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CHAPTER 1

In 1955, in Holmes County, Ohio, Levi and Amanda Yoder, along with their five children, were enjoying their beautiful little 40-acre farm they had bought the year before. At this time, things could not have been better, financially or emotionally.

That fall, in September, Amanda, my mother, gave birth to a beautiful little baby girl. The pregnancy had gone so well that she decided to give birth at home with an Amish midwife. At this point in time, my parents were very happy and content, however, soon it would all change.

In January of 1956, my mother became pregnant for the sixth time. This pregnancy appeared normal at first, but, she soon discovered that this pregnancy was different than the previous five. She noticed more weight gain than usual and more movement in her womb.

Mother, a very petite woman, was somewhat concerned about this pregnancy. On October 12,1956, she went into labor with no idea of what lay ahead. Levi, her husband and my father, was very worried. Immediately, he hitched up the horse to the buggy and went to ask the Amish midwife to come over to deliver their sixth child.

The midwife arrived that evening somewhere around eight o'clock. My mother tried time and again to deliver her sixth child that night. Shortly after lunch she started a very difficult labor. Amanda and her baby were barely hanging onto life. Frantically, my dad ran to an English neighbors house, knowing they had a telephone. For once, glad of such modern conveniences, as soon as he arrived at the door, he yelled, "Call the emergency squad I am about to lose my wife and unborn child." Within twenty minutes the emergency squad had arrived and were transporting mother to Orriville Hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital in Wayne County, which was less than a thirty-mile drive, my father thought my mother had died. They were rushed inside. My mother was still alive, but the heartbeat was so light the paramedics had failed to detect it. The Doctors knew right away they had to get my mother and baby stabilized, and then do an emergency cesarean section.

Unfortunately, that was strictly against the Swartzentruber Amish religion. They believed that if a woman had difficulty giving birth in a natural way, and, if, it caused the death of the woman and or the child, it truly must be a calling from God. Cesarean sections were just not acceptable. Dad was so emotional at that time, he did not recall whether he gave the okay to do the cesarean section or not. He knew full well that he would get punished in church for saving his wife and unborn child. He was torn between his religion and his desire to save his wife and child. The Doctor who performed the cesarean section clearly stated, "Mr. Yoder, you gave us the okay."

At 7:20 P.M., on October 13,1956, a cesarean section was successfully performed. I, David Yoder, was born. I appeared to be as healthy as could be expected, considering that I had to fight for my life even before I was born. Both my mother and I were in critical condition and the doctors thought it would be best if I stayed in the hospital for seventy-two hours due to the ordeal I had just gone through. My mother, however, wasn't so lucky. Over the next ten days it was touch and go for her. Within seventy-two hours I had bounced back like a rubber ball.

Meanwhile, at home, the midwife was staying with their five children until either of them or someone else from the Amish community arrived to relieve her.
With my mother still to ill to leave the hospital, I was sent to my dad's married sister, Sara, who lived in West Lebanon, Ohio, who offered to care for me temporarily. My father regretted this, but he had all he could handle visiting my mother in the hospital and taking care of the five children at home.

By the end of October, my mother was well enough to be sent home with orders to stay in bed. By the beginning of November, the incisions from the cesarean section had become infected. So infected, in fact, that, to use my father's words, "the cuts had little worms all over them." I asked my father why he let it go so long before he took my mother back to the hospital. He said, "Well, son, we're Amish and we can't afford those type of hospital bills." Dad admitted that he had done wrong to allow the cesarean section to take place. My Dad had already received extensive visits by the preacher on this issue. The preachers told dad that, apparently, it was not God's will that his wife or son should live, and that he must confess. That was the reason my Dad let his wife's infection get to the point that it did. At the beginning of November my Mom was, again, rushed, by the emergency squad, to Orriville Hospital. She was immediately placed in Intensive care, barely hanging onto life.

Ten days later my Mom had made considerable improvement. Again, she was sent home with her orders to stay in bed. At the end of November, my Mom took a turn for the worse. She was sent back to the hospital. At this time she wasn't in the hospital very long before she started recovering, and was sent home, however, not before the Doctors had a talk with both of my parents. The Doctor said to my father, "Mr. Yoder, you must be more careful and you should not get your wife pregnant in the near future. Furthermore, we advise you to tie your wife's tubes and make this your last child." My Father replied, "We cannot do that, because it is against our religion." The Doctor replied, "Mr. Yoder the next time your wife will not survive childbirth." "That will be the Lord's will," my father said. I always wondered what my Mom felt like at that time or if she voiced any feelings at all. After my Mom was released from the hospital, she spent a several more weeks in bed. By the beginning of December, she started doing light housework, such as helping a little bit with the cooking of meals. One of the Amish church members had agreed that their oldest teenage daughter could come over and help until my Mom got better. December of 1956 was the month my parents were forced to confess the cesarean section.

This was one confession, one punishment that my Dad said he did not mind doing at all. His wife was alive and so was his son. My Dad told me that this issue had the Amish community somewhat divided. There were those that could not believe my Father would stoop to the level of intercepting God's will, and others that believed my father had done the right thing. Dad wanted to be a true Amish Christian and do what was right. For that reason, he decided he and my mother should try for their seventh child. Mom was not well enough to have her newest son home; yet, she soon became pregnant with her seventh child. I got to spend my first Christmas at my Aunt Sarah's house. I've been told they were spoiling me rotten. My Aunt Sarah was about nine years older than my Father. Sarah had already given birth to her youngest child who was four years old. Somewhere between February and March of 1957, my Mom had made such a good recovery that she was ready to have me, her son David, at home. It was difficult for my Aunt Sarah and her family to lose the youngest addition. When I arrived home, I did not recognize my family. When my Aunt Sarah handed me to my mother, mother was full of joy to hold me for the first time. She tried to get me to smile, but all I would do was cry. I would smile for Aunt Sarah how ever. This devastated my mother, and it wasn't an easy moment for my Aunt Sarah either, as she said good-bye.

My parents kept me for almost to two weeks. I cried most of the time. It appeared that my Mom could not do anything right for me. The food she gave me did not agree with me. My older brothers and sisters tried to hold me, but nothing worked. My Mom was hoping I could stay at home, but it was not meant to be. Less than two weeks after I came home, my mother began to have major problems with her pregnancy. My Aunt Sarah was notified and asked if she was willing to give me a home again. She replied, "Yes, indeed I would love to." Sarah had her own family, but one more didn't matter to her. Aunt Sarah personally hitched up her horse and buggy and drove fourteen miles to pick me up. Aunt Sarah said when she brought me home I looked around the room staring at everybody as if I recognized them. At birth, I never made a lasting bond with either of my parents. The bond I had made was with my Aunt Sarah and her family. My Mom tried a couple more times to get me home that summer, however, both times were very short lived. It was devastating for my Mom, and her emotional trauma was compounded by her medical condition. She was in and out of the hospital all summer long. By the week of October the 15th, 1957, my Mom was near death, and was, once again, rushed to the hospital. It was time to give birth to her seventh and final child. No one thought she would survive the ordeal.

On October 15th, 1957, my Mom gave birth to a baby girl who only weighed 4 lbs. 5 oz. Dad decided to name the girl Amanda, after his wife because the Doctors didn't expect either of them to survive. The Doctor took my Dad aside and said, "Mr. Yoder, you must stop having children. It's killing your wife." Dad's started crying and said, "I love my wife, and I don't want to lose her, what do you suggest I should do?" The doctor replied, "You must give us the okay to tie your wife's tubes. This would save her life." Once again, Dad was torn between religion and his marriage. Dad chose his wife's life over his religion. The Doctor thanked him, saying, "Mr. Yoder, you'll never be sorry for this decision." My Dad just hoped it was the right thing to do, as he knew full well that once the Amish Bishops and Preachers found out he would be excommunicated for a short time for his actions. After my Dad gave the okay, my Mother's tubes were tied immediately.

For the next two weeks my mom was in intensive care. The third week she was allowed to go home and given orders to stay off her feet. Her newborn baby was not as lucky and was placed in an incubator for four weeks. It was very difficult for my mom to go home without her baby girl. Realizing that I, David, was still at my aunt's home and her newest child would stay at the hospital, my mom felt inadequate. She blamed herself; she had failed as an Amish wife.

By the middle of November, Amanda, my baby sister was taken out of intensive care and spent two more weeks in the hospital before she was released, at the end of November.

My mom was not recovering like she should have. She was still having complications and for the next ten months she was in and out of the hospital. During this time there were no attempts to bring me back into the family.
My dad was excommunicated later that fall for allowing his wife's tubes to be tied. At that time, my mom was not stable enough to be punished in church. In fact, she could not even attend church.

In the summer of 1958, while the Amish preachers were trying to force my father into having my mother’s tubes untied, mom was admitted into the hospital again. This time, the doctors felt they did not have any other choice but to give mom a hysterectomy. Her childbearing days were over.

This was mom's last physical obstacle to over come, and her final time in the hospital. For the first time in two years, she was doing well, physically. But, mentally, she was having problems. She worried about her sex life, whether she would be able to please her husband. She no longer had an interest in sex. She knew she was no longer the girl my father had married.

The fall of 1958, mom had a mental breakdown. At one point, she would crawl on the floor on her hands and knees and bark. Soon, she did not speak at all.

The Amish Bishops and Preachers were brought in; over the next few months they took control of our family. They stayed until they thought the situation was stable. Mom made a major recovery, and dad had settled down as well.

After mom had completely recovered, she was excommunicated for allowing her tubes to be tied, and, also, for her mental breakdown.

This meant she was severely shunned for the next six to eight weeks.

Punishment of this sort often depended upon whether the offender was able to convince the Preachers they were truly sorry for their sins.

During the time that mom was excommunicated she was not allowed to eat at the same table as her family. Nor, could there be any sexual intercourse. Once the Preachers thought the time was right, an offender could be taken back as a member, and all their sins would be forgiven and forgotten. No one in the Amish church is to ever to speak about what has happened in the past. If someone refused to drop a particular subject, he could expect a visit from the Preacher and/or some form of punishment. If all else failed, the person whom was spreading gossip would find himself excommunicated until he promised to drop the subject and apologize to the individual he was gossiping about. In a sense, this worked to mom's advantage. Dad was not allowed to bring this up any time they had a disagreement.

By the end of February of 1959, my Mother was well enough to let me come home. This was a proud moment for both of my parents. My older brothers and sisters were so happy to see the brother they barely knew. Less than two weeks after I came home, I came down with pneumonia. I was rushed to the hospital. My recovery was fast and I was returned home again.

Mom said I was a little slow at the beginning. I looked at them as strangers and cried a lot. After my pneumonia, I finally made a connection with my birth mother. I was already two and a half years old, walking and no longer wearing my little Amish dress. I was learning to speak when my family finally got to know me. Mom's health was exceptionally good that spring. Her mental condition was stable and she tried to make up for lost time.

That spring, my parents realized that their forty-acre farm just was not big enough and bought another farm near Apple Creek, Ohio. They said I threw a fit when they tore down my baby bed to move. Strange as it may seem, I remember that move. I cannot explain it but for some reason I was always drawn to that forty-acre farm in Holmes County, Ohio. I don't think we actually moved because the farm was too small, (although a forty-acre farm is rather small for an Amish family). I'm convinced the real reason we moved was due to the two years of turmoil.

My parents wanted to have a new start and put the past behind them. The farm we bought was a larger farm located near Apple Creek, Ohio. It was approximately a 100-acre farm at a beautiful location, but this too would be short lived. In the year of 1960, many Amish families were looking to move to Tennessee near Lawrenceburg to start a new settlement. The Amish settlement in Wayne and Holmes County, Ohio was growing rapidly. A lot of Amish near my parents age thought it was getting out of hand and did not want to raise their children near such a large community. The Amish families who had started the Tennessee settlement in the early fifties were very strict. In fact, my Mother's oldest sister and her family were one of the first families to move to Tennessee.
I will never understand why we did not just move to Tennessee from Holmes County, Ohio to begin with, since we only lived there for about a year and a half. My parents were able to sell the Holmes County farm for a small profit, and they bought the other farm at a good price. We moved to this farm in early spring of 1959. However, we would move off it in the fall of 1960, my parents having managed to sell the farm for a small profit.