We had been trying to conceive for over a year. I had been on Clomid and was constantly taking home pregnancy tests that were always negative. I started seeing a fertility specialist - his strategy was the pill for three months, Clomid again and see what happens. I started taking the pill and became deathly ill. I stopped taking it and went to a gastroenterologist as I thought I was having stomach problems. (He insisted that I needed a pregnancy test. I told him I had taken six EPT's - there was no way I could be.) The next week I began having terrible breast tenderness. I was waiting for a period and was only bleeding every Sunday. I called Dr. Peskin, went in to see him and he told me I was pregnant (before I had the test). I told him he was out of his mind. (What woman in her right mind wouldn't know she was pregnant?!?) I took the test and sure enough, he was right. When the nurse gave me the results I started sobbing (tears of happiness)… I was immediately sent for an ultrasound (which I thought was ridiculous because I knew I wasn't pregnant and they had mixed up my urine specimen with someone else's). After drinking 40 ounces of water I saw my baby and found out I was twelve weeks pregnant!!! The pregnancy was problematic - violent morning (all day) sickness, constant bleeding and a lot of bedrest. I had gestational diabetes and slight hypertension. I knew I was having a boy because no girl would ever do this to her mother. The story continues…
On November 14, 1995 at 12:30 am, we made the trek to University MacDonald Womens Hospital for the long awaited arrival of our first child. Yes, she was eleven days late, and no I was not looking forward to being induced, but I wanted this "thing" out of me!! After being given a lovely hospital gown that did not close in all the right places, the resident from hell arrived to administer prostaglandin gel. This was one painful experience. Not only have the residents not perfected their bedside manner, but they also have not perfected their ability to administer painless internal exams!! The next step was a nurse with four attempts to insert an IV, as I was to receive pitocin at 7:30 am. I looked and felt like a pin cushion. After everyone was done poking and prodding, they told us to sleep well. Like we could really sleep (especially my poor husband - they gave him this "sleep chair" which looked more like a medieval torture device)…
It seemed like an eternity before 7:30 am arrived. For the second time a resident placed more prostaglandin gel in my cervix (this one was a little less painful) and the pitocin was administered. All I had to do was sit back and wait…and wait…and wait. My contractions stopped at 1:30 pm after I had gone to the bathroom. Lucky me!! My doctor (who has an office at the hospital) came in four times to see me and at 5:30 pm gave me two choices: go out to dinner and come back later to try the whole procedure all over again, or have a C-section. (At this point I didn't care about giving birth. All I wanted was some chocolate cake and a Dr. Pepper. Popsicles and ice chips only go so far). I would have preferred not waiting another day, but in Dr. Peskin's opinion it was better to try it again tomorrow although he had his doubts the baby would fit. (I thought I was going to give birth to Baby Huey)! It was certainly great to be out of bed and walking around after 17 hours of lying on my side since you MUST stay in bed hooked to monitors while being induced.
At 9:00 pm on November 14th (the day my stubborn daughter should have been born) the procedure with the gel started again. Another resident had the honor and again, I was in pain. Barry (my OB) had ordered this procedure to be done four times between 9:00 pm and 7:30 am. At 1:30 am the resident from hell arrived again. Since I was already in severe pain and bleeding from the 9:00 pm procedure I refused the treatment. (This meant she had to call the doctor on call - which was my OB's twin brother - and complain that I was being stubborn. He relented and said 3:30 am would be fine). Although I had refused the gel she insisted on doing an internal exam. Oh joy, oh rapture!! She couldn't find my cervix. Now call me stupid, but I was sure it hadn't gone anywhere, but what did I know?? At 3:30 am a midwife (no residents were available - thank God!!) arrived for the procedure - it was absolutely painless. I believe this says something for medical professionals (at least in OB/GYN) that are trained outside of the United States (my OB was trained in South Africa) because they seem to be more gentle and aware of pain. The fun continues…
At 7:30 am on the nose the pitocin was started for the second day in a row. At 11:00 am I began having contractions. I had to go to the bathroom something fierce (must have been those twelve popsicles), but was afraid to go. I didn't want to stop the progress. The day wore on and the pain was beginning to take it's toll, but I was bound and determined not to have an epidural (my childbirth instructor had scared me out of it), but hot packs and pressure on my back were no longer helping. Labor progressed and at 3:30 pm my water broke. At first I thought I had wet the bed and I started crying because I was embarrassed (29 and wetting the bed - what would my friends think?). But when the nurse let me get up to go to the bathroom and I gushed all over the floor I was happy as a lark!! Barry arrived around 4:00 pm and upon examination said I was dilated 6 centimeters. He inserted an internal monitor for the baby and asked me if I wanted an epidural. Like a crazed woman I jumped at the chance for drugs. By 4:30 pm my epidural had been administered (by an anesthesiologist who just happens to be my OB's wife) and I was in quite a euphoric state.
At 5:00 pm Barry stopped by to see if he was going home for dinner or spending a fun-filled evening of pushing and screaming in my room. I won - instead of dinner with the wife and kids we were having a baby!! I couldn't believe it. I looked at my husband and said "We're having a baby!!" (I'm sure this was quite a shock to him - NOT!!) I started pushing at 5:20 pm. Everyone was telling me what a great job I was doing but I had no idea - the epidural took care of that, I couldn't feel a thing. At 6:00 pm Barry informed us that the baby's heart rate was not "bouncing back" as quickly as it should after the contractions - he thought the cord was prolapsed. I went hysterical and started screaming "It's caught around her neck and she's going to die!!" He gave my husband a very strange look and then tried to calm me by telling us that it was caught under her arm. What - did he have x-ray vision?
We started pushing fast and furious, but she wasn't coming quickly enough for him. He used a hand pumped vacuum extractor to help me along, and sure enough - I was right. The cord was wrapped tightly around her neck and I had to stop pushing in order not to strangle her. Unfortunately, my because of the tightness of the cord my husband was unable to cut it. Barry called a pediatric "code red" (whatever that is) and about twenty people showed up in my room. I didn't even get a chance to see or hold her before she was whisked away to the other side of the room to be suctioned and have oxygen administered. But before she was handed off to the pediatrician she made her mark on the world - or rather Barry. She had her first bowel movement on his shoes (if you knew her now it really fits her personality - she's quite feisty). She wasn't crying and didn't seem to be moving - I started yelling that she was dead. My husband was frantically running across the room - he wanted to be able to comfort me and check the progress of our daughter - poor guy, it had to have been a hellish experience at that moment. When she started screaming and all was well (she scored a 6 on her first APGAR and 9 on her second) I started calling all my friends and family to tell them the good news (this was all happening as Barry was stitching me back together, of course).
After we got home with her, we had a lot of trouble nursing. I saw lactation consultants on a daily basis for a week and we just couldn't get the hang of it. She was constantly screaming and at 3:00 am of the fifth day I decided to give her a bottle of formula. The poor thing ate 12 ounces!! She obviously hadn't eaten for days and was starving. I had no colostrum hence no milk. That's when I decided to solely formula feed. (I later found out through a blood test that I had absolutely no prolactin - I couldn't make milk). Also, she always seemed to be running a low grade fever. I was the pediatrician's nightmare, but my intuition was correct. At five weeks of age, she had to be hospitalized for a fever of 102.8. She was diagnosed with bi-lateral vesico-uretal reflux. It's a condition where her urine backs up into her kidneys. She is on antibiotics daily and we will have to wait and see if she outgrows the condition of if she requires surgery (she has a urine culture every four months and a nuclear cystogram and ultrasound of her kidneys yearly). At the present time she is doing quite well and thriving.
Life with Lauren (or Poos as she is affectionately called) is great and after all the trouble we had with the delivery and the first two months, we can't wait to do it again.