have to close up so I won't be out of here until 9:30 pm if that still works?"

     It worked.  I called my mom to let her know that Cyndi was setting me up on a blind date and I will be home to change and head off to her place.  The rest of the evening I was thinking about the meet-up.  I decided not to try to make a big deal and just be who I am.  Plain and regular.  I am who I am and if likes me then yea and if not no big deal. 

     Murphy's law played right into my hands.  For the most part at work the last half hour no one usually came in.  That night about ten to nine at night two couples come in for coffee and dessert.  We were so ready to lock up at 9pm.  The back kitchen was cleaned up, the floors were vacuumed and food was prepped for the morning shift.  This didn't seem fair.  I still had to be polite and serve them.  At 9 O'clock I went and locked up the doors and turned off the outdoor sign.  The couples didn't want to leave.  I know they were enjoying each others company but I had plans.  I think Joe, the cook, thought it was funny as I was pacing back and forth in the waitress area in hopes of these people to leave.  Finally, about 10pm they decide to call it a night and left.  I felt defeated.  I didn't have time to run home and change.  I called my mom back up and let her know I was getting out of work late and I was going straight to Cyndi's.  Here I was about to meet a potential suitor smelling of grease, wearing a dark green waitressing uniform and these ugly brown, thick soled waitressing shoes.  As far as first impressions go this wasn't going to be a great one.

     As soon as I get there Cyndi rushes out the door and says we have to go get the pizza.  He was there and hands me over some money.  On the way to get the pizza Cyndi was asking me my thoughts on him.  I told her I only glanced at him for a few seconds in the dark.  I can't give a good answer yet of what I thought of him. 

     We get back to her place and as the door opened he was sitting there with a smile on his face.  He had  beautiful blue eyes.  He seemed a bit on the thin side but when he stood up he was certainly tall.  It was a nice evening with small chit chat.  I found out he was a country boy while I was a city girl.  He grew up on farms and horses and I grew up on city sidewalks and shopping malls. We did bicker some on the stereotypes of gender and we each are defending our own sex.  "Girls are only after what is in men's jeans" he would say.  I responded, "Men just want a quick night of fun and dash out the door."  He was defending all of the men in the world and I was defending all the women.



282 steps at Mt. Baldhead, Saugatuck, Mi.



     It started getting late.  Brian suggested we all take a drive to Saugatuck and climb Mt. Baldhead.  I remember long ago going there with my mom and her boyfriend and I loved it.  I couldn't resist.   Around midnight Cyndi, her fiance Michael, Brian and I made our way out to hike up Mt. Baldhead.  Mt. Baldhead has 282 steps built on a sand dune.  From the top you can see the town of Saugatuck and on the other side is Lake Michigan.    It was a perfect warm night.  Half way up we decided 4 smokers making this climb wasn't the best thing to accomplish.  Michael went back to the car.  Cyndi, Brian and I continued our trek up the dune. 



view from the top of Mt. Baldhead overlooking Saugatuck





view looking down to Lake Michigan.

                                                    
On the way down we talked about our future.  He said he wanted six children and I wanted six children.  I remember thinking to myself, This is the man I am going to marry! 

We get back to the car and head back to Cyndi's place.  They were calling it a night and going off to bed.  Brian asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat.  It was close to 4 in the morning.  My mom is going to kill me!  At least if she is going to kill me I won't have an empty stomach.  "Sure" I say and we head off to Casey's Restaurant for a bite to eat.  Afterwards we stroll through the parking lot.  "Stay and watch the sunrise with me." he pleads.

"I can't.  I have to be getting back home."  I said.  I really wanted to stay but I had to work that morning at 7am and I needed to refresh myself.  I also had to go home because I knew my mom was beyond livid that I was gone all night.  Brian pulls me up close and gives me a kiss.  YES!

     I quietly open the door and my mother storms around the corner flying towards me angry as can be.  She did have full right to be upset.  I didn't want to add fuel to her fire by telling her we were crusing around Michigan so explained that we watched a movie and fell asleep.  Cydni didn't have a phone at her place and I couldn't call.  She was still upset but understood.  I know I lied but I was okay and why fret over the past that can't be changed anyway.   I was grounded. 

     I headed to work with no sleep.  I was still floating on cloud 9 so lack of sleep wasn't bothering me.  Early that afternoon Brian comes into the restaurant.  He wanted to see me again after work.  I told him I wasn't too sure about it.  I felt silly telling a 23 adult male that I was grounded.  I let him know to call me around 3ish when I was home.  He finished his meal, left me a $2 tip and went on his way.  TWO DOLLARS!  I was expecting a bit more as a way of being extra nice to me.  Talking to him later on in our relationship about it he said he knew I had to claim my tips on my taxes and he didn't want me to pay too much for it.  Logical but not romantic. 

     I get home and realize no one was there.  A note was left saying they went to Holland to visit family.  A smile crosses my face.  I know I was grounded but in haste and early morning hours I was hoping they forgot about it.  Brian calls and wants to take me for a drive.  I told him sure and gave him directions.  I left a note back to my mom telling her of my plans. 

     He picked me up in his pick-up and we drove off.  Lack of sleep was getting the better of me.  I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.  I placed my head in Brian's lap and fell asleep.  Nudge. Nudge. Nudge.  I felt Brian's hands on my sholders trying to wake me up.  I sit up and look around.  We were in a partially wooded area on a dirt road.  I have never been on a dirt road before.  To me dirt roads was where murder's happen.  I didn't know where I was at or even how to begin to get home.  "Come look at this huge tree trunk with me." Brian says.

     I looked at him puzzled.  A tree trunk?  Who looks at tree trunks?!   I have seen enough horror shows in my lifetime to know this would not be a good turn out.  In horror movies there is usually a wooded scene where the killer goes after its victim.  The victim falls, screaming out in terror but there is no one around to hear then SLASH!  The victim becomes worm meal.  I deserve this.  I was stupid enough to go off with someone who I don't even know their last name. I have lived a good life.  I thought as I was getting ready to make peace with my maker.  At least it is a beautiful day to die.  I looked around at the trees overhead.  I took some deep breaths inhaling what would be my last taste of the air.

     "Here it is." Brian beams.  "Look how big around this trunk is!"

     I look over at him.  He is gauking at the size of this trunk.  I walk over to him.  He takes my hand.  This is it.  Here comes the kiss of death!  He walks me around the tree to see if we both can place our arms around the tree trunk.  We couldn't.  I must say the tree was impressive.  It is not something you would expect from someone on a date.  The thought process of my brain must of stopped from total fear exhaustion.  I don't remember where we went next or how I got home or if my mom was there before I was. 

     Sometime later I realize we were only a mile from where he grew up in Martin.  At that time I had no idea Martin let alone Allegan County even existed.   Seventeen years and six children later, we are still going strong and I now prefer dirt roads to drive on.    The tree is still standing.

My Encounter With The Pimp

In 1995 this was the Apple Blossom Restaurant

     In my senior year of high school I worked as a waitress at the Apple Blossom Family Restaurant.  The restaurant was located across the street from Sara Lee Bakery on 28th street just east of Division in Grand Rapids, Michigan.   The New Beginnings Restaurant now takes the place of Apple Blossom.  In 1995 there was a hotel next door with a reputation for prostitution.  Not too often we would see a prostitute walk over with her suitor to get a bite to eat.  Sometimes when the hired women wasn't dressed properly our assistant manager, Debbie, would kindly have them leave the restaurant and remind them the establishment is supposed to be family friendly and they can return after they change their wardrobe.

     One day during the slow hours Debbie was the hostess and I was the only waitress handling the floor.  She came into the back room where I was prepping some food and told me that I had a party of 3 at a table.  I started to make my way out there and she quickly pulled me aside.  "They are from the hotel so be careful."

     Right away I felt dirty.  I didn't want to serve them.  I round the corner and there was a black man with a black woman and a white woman.  Both women were barely wearing modest clothing but since it was slow Debbie let it pass this time.  I remember the white woman was wearing an open lacy vest with a bikini top underneath.  The black woman has a tube top on with and long earrings.  The black guy was just wearing a plain t-shirt.  I put on my happy face and proceeded towards the table. 

     I was polite and took their orders and even came back and gave them refils on their drinks.  I didn't have much communcation with them because I didn't know what to say.  Do I ask how work is going?  Nope.  I don't want to know.  Do I ask them if they are having a nice day?  I don't know what they would consider a nice day so I don't want to know the answer to that question either.  It was better if I seldom opened my mouth.  They eventually left and I went to start bussing off the table.  As I removed some plates I noticed there was not a tip.  Figures!  Shortly afterwards Debbie came up to me and said they left the tip, as they were checking out, with her to be given to me.  I look and Debbie was handing me a $10 bill with a huge smile on her face.  They were overly gracious with the tip.  I slowly raised my hand up and took the $10 from her.  I didn't want to know what was done for this $10 bill to be earned. 



This is exactly what the Caddy looked like.     



     Weeks had passed and the black man came into the resturant by himself.  I was his waitress again.  He asked me who owned the Cadillac in the back.  I told him it was mine.   It was a 1984 Cadillac Eldorado that my grandfather bought brand new and died a few years later.  My mom still owned the title but allowed me to drive it.  I did not like the idea he was inquiring about the car.  "By any chance are you willing to sell it?" he asked.

     "No.  It's my mom's car really and I know she wants to keep the car."  I replied back.  

     "If she ever wants to sell it let me know.  I can pay her cash for it."  I just smiled and walked away thinking I will never come looking for you to buy this car with your dirty money!  

     Some time has passed.  I didn't give the pimp guy a second thought.  I had the day off and I was driving across town to pick someone up from work.  He worked over at Kenny Rogers Roasters on the far east side of 28th street.  Traffic was heavy that day.  I was nearing the intersection of Eastern and 28th street.  I had to wait for the light at least twice already.  I remember I was in the left lane, music pumping, minding my own business.  Then my passenger side door opens.

     It started me.  "Did you talk to your mom about selling the car yet?" It was the pimp.  I was shocked!  He enters the car and shuts the door.  I was holding my breath and looked around waiting for the candid cameras to pop out from behind a tree or from another vehicle.  "You wouldn't mind dropping me off at the hotel over by the Beltline would you?"  he asked.

     "I am on my way to pick someone up from work now.  I really don't have the extra time."  I said politely. 

     "It won't be that much trouble." the pimp said as he was fastening his seatbelt, "This is as nice on the inside as it is on the outside."  he said about the car. 

     The light turned green.  It was all surreal.  As I took my foot off the break and started pressing down on the gas.  I told him I would only take him to the corner of the Beltline and 28th street.  He can walk to the hotel.  We drove on.  He kept mentioning how he loved this car.  I kept thinking this is not normal.  People don't just walk into other people's car and demand for a ride.  Then he started mentioning how nice I looked with my hair down.  Resturant policy has us wear our hair up in a bun to keep it off the collar.  When I am not working I kept my hair down and it was just over my sholders.  I smiled and lit up a cigarette.  I just concentrated on the road and ashing out my window.  That way I didn't have to glance in his direction.  My foot pressed down on the accelerator a bit harder. 

     We neared the intersection of the Beltline and 28th street.  He thanked me for the ride and asked if I wanted to come meet some people inside.  I reminded him I was dropping him off at the corner and I was not entering the hotel/bar parking lot.  There must of been a firmness to my voice because he didn't debate with me on the issue.  He left the car and I drove down a bit and turned my car around in another business parking lot and drove west to Kenny Roger's Roaster to pick up my friend. 

     I have learned to drive more aware of my surroundings and to keep my door locked.  He never came back into Apple Blossom that I have known of.  I am so thankful that nothing more had happened. 

      

    

    



The First Communion

     One of the sacraments that a person growing up in the Catholic faith looks forward to is the First Communion.  While attending mass services as a young child I remember seeing lines of older people and some older youths swaying slowly side to side, penguin-style towards the front to receive the Eucharist.  Those waiting in line and those returning to their seats join in singing to the song that was projected onto the front screen at the front of the church.  I couldn't wait until it was my turn to join in on this procession. 

     Second grade at St. Thomas Aquinas was the time we started to train for our sacrament of the First Communion.  It was a right of passage.  No longer during our Thursday church service did we sit and watch the third graders go up and receive the body and blood of Christ but we were about to join them in doing so.  This somehow made us older, more responsible young children.  We could do something that first graders and under couldn't do.  It was a feeling of a secret club that only those who receive the sacrement could share in on.  We all anxiously awaited for our Sunday to receive this sacrament.

     Mrs. Stingline was our teacher and the other second grade teacher was Sister Angelisha.  Mrs. Stingline was an older teacher but still was wonderful with children.  She would stand up in front of the class with a roll of the host and show us how to hold our hands, one on top of the other with palms facing up.  "This is the body of Christ" which she instrusted us to reply by saying, "Amen".

     The role the bread was in reminded you of a package of Ritz Crackers in its package.  We were informed to place it whole in our mouths and not take bites from it.  She said that at first it wasn't a taste we would like at first but after a while we would get used to it.  One classmate made a yuck face when it was his turn to take the host.  Mrs. Stingline scolded him saying it was very disrespectful to do so to the body of Christ and he would have to straighen up his look if he wanted to have his First Communion.  Those after him knew to hide their distasteful looks. 

     Then it was my turn to line up and fold my hands the proper way and wait for the line to which I was ready to say Amen.  Mrs. Stingline placed the host in my hands.  I looked at the waffer and thought it looked big and I would probaby choke on it.  I placed it in my mouth and to my suprise it all fit.  It stuck between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.  It was like I was tasting styrofoam.  I made the sign of the cross and quietly walked myself back to my seat.  It wasn't the best moment of my life but if this is what needs to be done then it needs to be done. 

     Next we lined up and learned about the blood of Christ or the wine.  While in training we use grape juice.  She said if we weren't comfortable receiving the blood of Christ we could pass but only after the First Communion.  At our church we were told that we shared a cup which the rim was wiped with a cloth after each sip.  Mrs. Stingline would tell us, "This is the blood of Christ" and we replied, "Amen" and take a small sip.  I think we were all thinking the same thing - I hope no one backwashes!

     We all couldn't take our sacrament at the same time.  It was done all throughout the spring Sundays in church.  Our parents and teachers arranged the dates in which our teacher displayed it proudly in the classroom.  On Thursday service after someone received their First Communion those students would rise up when the usher okayed that row of seats to go forth to receive the body and blood of Christ.  They were excited to join in on the older peers leaving the rest of us envious in our seats. 

     Finally it was my turn.  April 21, 1985.  My friend Melissa was joining in with me to receive this sacrament.  I had a white frilly dress with a real daisy corsage and headpiece.  My mom done up hair up in curlers which I know I must of fought her on as I hated having my hair done up.  I had a small white purse to hold a small first communion pockt book and the order of mass.  My friend Melissa, a few others, and I had reserved seating in the front row.  The priest called us up to the front steps for us to kneel on as he prayed over us.  Then he personally gave each one of us Eucharist with real wine.  It was done.  We now are able to receive communion in church.  We instantly felt older.  Afterwards we celebrated by going out to eat either at the Howard Johnson resturant or the Texan.  We returned home and celebrated some more with some presents.  The following Thursday at school during church it was my turn to stand up and walk slowly to the front to receive the bread and wine.  And proudly I did go. 



I (age 8) standing in front of St. Thomas Aquinas Church in Saginaw, Mi.



L to R:  My sister Lisa, my mom, my brother Marc and me.



My good friend Melissa and I.



L to R: Nonnie (my grandmother), my grandpa and me.



    



I was looking at the Children's Catholic Bible which I still have and treasure. 





A Bible Book I received for my First Communion



     I take for granted the training I had to receive eucharist.  We now attend a Baptist church and we don't have a ceremony for the First Communion.  Children go to Sunday school up until third grade then they stay with the family during church after that.  On the first Sunday of the month the church does communion.  I recently had our son with us during this time.  I didn't realize I didn't prepare him for what to expect.  Instead of walking up to the front of the church to receive a waffer we sat in our seats while a platter of chicklet size bread is passed around.  I motion for James to take one.  I looks up at me confused.  I told him to just hold it and listen to the pastor.  The pastor tells us how Jesus wanted us to remember Him by the last supper and that this was Jesus' body and to eat in rememberance of Him.  Then we ate the bread.  James' eyes grew really wide.  James is the type of boy who takes things literally.  "This is Jesus' body?" he asked me nervously.  He ate it but wanted to spit it out.  I told him he had to swallow it quickly. 



     I couldn't help but chuckle.  I explained that it was in memory of and it really wasn't Christ's body.  Then the small cups of juice was passed around.  James was telling me how tiny these cups are.  "Is this to wash down the bread?" he asks.  When the pastor explained about the blood Christ I couldn't help but snicker.  I knew James was going to question that.  Sure enough James looked at me with a worried look.  I told him it was really juice but we are to remember how Christ sacrificed himself for our sins.  He quickly drank up the juice.  "Yum!" he declares, "Can I have seconds?"   I quickly shushed up James and prayed real hard to Jesus to help hold in my laughter during service.  

     As an adult I now understand what communion really means.  It means that Christ gave himself up for our sins.  He is the Livng Bread in which we shall never go hungry again.  The word of the Lord shall dwell in us forever.

She Entered This World On TV

     The year was 1997.  Life was going great.  Our only child, Christian, was between 10 and 11 weeks old.  Summer was in full swing and we were enjoying being parents.  We thought our lives were complete. 

     I came down with a severe sore throat combined with the flu.  I couldn't function.  I didn't want what ever was ailing me to pass down to my son.  With Brian working long hours it was hard to take on the mom role when I couldn't take care of myself.  I took a trip to the hospital to see if they can figure out what was wrong with me.  They asked if I was pregnant and I told them no.  The doctor said he would still test for that among other things that could be making me oosie.  Negitive results for pregnancy but positive for strep throat.  After a quick prescription I was quickly back on my way home. 

     A week goes by and I feel somewhat better.  I wasn't totally 100% but I could function.  I remember I was in the process of browning up hamburger when a familar smell loomed in the air.  I recalled that smell when I was pregnant with Christian.  It was the horrid smell of browning hamburger when I was pregnant.  My stomach started to do loops and twirls.  I could picture a light bulb flashing on above my head, I AM PREGNANT!  I thought back to the week prior when I took the hospital test for pregnancy and it came up negitive.  I kept telling myself that my nose was playing tricks on me.  It had to be something else.  As I was debating with myself my stomach told me that it was time for the mad dash to the toilet.  I think my body just confirmed what my brain was denying.  Shortly thereafter I went to the store for a home test.  I passed with flying colors.  It is now confirmed.  Christian was going to have a sibiling.

Christian was 11 months old and I was 8 months pregnant.

 

     This time I wanted to be ready for this labor.  I knew what to expect but I just wanted to better prepare my body for it.  We took a lamaze class.  It really did help me learn how to breath with contractions, the different stages of labor and delivery and how to make it a more pleasurable experience.  My body is going to do what it is going to do but anything to help it along, to me, is a benefit.  Our due date was set for May 11, close to 2 weeks after Christian's birthday.  We had an ultrasound to see if we were having another son or a daughter.  With Christian we never had an ultrasound so this was something special to see.  The tiny little butterfly heartbeat and the outline of the head was so facinating to watch.  I could just lay there all day and watch the screen and feel the movements inside of me.  When it came time to finding out the sex of the baby we couldn't do it.  Not that we didn't want to know but the legs were crossed in a way that the lady running the ultrasound machine couldn't tell.  I wanted a girl so bad that I told everyone that she is just a modest female.

     One main concern I had with my doctor was Brian working long hours and the trip to the hospital was an hours drive away.  There was a country hospital near by but I was still new to country living and I needed the city for comfort.  I wanted to go to a place that knew what was going on.   The doctor informed me that generally the second labors are quicker than the first one and he was worried too.  We both didn't want to have this baby at the Wayland exit.  He decided that it would be easier to induce.  The doctor told me he would check his schedule and possiblythe following week we would induce.  He would call and let me know.

     I was on pins and needles all week.  I kept the phone lines open waiting for the doctors call.  Nothing came.  I guess we don't induce.  Sunday night about 11pm the phone rings.  It was the doctor.  He apologizes for the late call but remember that he forgot to call me.  He wanted me to induce me that next morning and if that would still be okay.  I was numb.  The next evening I could be holding my new baby.  I told him that would be fine and we would see him there.  I dash back to the bedroom to wake Brian up.  He was already asleep waiting for his 3am alarm to wake him up.  I told him he needed to call into work because we are going to have a baby the next day.  That woke him up.  He also called his friend to watch Christian for the day.  He had a little boy also and it would be nice for him to have a playmate over for the day.

     The next morning we were rushing around getting both diaper bags packed; one to take with me to the hospital and one to drop off with Christian.  I left a message on my mom's answering machine, "By the time you listen to this message you will have another grandchild."  My mom, her husband and my sister's family took a vacation to Florida and wasn't due back to late that night.  When they left they had no idea that we were even talking about inducing.  This was a time before cell phones were popular so there wasn't a way to contact them to let them know.

     We had a girls name picked out but we couldn't think of a boys name.  We were racking our brains trying to come up with something.  I was so nervous thinking if we have a boy he will be nameless because nothing we thought of we liked.  Our minds were totally blank for a boys name.  We tried to think of a boys name before but now we were pressed for time.  We had 9 months to think of a boys name.  We can't have a baby then tell the nurses that we don't know of a boys name.  The drive was quickly ending.

     We made it to Butterworth Hospital in Grand Rapids.  The best of the best hospitals around.  I was ready for the inducing gel and the cups of ice chips.  I wanted this to go fast.  I even had my search-a-word book to help keep my mind busy.  The doctor comes in and says channel 13 WZZM is doing a segment of what to expect in births and wondered if they could talk with me.  I thought that was thrilling so I agreed.  Time marched on and no one from channel 13 WZZM showed up.  Then a few contractions hit. 

     I remembered my breathing.  They weren't real bad but enough to know that our new baby was on its way.  A nurse came in and I told her I was having contractions.  She walks over to the beeping monitor that keeps track of the baby's heartbeat, as well as mine, and the contractions.  "Nope," she tells me, "you must be having braxton hicks (false labor) because nothing is showing up."  Then she leaves.

     The contractions are coming more frequently and a few more times when the nurse comes in I tell her that I am in labor.  She assures me that it is in my head because nothing is showing up on the monitor.  I start to doubt myself but I know something is happening with my body.  Another nurse enters the room.  This time I was having the contraction.  She looks at me and asks if I am having a contraction.  I told her I have been but the other nurse didn't believe me.  This nurse looks over at the monitor and gets a puzzeling face.  She places her hand over my round belly and just feels for a moment.   A pain surged underneath and I started doing simple breathing to help ease the pain.  To confirmed that I was indeeded in labor.  She looks back at the machine.  Nothing was registered.  She apologized and said that the machine must be broken and they quickly exchanged it for another machine.  After having a few straps placed around my belly and wires hanging off of me I was starting to feel like how Frankenstein's monster must of felt like. 

     Labor was getting intense.  I totally forgot about WZZM channel 13 news coming to interview me.  I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing.  I laid on my side.  One hand grasped the side bar while the other hand looked like it was conducting an orchestra.  My wrist and my fingers were moving in rhythm to my contractions.  For some reason helped ease the pain.  I am sure it looked funny but I didn't care.  My eyes were closed so they couldn't see me.   Soon I kept hearing a strange beeping sound.  It wasn't coming from the monitors but it was nearby.  I could hear my husband telling the nurses that his work is paging him.  Oh he better not take a load! is all I could think.  I wish I had the muscles to talk to give his company a piece of my mind.  Brian reaches over to use the hospital phone to return the call.  Marv, the dispatcher and knowingly full well that we went into the hospital that day to have a baby, was calling to see if Brian wanted to take a load out that night!  Brian alerted Marv, "My wife is in full labor and is about to have a baby very soon!  NO!  I CANNOT TAKE A LOAD TONIGHT!"  I am so glad my husband chose the right anwser, as if there was any doubt.

     For a quick second I opened my eyes long enough to glance at the clock.  It was near 6pm.  I remember thinking that I could be holding my new baby in time for Jeopardy, one of my favorite shows.  It was time to push and in a matter of no time we added a new baby to our family.  When the doctor announced it is a girl a great relief came upon me.  I no longer needed a boys name!  She was a girl, just like we prayed and hoped for.  A beautiful 6 pound 11 ounce, 19 inche long girl. 

My sweet Elizabeth May 6, 1998



     I looked up at Brian to see his reaction when something caught my attention right over his shoulder.  There was a man standing there with a camera.  I gasped in shocked.  I looked around the room and there were some of the staff from WZZM in my room!  I am a very private person and I had no idea they would be there during the delivery.  They must of entered the room while I was concentrating on my breathing and my contractions.  I wanted to quickly look for that button on my hosptial bed that would make the bed fold up in half so it can hide me.  I was so embarrassed.  I think the look on my face spoke a thousand words and the camera guy knew what I was thinking.  He said, "Don't worry.  I didn't video anything private.  It only shows your daughter being lifted up and handed over to your husband."  That wasn't the point.  Obviously I know they are not going to show anything personal on TV.  It was the fact that HE was in there and could see something personal. 

     Throughout our stay at the hospital our daughter was known as the little tv star.  I have to admit, after looking over who is there during her birth, it is neat to see crew of WZZM Channel 13 News.  It aired on May 20, 1998.  They interviewed someone else but it showed our daughter being born into this world.  I thought our life was going great.  It is now only getting better!