14 years ago

I was 16 years old, and 38 weeks pregnant. We lived in the middle of nowhere in Northern Cali, in a tiny place outside of Seiad Valley called Fort Goff. My boyfriend (later husband, later ex-husband) was across the road at my aunt's and he called up, frantic that she had fallen. I ran, belly and all, as fast as I could and basically ended up just staying there until the ambulance came. The ambulance driver asked if I was ok and I joked that I'd probably be in the hospital in labor soon. She ended up going to a nursing home and in October, she died - this was all caused by overdosing on potassium thanks to a doctor in Happy Camp. Who I later found out had been run out of town for killing other people in another state. Lovely.

Anyway, I went to bed that evening and awoke at 1:30 definitely in labor. Michaela was born at 9:50 that morning. The first year was smooth and easy, but then things got rough with her dad being in the Navy, then a brother, then her dad abusing me... it was a long road but she's turned into the best teenager I could hope for. She's a truly talented artist (really, as a graphic designer I'm not just saying that - she's good!), smart and very temperamental. Being a teenager, she does the "hormonal" thing pretty regularly (and her 3 brothers are left going "WTF is wrong with her?!?!") but the rest of the time, she's a great big sister/oldest kid. I love my daughter!