My Pride and Joy

My Pride and Joy

My brother's birthday is today. Douglas, he is 15 years old and I remember when he was born so clearly like it was yesterday. I have 3 blond-haired, blue-eyed brothers born after I turned 13 years old. Daren was born 3 months before I turned 14, Dougie was born in the fall when I was 16. Davey came into the world just a month after I turned 20 years old. Now, I can recall the day each of them being born in every detail, every conversation and every schedule. I can see the weather, the time and the people who were around at the very moment in announcing after 9 months of waiting anxiously for my new sibling to arrive.

The 9 months leading up to Dougie's arrival were the longest months of my life, I struggled as a 16 year old wanting to get out into the world. Longing to meet new people and see new places. Yet I was always home changing diapers, reading the alphabet books and chopping up food finely for my 2 year old brother, Daren. He was everything beautiful in my world. I didn't ever blame him for growing up on my hip, I just would crying silently while rocking him to sleep at nap time looking out the window to a world so scary and so far away from me. It really didn't help that the country radio station played Reba's popular song “Is there life out there?” every hour at that time. Now my closest friends knew of my struggles through my letters, and in my Sunday prayers with them, I felt like my tears fell from me daily. I had such overwhelming fears realizing I was growing up, but I wanted to just be a silly carefree teenager before my 16^th year was over. I was panicking in my own thoughts, in my own feelings for I didn't want to grow up. Even though my world had already changed. In my sadness, in my self-pity I had to gave up my 16^th year as a teenager, I understood the right thing to do was live like a mother. I delighted proudly over Daren, his cute little legs running down the hall or his giggling when we danced to the “Babe” movie in the living room. At the same time the battles my father had with my sister were growing worse, there was so much stress over mom's scary pregnancy with Dougie. mother lived in bed for the first four months, I fell into a dark place of sadness. I was lacking in love, in conversation and most importantly laughter. I would ask myself when I stole away for a walk around the farm, “What if I let myself fall into that canal drop off? Would I instantly drown in those scary waves? Would I even be missed?” I wondered for the first time in my life that if death was were Heaven was, why am I wasting my time on earth? Wouldn't it be a wonderful escape to see Jesus face to face? I could see myself happy again after I died. Now these are selfish thoughts, I understood this during my struggles with life. I knew if I did actually drown, a 2 year old little boy I called “Dude” would miss me. I loved him more than all the glory of heaven. I knew in my heart and soul I would always be there for him, whose high fives and thumbs up made my life actually worth something. So I had deal with my loneliness, my rejection head on. I often watched the skyline for any sign of God, I whispered “Are you there?” looking up. It was obvious to me, that we were all heading to the future as a new family. Just like a time bomb it was all going to blow up in our faces. I started holding my breath but I took note at that very moment God sent some birds flying over my head after my question. I took it for the promise I desperately needed. I was never really alone. Our home was honestly so strange, when Doug came into it we were the most messed up people, the most unstable of personalities. My sister challenged everyone, she was in her own way dealing with the same situation of stress. But not interested in making a friend in me. We had some horrific fights, Though I have to admit when mom barked orders at me from her confinement, I then would turn on my sister barking orders at her to help me around the house as well. Our mother was so sick, so miserable that she was constantly running to the toilet to throw up over any unfriendly smell, or she was crying out over any bed movement. A few weeks, or months went by where our father slept on the couch. I remember hearing him grumble “It's going to be a long nine months.” as he threw a blanket on the couch when our mother was sobbing from their bedroom. Now Mom never had a good nine months in any pregnancy with the 3 boys, But Dougie was by far the worst ever!

Then one day during the pregnancy of Dougie, when the 3 of us older kids could sense it. The approaching storm, just like a dark cloud over the valley around us. Our father finally snapped. He was sleeping on the couch for a long time. He grew very moody, He came very impatient. We watched him in fear, we avoided crossing paths. If we were lucky like my sister who built a tree house platform for her own place in peace. We all looked for a place to hide. Our dad was about to boil over at any second, I knew time was against us. Yet I was caught off guard the day he exploded. Having just gone into town with friends to roller skated that morning, I came home so happy from being hugged by my best friends, and getting to laugh like the teenager I wanted to be. I walked happily humming to myself on my way to my bedroom when dad appeared in the hallway with his eyes flaming and his nose flared. “Where have you been?!” He demanded. I froze with a candy sucker in my mouth. “See this laundry?! See this kitchen?! It's all disgusting! What have you been doing all morning?!” I tired to move quickly out of his way, but he caught me by my arm and dragged me across the living room to point in to the kitchen of dirty dishes. I was glancing back at my brother and sister, who wasted no time dodging into hiding. “We went roller skating...” I choked in fear. He came unglued. “Oh sure leave your poor sick bedridden mother to suffer while you go roller skating instead! How selfish can you be?? Who was watching Daren?! It's lucky for you he was just coloring on the floor by your mom's bed, for she is napping and she can't care for him! You are so focused on yourself, You should be ashamed! If Daren had gotten hurt it would have been YOUR FAULT!” His screaming words stung me as hot tears fell silently, I held on to a kitchen stool. He was enraged, I was the one who stepped across his path at the wrong time. He continued while kicking up the pile of dirty clothes. “This had all better be cleaned up when I get back!” His slamming of the door shook the whole place, I slid down on to the floor on my knees just letting myself have a really good cry. These battles with my father were really just beginning, I wasn't as strong as my sister who never cried when living in a moment like that. Instead his words ate away at me for days. I began to believe that I am so selfish. That I am so stupid and lazy, I am without a doubt the worse big sister ever. With the lack of a mother, with an angry father, back in those days of waiting for Dougie to be born I had never felt so all alone in the world. God was either out to kill my spirit or teach me something profound.

On the day Dougie was born I saw a glow of my parents bedroom, I was startled by it. I laid there wondering what was going on, I looked at the cutest little sleeping Daren tucked into all my pillows. Every night Daren comes across the hallway to my bed, I never rejected him. I never even said a word to him, he always knew he could slip into my arms safely. I was determined never treat him like I had been treated. I understood from being truly forgotten, right after my big 16^th birthday celebration when My mother put on such a big party for me. It was so wonderful and fun! Then a couple of weeks later, She announced she was with child. My world changed AGAIN. So my shopping date, my ear piercing, my own time with mother was gone. Now I knew what to expect in that second pregnancy. Though I would have never imagined she would get as deathly sick as she did. When Dougie was born, I was so relieved to finally make it through all those long horrid months.

One night I melted down to one of my closest friends during a rare sleep over at her house. She prayed with me, she inspired me to seek God when I was facing such dark thoughts of death, and loneliness. She told me I was the shining light God needed. Through my gift of a clean home, my parents would be able to relax when everything was just as stressful for them. God gave me strength to face the screaming battles in our family. My gifts were being used to help people, though it hadn't seemed like that to me, I felt like I wasn't worth anything! Yet she understood me, she said she wouldn't trade places with me for anything. She just knew I was walking through fire, but would come out looking like a diamond in the end. I felt so refreshed, safe, strong and happy when I left her place the next day, though Dad and Dana had began another battle when I arrived back home. I walked by them like they couldn't touch me nor bring me down. I thought about how God was using me for his Shinning light in a dark world. And I could smile again.

My dad called through my bedroom “Debby, we are heading to the birthing center. Watch Daren.” He was moving quickly, he was right behind my mom when I got up to look down the hallway, she was whimpering while waddling towards to kitchen.

“Good luck.” I replied but I am not sure they heard me. When dad accidentally bumped into her, she squealed. He quickly apologized, I watched in awe at how sweet he really was with her. A few hours later the car lights would bring back a new baby boy at 6am. mom always called each pregnancy “Darcy”. For she believed each boy was going to be a girl.

I would always feel uneasy when she said “Darcy is really hungry.” “Darcy is kicking so hard!” She would also exclaim “LOOK! Darcy's foot print!” Or “Come feel Darcy move.” I would pray long into the nights that Darcy wasn't a girl. The last thing this family could handle was another girl. The pecking order in our Christian family was dad, he who was directed by God to rule the household, His Son next in line to God's kingdom. His wife who bares children for the service of God, and then his daughters (he happened to have 2 of them both rebelling to his authority) But the daughters did all the manual labor for the family. Now I wasn't a fool. I prayed every day during each pregnancy “Dear God please give us a boy, For a girl is the last thing this family needs.” Turns out..... God isn't a fool either!

Now, years later while dinning out with my sister . We began talking family memories again. She was amazed when I told her I had only ever prayed for brothers during those crazy days of all those pregnancies. She exclaimed “Me too! Could you imagine what a horrible sister we could have had? Talk about spoiled rotten! Not to mention she would be the bottom of the totem pole! Though Mom would never even looked at another one of us kids again. Even Derek would have been forgotten! Thank God, we weren't cursed with a girl!” I later reflected on if there was such a thing as the power of prayer?

That night when I waited for Dougie to be born, I sat looking up at the stars from my bedroom window. I prayed for my mom and for her baby to be okay, I cried over all the things I had learned in the last 9 months. I saw true HOPE in welcoming Dougie to our lives. “I once was lost, but now I am found” I whispered to the starry sky.

It was so fast how they returned by 6am, How tiny purple/red this newborn was. Watching Daren wake up with spiky blond hair. He rubbed his eyes while I carried him to see our mom and baby brother on the big bed. “Look Dude, it's our new baby brother Dougie!” Daren had been “The Dude” for the first 5 years of his life. We would high-five him sticking up our thumbs saying “Hey Dude!” He did it too, and it was oh so cute!! I loved that wonder over the new family member. Our Dougie was a new person in Daren's life. When the greeting time was over, we teenagers found our way back to bed. Only to have seconds later our father turn on our bedroom lights commanding us to get up! We were told who was to cook breakfast, who was to clean the house and who was to serve our mother breakfast in bed. Naturally we obeyed, for our father wasn't anyone to mess with. When I would looked down at Douglas sleeping so peacefully, I smiled knowing he was my true joy. For out of THIS very messed up family, he was born to save us all! Daren was my Pride and now Doug was my joy. So as they grew up together we would sing “Sugar Sugar” and dance our way to happiness. I would swing them up into my arms for they made my life truly complete!

They will always be.....MY PRIDE AND JOY.