I planned to get this written long before now, but the road to you-know-where is paved with good intentions. But at least I'm writing it now.
Howard and I were both so excited 30 years ago the closer it got to Nick's birthday. Howard was working at the welding shop and helping an old friend, Wade,with his moving company. He had a trip to Provo planned. They were loading and leaving on Sept 15th. Well, this baby just didn't seem to want to be born. I can't remember his exact due date, but know he was late just like the rest. So I said I was going with him. Of course, I didn't tell anybody. But then just as I was getting ready to go teach Primary, I realized that maybe this baby was gonna be born soon, like within the next day. I talked to Brenda and realized the trip with Howard wasn't a good idea.
He drove to Roosevelt to load the moving truck with Wade. The two kids and I were at Mom's. I started having a few contractions, so about 9 pm I called and left Howard a message that maybe he should come back to town after loading. He got to Mom's about 11 pm, and he wanted to go to the hospital. Now this may have been the first he was there for (that's how he put it), but it was my third. So we went home so we could get some sleep although Howard thought I was crazy. I don't remember how much sleep we got, but a little; the contractions were pretty light. At 6 am, we got up and headed to the hospital. Now I wish I could tell you exactly what time Nick was born. I know it was either shortly after 10 am or shortly after noon. It was a pretty neat experience having Howard in the delivery room. He stayed for a few hours and checked out his new son. But then he had to leave to take the moving van.
He drove to Provo, and it was pretty late when he got there. He was going to spend the night at Kimo and Marsha's, and unload in the morning. He didn't want to wake them up, so he slept in the moving van. Marsha was so upset with him when she woke up in the morning and realized what he had done. He unloaded and came straight home. In the meantime I had filled out the birth certificate form. I had to call Mom to make sure how to spell Nicholas. She said that was how she had seen it in books. Howard and I were naming him after Charles Nikolas Young, his great grandfather. And yes, I spelt the name wrong. I always told Howard it was his fault for leaving me at the hospital.
