My third grade...

We were living in a quite country house on a couple of acres. When I was 8 and in the third grade, my life started its dramatic change. One fine Saturday morning, while cartoons were on the television, my sister and I were having a competition on who could jump the furthest by swinging in between two couches. I decided to put my ALL into the jump. I landed hard on my neck. I got up and told my siblings who were all staring at me with gaping mouths that I was alright. All of a sudden, the pain sunk in. I started screaming and had to hold my head up with my hands. I was making my way to my dad, when my little sister came running by my yelling "Erica broke her neck! Erica broke her neck!!!" My dad came tearing out of his bedroom. He instantly laid me on the floor and made sure I knew not to move. He then lifted my legs and covered me with a blanket. He called the local hospital to dispatch an ambulance because he thought his daughter broke her neck. When the paramedics arrived, I had gone through shock and just severe pain remained. They asked me to move my arm.. so I moved my left arm-the one not in pain. They laughed at me and told me to move the other one. I looked them straight in the face and said, "No!" They told my incredibly worried father that they believed it was only a clavicle break. They took me by ambulance 30 minutes into Duluth, MN to the main hospital where my doctor was waiting for me. The x-ray technician made me sit up to put the film under my right shoulder. I cried out in pain as I had to lay on that stupid, cold, hard film. THEN they made me sit back up after the x-ray was taken. The doctor came in and stated that my right collar bone was completely broken and that I was lucky the bone had not poked through my skin. They sent me home with just a brace that I was to wear for a very long time and instructed me that if I did not maintain proper posture, my bone would be completely crooked. When I walked from the car into my house, I felt like I had to watch where my feet went otherwise I was sure to fall and break the other collar bone. My older brother made fun of my relentlessly until I had to pretend to not look down while I was around him. That year in school, I had the meanest, most strict, most evil teacher ever. We ALL had one of those teachers at some point in time in which everyone knew they were the worst, and there was no way to avoid them. So when I returned after taking a couple of days, that specific teacher was standing in the doorway... just waiting for me. Amazingly, she smiled. I had someone help me out of my jacket and put my things in my desk. Later that week, when my jacket had fallen onto the ground, instead of her usual punishment, she had someone else go and hang it up again for me. She was actually a sort of decent person to me. To everyone else, she was the devil. A month or so later, I had gotten used to not having to look at my feet in order to walk so I had ran an errand to the office for my teacher. As I was making my way up the stairs, I slipped on some melted snow at the very top and went tumbling all the way down. I let out an ear piercing scream of pain. In 2 seconds flat, I had every adult on that floor running to my aid. There were 4 teachers and the librarian all there to pick me up, get an ice pack, and grab some tissues for my tears. After that little incident, I found it best to watch exactly where my feet were going to be stepping, regardless of how much I was made fun of. Being made fun of was a lot better than the physical pain. The rest of that year was fairly decent. I was the typical 8 year old.. chewing my pencils until they were just wood-chips; spreading elmer's glue on my hands and waiting for it to dry so I can peal it off to see my hand print; and trying to get away with as much mischief as I could, especially seeing as I was the special student of the year :D

That is, until 4th grade came... Things went for a straight dive down.

Bigger

After I was born, we were living in Lincoln Park in Duluth, MN. We had this beautiful house that had natural wood work. My oldest brother would "hang" me from the header on the doorway between our dining room and living room. I was about 9 months old and I would just hang on as tight as I could. When I was able to move around on my own, I would just do what I wanted. One day, as my mom and brother were outside doing yard work, I decided I needed to go inside. My mom looked frantically around the house for me. Right before she was going to call the police to report me missing, she decided to check my bedroom again. She decided to move my bed out from the wall and that is where she found me. I was curled up against the wall and had put myself down for a nap. My brother and I would always put our toys into the wooden banister caps and they would always magically reappear the next day. Our mom would dig them out after we had gone to bed every night. We moved out onto the Indian Reservation out in Cloquet, MN when I was still very young. We then got two HUGE dogs. They were later shot; Thunder had lower double digit shot wounds and Lightening had close to 15 gun shots. They both lived, but my mother was so terrified that we would be next. So while she was 8 months pregnant with my baby brother, we all moved to a different area on the Rez. Right next door to us, there was a fantastic family. The youngest was a little girl my exact age. We became very best friends and even wore a path in the woods between our houses. My whole family called me Beaner because I was just so little, but I would cry and whine that I hated that name and I wanted to be called by my real name. I also was able to figure out a way to control myself while being tickled. But instead of having no reaction, I would tell the instigator that I was going to scream. When they would come closer, but not touching me, I would let out one of those blood-curdling, ear-piercing screams that makes you want to dig your head into the sand. After a few years of living on the reservation, we found a huge house for our huge family just north of Cloquet. There were my dad, my mom, my older brother (but not my oldest), me, my little sister, and my baby brother. My other siblings at that time were my oldest sister, my oldest brother, another sister we didn't know about yet, and another sister who's step-dad wouldn't allow us contact with her.

My birth

Okay, so my birth doesn't sound too terribly exciting, does it? Well, I guess it's the best place to start. So my mom already had a 18 month old baby and was 5 months pregnant with me when my father finally married her. The very next day she was unable to fit into her dress. So a few months later, after many hours of horrible back labor on my mother's part, I came into this world... purple and not breathing. I was just a little peanut weighing in at only 5 pounds and 15 ounces. My head was certifiably cone-shaped and my umbilical cord was wrapped nicely around my neck. After the doctor was able to cut the cord from my almost lifeless body, I started to come around and pink up. It was smooth sailing after that.. until....