The first time I got pregnant, I was very young, naive, and unprepared! I had no idea what to expect, but being as I was sixteen and still living with my parents, I really wasn't expected to take something like this so seriously. I was aware of my options (the father bailed not too long after the confirmed pregnancy), but I was determined to have this baby. I knew could go to a teen parent school to get my diploma.
After an easy and predictable six months, my doctor became concerned with my blood pressure. It had gone from a lovely 108/64 to 160/80 in a matter of four weeks, and I had gained nine pounds. I was instantly concerned, because this was a first for me and anything made me scared. My doctor advised me to cut out salt, drink a lot of water, take the prescribed medication, and relax. I didn't listen.
I was so active in my seventh month that I managed to pull the round uterine ligament in my right side. Not only that, but the prescriptions weren't working, my blood pressure was worse, and my doctor wanted me on complete bed rest! I still didn't listen, however, because at sixteen, I was more concerned with being around my friends than paying attention to my own body, which was screaming for me to settle down.
Because of the blood pressure issue, my doctor had me in his office at least once a week after hitting the eight month. A non-stress test, a scary blood-pressure reading, and another ultrasound to determine if my baby’s lungs were developed in case they had to deliver early, and I finally took things seriously, doing nothing more than getting up to use the bathroom. I made it to 38 weeks, and by that time, I was in the doctor's office every two days. Finally, he set an induction date of November 8. I was already dilated to two centimeters and was 80 percent effaced, so I figured it probably wouldn't take much effort.
On the day of the induction, at 6 AM, my doctor started the Pitocin and broke my bag of waters, which started hard labor instantly. I was terrified at every little detail around me–any dip in the heart rate, a high blood-pressure reading, even the look and feel of the place. After I reached six centimeters, I begged for something, so they gave me Stadol which did virtually nothing. I received another dose about a half an hour later, but again, it did nothing more than make me loopy. I was eight centimeters when I finally said I wanted an epidural. What a difference, except I felt all the pressure of my baby wanting out. After 14 hours of labor, I began pushing, but I had no strength and couldn't feel the contractions very well. My doctor had to use the vacuum but at 8:24 PM I gave birth to my lovely little Amy.
Her eyes were open when he held her up, already rosy pink, with a shocked expression on her face. She was perfect! She cried a second later (louder than any other baby in the nursery), and I had no problem with getting her to breastfeed. She started feeding after being cleaned up. She went with me to the maternity ward, and didn't leave my side the entire stay.
I want every mom to know regardless of age, that pregnancy-induced hypertension is nothing to mess with! I was lucky I didn't go into a coma or suffer a stroke. This was a possibility that I refused to face because of my youth. However young I was when I had my daughter, her birth woke me up and I am forever grateful to her for changing my life for the better!