a sampling of stories

My children’s mother, Joan, was very pregnant with our second child. We had just gotten our first cell phone the previous Christmas. As I was packing my bag for the practice, I made sure the phone was fully charged. This model was referred to as a compact unit. However, it was still the size of about two decks of playing cards.
Before I left, Joan told me she felt OK but not like usual. “I can call you if anything happens.” Out the door I went for the hour and fifteen minute drive from Sugar Hill to Athens. Her mother had also come over from Woodville, Mississippi to help.
As I’m getting dressed with the other officials, I’m telling them that we are just about at our due date and that Joan was feeling a little bit differently that morning. Jimmy Harper tells me to just go on back home. They could work the scrimmage without me. No problem.
I showed them the cell phone and that I would have it on the field with me. Cell phones were not all that prevalent in 1993. Particularly amongst young couples starting out.
About 45 minutes into the scrimmage, the phone rings. Fortunately, we were in a break during the practice. When I answered, the person on the other end was my mother. “Joan’s water broke, we’re on our way to Northside Hospital. We’ll see you when you get here.” Northside was the baby factory in Atlanta. They were following the plans that had put in place over the last couple of months.
I told Jimmy Harper that “It was time.” My car was parked under the east end of the stadium. I took off my striped shirt and jumped in for the drive to the hospital. It’s about noon.
Speaking of east end of the stadium, Sanford Stadium is the only one in the conference that is lined up east to west. All the other stadiums are north and south.
When I parked at the hospital, I grabbed my bag and went inside. Other than a solid black shirt, I’m in my full blown SEC officiating uniform. I was hard not to notice. The receptionist directed me to the room where Joan and my mom were. After I took a quick shower and dressed, my mom wished us well and went home. She only had a ten minute drive through Sandy Springs.
At this point, her water had broken but there were no contractions. A couple of hours later, the contractions started. Things were beginning to happen. When they got more intense, the epidural was administered. That’s a big, friggin’ needle.
Once that procedure was completed, the pain Joan had been experiencing diminished. But so did the rate of her dilation. Things began moving at a snail’s pace. It’s now about 10:30. There’s a lot of activity due to the labor and delivery nurses coming in on a regular basis checking on her progress.
I’m starving. I hadn’t had anything to eat in over fourteen hours. I found a snack machine and the nurses brought some drinks from their breakroom. We’re just waiting. Things are not moving along very fast.
Around four o’clock the following morning, things went from around ten miles an hour to a hundred. Two nurses came in the room. “We got to go. Here, put this on. Place your personal items under the gurney and follow us.” They handed me a yellow, paper jump suit with matching shoe and head covers. I ended up putting on the jump suit backwards. I’ve been up for almost twenty four hours and suffering from malnutrition.
We were in the operating room very quickly. I was an observer, at this point. Joan was being prepped for surgery. It was amazing to watch how everyone functioned as a team. I was asked about watching the surgical procedure. I’m sure they didn’t want to be picking me up of the floor in case I fainted. I went back and forth from talking with Joan to watching the surgeons. It was an amazing experience. When they began to reach in a pull the baby out, Joan asks me, “Are they touching me? I feel pressure.” Uh, yeah. The epidural was doing it’s thing.
“It’s a girl!” exclaimed the doctor. We had chosen not to know what the sex of the baby was. Our son had been born almost six years before. Having a daughter wonderful. We had already picked out her name, Susan Elizabeth.
Two other medical people were brought in right after the delivery. They were respiratory therapists. Susan was not getting the oxygen she needed. We were reassured that everything would be OK. At that moment, she went from blue to pink. They finished cleaning Susan and were taking care of Joan. The two individuals who had worked on Susan told me to come with them. “You can go up to your wife’s room after she leaves the recovery room.” It’s now about five o’clock Sunday morning.
As I am walking with the two people pushing this incubator contraption, the male person asks “You don’t know who I am, do you?” I’m thinking to myself, “Well hell know. I’ve been up for 24 hours, I’m starving, y’all just saved my daughter’s life and all I can see are your eyes. I simply replied “No.”
He pulls down his mask and it’s Rusty Warren. I had gotten to know him through my roommate at Millsaps College. He and Jody, my roommate, grew up in the same Mississippi gulf coast town, Long Beach. Rusty was going to school at the Mississippi Medical College. I almost panicked. This guy was an absolute party animal in college. After witnessing his lifesaving work and combining that with my memories of him, I was very confused. How could somebody make that kind of progress in life. Yes, there’s always hope.
We couldn’t visit much at all. They were immediately called to another operating room. I thanked them and said “Goodbye.” I’ve never seen him since.
Susan was taken into the nursery and checked out. A nurse picked her up and draped her across her left arm. She then took what looked like a rubber spoon and began to beat the snot out of her, literally. She must have sensed my alarm. She pressed a button by her station and over this little speaker tells me “She’ll be fine in just a minute. Don’t worry.”
Everything was fine. I visited with Joan and we both needed sleep. They were going to keep Susan in the nursery for a while. I went home and slept like a baby, myself. Around four o’clock Sunday afternoon, my mother-in-law woke me up so I could drive back down to the hospital. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was still the afternoon and not the next morning.
They brought Susan into the room shortly after I got there. I held Susan for a while and then laid her in my lap where she fell sound asleep. The nurse commented on how calm Joan, and I were with the new baby. We were. Susan slept through every night after that.
We went home on a Tuesday, 3 March. Four days later, the blizzard of 1993 hit. We knew it was coming. I had stacked all the firewood on the deck by the back door. Propane cookers were set up in the garage. We had plenty of water and food. We were ready.
It started on Saturday morning, 7 March. I had never experienced thunder snow. Fifteen inches later, it quit. We only lost power for about thirty minutes. Joan’s father had driven over from Mississippi. Her mom had already been there for three weeks. Our little three bedroom house was getting small. Her parents were a big help, but it was nice to be home with just the four of us. August was as good of a big brother as any sister could have. And still is!