Monday, April 12, 2010


I am going to bring you stories of our immediate family. We have three children, one of which switched from loving God to becoming a lost soul. It hurts for a mother to see this happen but realizes it hurts our Savior more. One who has turned his back from right and doing wrong without a repentant heart is truly lost.

As I mentioned before I was the youngest and the first to give my dad his first grandchild that was given his name and C’ name that I will refer to as CT. As best as I can figure my dad was in his late 60’. He was truly a proud grandfather that was sort of afraid to hold him but it didn’t take long to get over that. CT had colic and cried quite a bit. The mid wife nurse that had the nursing home next door called me over and said leave the baby there and go home and get some sleep. She could hear all his crying and couldn’t stand it.

She switched my son from breast milk to a bottle using canned milk because he was hungry all the time. She said all my nursing was of no help because my milk was not nutritious enough. I was blessed to have her next door to tell me the things I needed to know about the baby. Not having a mom to tell me these things had me handicapped.

I had to learn many things by trial and error and I am sure I looked haggard from loss of sleep. Being just 20 years old allowed me to bounce back, and it’s a good thing because 11 months later our daughter KL arrived. Then three years after that 2nd daughter KA arrived with complications for me. In the last month of my pregnancy they discovered diabetics and was put in the hospital until delivery.

My 2nd sister took care of the kids for a month while I was in the hospital with a new baby learning how to give myself insulin injections. Back then they did not have the long lasting refined insulin as they do now and I had a rough time trying to get a good level from high to low. My oldest sister having it was not a very good example because she did not follow the rules and had many low blood sugar incidents. But then on the other hand my father developed diabetics and was a much better example. I need to tell you some of what I learned from my dad was: I was in charge of what I ate and drank and no one else. This disease will never, never go away so I had better learn to live with it.

I have lived with this for 56 years and while in the hospital last September with this hip replacement they were over medicating me with insulin and after listening to me complain and refusing injections the doctor threw up his hand and told the medication nurse to let me treat myself on when and how much insulin I would take. And before I was released from the hospital some of the nurses told me the doctor was impressed at how I was doing with my method. When diagnosed I was almost 24 years old and weighed about 122 pounds and in all those years I had stayed under 145 pounds. The nurses in the hospital encouraged me to write a book and I said no way each patient has to learn their own body and how it responds to their way of eating, living and exercise. The only thing I can tell a diabetic is stay regimented eating three meals a day and approximately the same time. If I miss a meal or eating late, believe me I am in trouble. I really miss C who just had to look at me and would say go eat something or just give me

a glass of orange juice and make me drink it because he use to tell me I sure could argue when my sugar was too low. Living by myself is scary sometimes. Lord does alert me especially in the middle of the night He will wake me and instills a thought in me to get up and check my blood and sure enough I need to eat. God is so good to me.

My girls worry about me being by myself since I moved down here in the country in Arkansas. I tell them I am not alone my Lord is with me all the time. My DIL calls me every morning to make sure I am awake and stops in the evening after work. I am so blessed having her and her dogs Chili and Scout that she wants me here.

I had dabbled in oil painting many years ago because C encouraged me to find a hobby. This is my first picture after a few lessons at the art center. I learned how to knit and made a turtleneck sweater without a pattern my waitress taught me, for my first project. I think my daughter still has it. It was red and white and I thought it looked nice. But that just wasn’t my thing.

Then I tried collecting Postage Stamps. I bought three very old stamp books albums from a girl that worked in the insurance office where I was the mangers’ secretary. She had received them from a family member and didn’t want them. The albums contained quite a few of early American U.S. stamps in them. After reading and learning more about saving stamps I found out the stamps I had in the albums I purchased for next to nothing were worth some money. The American Philatelic Foundation that offers quite a bit of free information about stamp collecting. I was fascinated and bought everything I needed. At one time I was offered several hundred dollars for one of the albums and refused.
Our daughters’ husband was in the U.S. Army and stationed in Germany. They were expecting their first child and invited us to come and stay with them. We were retired and it sounded great because it was opened ended. We could stay as long as they wanted us to. C wanted to go because he felt his ancestors were part German. C being retired from the military made it easy for us to travel at a reduced fare.

We packed up all our belongings and put them in a commercial storage facility. We packed a large trunk for shipping and a large suitcase with clothes for each of us to use while traveling until the trunks arrived at our destination.

They informed us to bring winter clothing because even their summers are not as warm as we were use to and would probably wear them year round. Fortunately we still had our winter coats, C a leather sheepskin and I had my sheared beaver and it’s a thing because it really was cold in Germany. The only thing we had to buy, were warm boots.

I see I am nearing the end and have so much more to say about our living in Germany for a while that I better wait until next time. Until then I am Immigrant Daughter.

1 comment:

  1. Immigrant Daughter, I was in the same shoes as you with the colic and no Mother. I know the hard journey, the stumbling to get through it and the strength to keep going. How could such a little pair of lungs make that much noise!! Some how we get by and grow strong. Great journey, what will adventure will Germany hold for us. Kind regards, Anita.