He is **MY** baby, just like anyone elses baby is theirs…

 Yes!!!! He’s **MY** Baby!!

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I called him, “My little Wessy” This picture is from 1991

I called him, “My little Wesley”, “My little Wessy”, “Messy Wessy”, and “boo”.  My sister called him  “goober” for a while.  It fit.  He was a sweet baby…

He started in 1990.  I’d had one child, and she turned five I had decided I must not be having anymore children, so I got rid of all the baby care items I had that didn’t have any sentimental value to them.  I was in the process of collecting, breeding, and loving birds.  I had Cockatiel’s, Parakeet’s, Senegal’s, Lovebirds, and Finches.  Yes, they numbered in the hundreds, but most of them lived outside in a HUGE flight cage.  I was selling birds, mostly parakeets.  I had discovered bird shows, the first I attended was at the South San Francisco Cow Palace.  From that time on, I was just in love with the people I met, and all that I was learning.

I had a husband, now an EX husband.  So, at that time I was Peggy Miller.  I now feel, that at the time, he did not like my growing independence.  After all, I went to South San Francisco without him or our daughter.  Funny thing was, it really was all about the birds!  But he suddenly after building that huge cage for the birds, and staying absolutely silent as I collected the birds– suddenly I was “wasting my maternal energy on birds.”  And that is nearly a direct quote if not.  It was time for me to forget about birds and have another baby.  I was 28, and probably not much smarter than I was at 18. My eyes had not been opened yet, I was basically sleep walking.  Young, dumb, & blonde.  And as a therapist later said, I was ‘compliant, complacent, and ____.”  Basically, I did not agree, and felt he was trying to force me to stay home, but I did as I was told.

All in all, I’d say my pregnancy with Wesley was very easy.  I’ve had four pregnancies in my lifetime.  One ended in miscarriage at around 11 weeks.  Three were live births, two have lived to adulthood, and one is still growing up. 🙂  I do not remember exactly how far along I was now, but it was early in  the pregnancy.  Probably around 11 weeks.  I lost blood, quite a bit.  I didn’t even know I’d felt bad.  But, a neighbor noticed that I looked bad and told him he should get inside and make me lay down.  He did not.  I was vacuuming the floor, a twice daily chore because of all the birds.  When I felt a kind of gushy ooze. It did not compute.  But, within minutes I felt the need to use the lady’s room, and that’s when I realized I’d bled.  I called my mother who advised me to go to the hospital.  We dropped our daughter off at mom’s and away we went.  The prognosis was that I was still pregnant, and they didn’t know why or what happened.  I was told to stay in bed until further notice.  They must have forgotten to make that particular note in the chart, because three months later when my dr. finally realized I was still in bed, he told me to get out of bed.  He said, If I was going to lose the baby nothing was going to stop it. I was glad to be up.

He was my second pregnancy. Approximately seven years after the first. I’ve read where a woman’s body goes back to pre-pregnancy state within four years of giving birth.  Her body forgets she was ever pregnant.  Well, I can tell you that is a myth!  My body sure did remember!  Wesley was so much easier.  I didn’t throw up with every odor in the house, my blood pressure didn’t go sky-high, his birth did not have to be induced.  I spent weeks before he was born in a kind of long, drawn out labor.  The pains were always very bearable, though they most definitely got my attention.  But, they never settled into any kind of perceptible pattern that would send me to the hospital for labor.

One night while ordering pizza, I felt a tiny trickle.  My first baby was induced.  If my water ever broke, I never knew it.  Oblivious, is probably a good word.  I did not believe it could be my water breaking, but it was time for the baby to come.  Again, I called my mother, and she told me to call the doctor.  Thankfully, we had Kaiser insurance (I LOVE YOU, KAISER!!), and I got in to see my doctor right away.  He did an exam, and I was 7 centimeters dilated.  He advised me to go to the hospital. He made it clear there was no need to panic, just stay calm and go.  He even suggested I swing by home take a shower, and maybe pick up my husband.  That is what I did.

Again, big sister was dropped off at Grandma’s and we headed north to Kaiser in Hayward. The labor was very easy compared to my first. It went fast, and was a breeze even! I didn’t need pain medication until the end.  When I finally asked for it, the nurse assured me that I was almost done and there was really no point.  But, I’d reached the point where I really wanted something, so they gave it to me.  Wesley was born within 7 or so hours.

His name was William Wesley Miller.  He was originally named for my father-in-law’s step grand dad, William Wesley Rubia.  The man raised Toney, as his own.  Toney admired him very, very much.  But, I heard a nurse call him, ‘Billy’ and that was all she wrote.  I asked for the birth certificate lady to be paged back to the room, and I had the names switched, he became Wesley William Miller.  I much preferred the name, Wesley, anyway.  I always loved that name!

We came home and life marched on. I was able to breast feed him for as long as I wanted and he needed.  It was a wonderful experience.  I held him while I read to my older child, so that he was read to, too.  I remember looking at those little hands and feet and how perfect they were….everything was perfect with that little boy…everything.

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Wesley loved rocking on his horse.

Keep in mind that I am no different from any other mother in the world.  My children are simply the most beautiful kids in the world.  God could not have done a more perfect job. I just adored, and still do love deeply, my children.  Naturally, this leaves me with a bias.  Take it for what you will.

Wesley’s babyhood seems very normal to me.  I did not notice any problems in the infant months.  His older sister was allergic to milk, and had to be put on a soy based formula.  There were no such issues for Wesley.  Except, at 9 months he developed a hernia near the groin, and he had to have a surgery to correct it.  I’ve often wondered if the anesthesia had anything to do with his bi polar.

All in all, his babyhood was quite normal, however, turmoil  started early in his little life.  He was born January 5, 1991.  His big sister “told” on January 11, 1991.  The secret was out, my step-father was a pedophile. To make an incredibly long story very, very short-the man was shortly afterwards jailed, after that is, talks to detectives, and a physical exam.  And after a great many tears, because mother could not quite wrap her mind around what was being said and what had been done. And the information just dribbled out over months, as my daughter felt more and more comfortable within her safety zone.

How much attention does one little boy get when the big sister has such news to tell.
There are doctors, therapists, lawyers, detectives, district attorneys, court rooms, and judges all waiting for the little boys mommy to say what there was to say, and do what she had to do.  From the get go, this lovely little boy was robbed.

His sister was well into therapy and nearly ending her run (Victim Witness program paid for the therapy and we had to quit when the money ran out) when Wesley had started to walk about.  He loved exploring everywhere…he put his hands on everything.  He has always been my little scientist.  I recall distinctly, having so much trouble keeping him within the boundaries at the therapy office as we waited for big sister.  He was everywhere, at times I called him my little tornado!  Therapists warned me if I didn’t get a handle on him NOW, I was going to have a lot of trouble later.  But you know, even in those very early years, Wesley was not very good at listening.  I treated him as I had my daughter, and until my step father got hold of her, she was a dream child. HA! She’d only colored on the walls once.  Spanking was legal in Ohio!