Surprise.....Delivery!!

There she is...at the age of 13. Heather Michelle Schmidt. Born on May 3rd, 1994, to my mother, who was 43 at the time she delivered my sister. Wait. WE delivered my sister. Yeah....here's the story same of you have been waiting for...and others have previously heard, but want to hear again for some reason. **chuckle**

Here goes nothing.



Nice spring morning, it was on May 3rd, 1994. My mom had gone out to Red Lobster the night before, to celebrate her boyfriends birthday. It had been a quiet day so far for me. Well, as quiet as can be for a mom of two (ages 5 1/2 and 16 months). Oh yeah. I was also almost 9 months pregnant, also.


I get a phone call from my mom, somewhere around 10:30am, I believe. She was in tears, in a panic that she was having a miscarriage. This was COMPLETE news to me, as I didn't even know that she thought she was pregnant. I pressed her for more information on the phone; Was she bleeding? (Yes.) How much? (Substantially.) Has she told Bob, her boyfriend? (No.) Why not? (He doesn't know she's pregnant.) How far along did she think she was? (Maybe 4 months.)

Ok. Well, I explain to her that she NEEDS to get to the hospital IMMEDIATELY, before she looses too much blood. (She can't drive, by the way...) She explains that she doesn't want to involve Bob. Alright. Fine. I will drag my HUGE pregnant ass, all the way across town to tend to my mom. So, I tell her I am on my way.

As I am taking my 25 minute drive to her house, I am TRYING to mentally prepare for what I will be walking in to...not truly knowing what will happen once I get there. I've had my share of medical run-ins, and consider myself pretty educated when it comes to medical issues. Taken some classes on psychology, CPR, had two kids of my OWN, for God's sake. I can handle this.

I get there, as quickly as I could have. Bob greets me at the door, not knowing that I was on my way. I explained to him that mom had called me. (He was under the understanding that she had food poisoning from the night before at Red Lobster...thought nothing more about it.) He said that since I was going to be there with mom, he was going to run down to Napa and get some car parts, as he was working to fix their Volvo. No problem, I said...I'm here to be with mom.

WRONG THING TO SAY!! WHERE were the red flags when I needed them???


I head upstairs to the master bedroom/bathroom where mom is. I find her in a robe, bouncing back and forth from the bathroom, to sitting on the edge of the bed and talking to me. Upon talking to her for a bit, I find that she thinks she is about 4-5 months along (LIE!) and that she's been sick for hours. Every time she gets up to use the bathroom, I hear her grunt, and I fear that she is trying to pass the baby...meaning I REALLY need to get her to the hospital, ASAP.

I explain to mom that we need to get he to the hospital right away, as I don't think I can help her, because it appears that she is trying to pass the fetus. She's just not going for my idea at all. I explain that if I can't take her, then I will need to call 911 to transport her.

Little did I know, I would be doing that, anyways....

She heads back to the bathroom. No. She RUNS to the bathroom, and closes the door. I sit and wait on the edge of the bed, wondering what to do next.

And then I hear it.

The sound that forever changed my life.




The sound of a newborn baby crying.



I JUMP up from the bed and kick in the bathroom door. I see my naked mom lifting off of the toilet, white as a sheet, asking me, "What's going on?"

I never knew I was REALLY good at emergency situations...until now.


I reached over and sat my mother on the trash can, and in doing so, I watch a baby fall from her....into the toilet bowl. I scoop up this baby, perfectly pink, and grab a towel and wrap it up. I see the phone on the bathroom counter and immediately dial 911. My mother, still perched on the trash can, continues to ask me, "What's going on?" (Duh. You just had a baby, mom.) But, I have something else that's keeping my attention.

The 911 dispatcher picks up, and I explain to her that my mother just had a baby. I try to explain that I am very largely pregnant myself, and that we need help...FAST! I go on to explain that the baby appears to be FULL TERM. Unfortunately, it does not appear that the dispatcher knows what that means, as she keeps asking me over and over how far along the baby appeared to be. ***sigh*** After establishing that the baby had 10 fingers, and 10 toes....was a GIRL (I shouted at the dispatcher, "I HAVE A SISTER!!")...and that she appeared to be healthy.....the dispatcher asks me, "Is she breathing?"

Everything was fine and dandy until she had to ask that question. At that moment, I look down at the baby, and she had IMMEDIATELY turned a purple/blue color. I told that to the dispatcher. She begins to walk me through infant CPR (which I was not taught). I begin "working" on the baby, and my mother begins screaming at me, "What are you doing?! Don't! Don't do it!!" I continue to administer CPR until the baby cries and begins to breathe again.

At this point, I hear a pounding on the front door downstairs. I tell the dispatcher on the phone that someone is here at the house. She explains it is the fire crew. I holler at them to come in...but, it seems that Bob locked the door behind him. I continue to yell at them to come in, knowing full well that my mom could NOT be left alone with this baby. By the third time that I yell, they begin kicking in the door.

They manage their way upstairs, and get mom and baby on a gurney, and descend downstairs. By this time, the ambulance had arrived, and they were placed inside the back of it. Mom is begging me to go with her to the hospital, but I try to explain to her that the door is busted in, there's blood all over the upstairs bathroom, and what would Bob do or think when he got home and no one was here? She agreed. The ambulance left, and I stayed behind for what seemed the LONGEST amount of time.


Ok....here's where I HAD to have run mom's phone bill up....

I called Dean first. I ended up being some what hysterical, and reiterating the words HOLY SHIT about every 10 seconds. I was at first, on the line with an acquaintance at Dean's work, trying to explain to her what just happened, while I was waiting for Dean to get off of the phone. He finally came on, and I explained what happened. Not only did he not believe it...he was pretty unimpressed by the whole thing. I was VERY quickly pissed off by his calmness, and KNEW that I needed to talk to someone who would be there for me.

I called my brother. Yet another mistake. Not only was he PISSED, he really didn't want to talk to me, either.

So off the phone I get. I pace around in a figure 8 upstairs, while waiting for Bob to come home. I couldn't believe what must be taking him so long!! I just KNOW that I wore down the carpet in her bedroom that day...


After what seemed like an hour, Bob showed up.

Now, I have to explain to you...Bob was a VERY laid-back guy (we lost him in 2005...another story). He came into the house, and wondered how mom was doing. I told him that the ambulance came and took her to the hospital. He said, "Oh man...I'm so sorry". I then explained to him that I thought he should sit down...which he did. I told him, "I really don't know how to tell you this other than just telling you...so.............mom had a baby while you were gone."

Bob sat there in silence for a moment. Then, he asked me to repeat myself. "Mom had a baby while you were gone."

At this point, Bob stands up and says, "I need to take a shower!", and heads into the downstairs bathroom. I sit on the couch in amazement, kind of wondering if this is all some crazy dream.

He eventually emerges, and asks me to go over...one more time...what happened. I explain the whole thing to him. He says, "We need to go to the hospital!" PERFECT!! This is what we needed to do SEVERAL minutes ago!

Well, we hop in his car and head downtown to the hospital. Before we can even get on the freeway, poor Bob has to pull over to a restroom, as he is sick.

Once back in the car, we head straight for the hospital.

We get there, and mom has been separated from the baby, and is in a VERY large room where she is being examined, asked questions, and "fixed up". Bob rushes to her side, and says, "You didn't have to do this to get me to marry you. Will you marry me?" Of course, mom said yes.

Test after test was performed on Heather Michelle, due to the "conditions" she was born in...and all the while, I got to contact everyone and tell them the news. NOT the easiest job in town.

Local news got ahold of the story, and within 2 weeks, we were front page of the Fresno Bee, and on TV...largely due to a special event that the ambulance company was holding. It was quite surreal...just as Bob told the paper.

I DO need to tell you that mom had remained 143 pounds through her ENTIRE pregnancy. Even helped me MOVE in February, before Heather was born. She shared a bed with Bob, and the baby never seemed to move. You would not have known that she was pregnant. It was quite incredible.


Here I am now, 38 years old, with a sister the age of MY youngest....13. They go to the same school, and there are some kids who know their relationship. It's kinda odd for everyone involved...but, it is what it is.


So....that's my story, an I'm sticking to it.

I got to share this story with everyone at Bob's funeral in October of 2005. I felt honored to have "shot the starting gun" of his fatherhood. And during his all too brief time with us, he was one of the best father's I have ever known. And he was THRILLED to have Heather. He taught her so much before he left us. I miss him dearly.


How blessed we are to have some of his legacy living on in Heather.


How's THAT for an exciting story???



By the way.....for Mother's Day that year, I got her a copy of the 911 call that I had placed. We both have a copy. It's pretty darned cool, if I may say so myself...