A Memorable February

Today was a memorable day for me back in 1968. I lived in an apartment over Wilcox Drug Company in Boone, attending Appalachian State at the time.

Three days before, a Boone blizzard had struck and the area reeled in a white out. With the wind gusting and whistling like a bullet train, wind chills dipped well below zero, and I began having labor pains.

Our 1960 Ford Galaxy wouldn't start in the frigid temperatures (we later learned to buy a battery warmer), and none of our neighbors had a car that would start either. Getting desperate, my husband walked up to King Street to see if he could find a taxi, but the town had pretty much shut down. He came back in a police car.

All the way to the hospital, the policeman talked about the babies he'd delivered in his police car when he'd worked in Florida. If he meant to reassure me, he didn't. All the way, I seethed thinking, "Mister, you're not going to deliver this baby in your car."

As it turned out, I was right. After 72-hours of labor, a 10-pound, 7 ounce, 23-inch boy came into the world. Because of the long labor, he had developed fluid on the respiratory part of his brain, and doctors gave me a 50-50 chance of him living. He completely filled up the incubator designed for smaller newborns, but he survived with no complications. I'm so proud of the man he's become. Happy birthday Jay!

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