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Birth dates bring up memories of every kind, size

February 28, 2010
By SANDY MICKELSON, Messenger staff writer

Today would have been a tough day for me 37 years ago.

It was Wednesday. Our weekly paper, the Keene Valley Sun, hit the streets on Thursday. It was a small weekly, just four full-size pages. We printed on a big Babcock sheet-fed press. Every time my husband placed a sheet of blank newsprint on the cylinder and stomped a pedal, the cylinder went around and the paper was printed on that side.

I sat behind the press to catch each paper and stack it neatly so we could fold them later - yes, we had to fold our own papers - and it was mind-numbing torture. The only thing worse was actually folding the papers.

Anyway, it's 10 p.m., we're just halfway through the first press run, though press run sounds awfully formal for what we did. I reached sideways to grab a paper trying to fly past me, and the twisting must have opened the gates. My water broke.

Oh, I didn't say I was pregnant. I was. Six weeks to due date. But my water broke. We lost three sheets of newsprint before my husband could check his printing rhythm and stop the press.

I called the doctor, then made the mistake of telling Walt we didn't have to go right then. He made us finish the run, and I had to get the mailing sheets finished. Of course, when that was done, he was insistent we go immediately - wouldn't even let me clean up. I'm probably the only woman in all of Weld County Hospital's history who they actually made take a shower before getting into bed.

Then the tough times started, since Dana didn't arrive until two days later, on March 2, 1973. If I hadn't been so naive, I would have worried. Nobody could hear her heartbeat until the doctor came in to listen. She'd had the hiccoughs just a few hours earlier - I knew she was in there.

But what I'm getting at is no matter how tough those two days were, holding that little black-haired bundle in my arms took my breath away. As if I'd been given something for nothing.

That may be how Janet Hilbert, of Fort Dodge, feels when she holds her grandson, Kyle Scott Lewis Moore, born Feb. 10 to her son, Anthony Hilbert, of Fort Dodge, and Sara Moore, of Hardy. It was a birthday present for her, maybe, since Feb. 10 is her birthday, too. It's also the birthday of her daughter, Jessica Hilbert, of Fort Dodge.

Feb. 10 is going to be some kind of party in years to come.

The baby's maternal grandmother is Rose Moore, of Hardy. Kyle Scott Lewis Moore carries the names of both his grandfathers - Scott Hilbert and Lewis Moore - as his middle name. His eyes are "kind of a bluish color and he has tons and tons of hair," said Janet Hilbert of her first grandchild. "He's just adorable. We're very proud grandparents."

See, whether it's your child or your grandchild, the love starts immediately, and nothing else matters.

So long friends, until the next time when we're together.

Contact Sandy Mickelson at (515) 573-2141 or smickelson@messengernews.net

 
 

 

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