My husband and I were married just eight months before we decided to try and have kids at age 24. After no luck for about six months, we sought out the help of an infertility doctor. I was put on 50 mg. of Clomid, but six months later, we still hadn't conceived. The doctor decided to do a D&C, and used a small camera to check me out for scar tissue. He found a polyp blocking one of my tubes and removed it. I went back on Clomid at 100 mg. and became pregnant three months later.
My pregnancy was relatively uneventful, and I didn’t even look pregnant until I was six months along. We didn’t find out the sex of the baby so we had fun listening to everyone’s guesses. My due date was June 9, 1999. On June 6, I went to my niece’s birthday party and later to a movie with a friend. I woke up the next morning about 6:00 a.m. and my water had broken. I woke my husband up and we left for the hospital at 7:30 a.m. By 8:30 I was asking for an epidural. It took the doctor 45 minutes of poking and prodding along my lower spine before he finally got a line in half way up my back. The vertebrae in my lower back were too close together to get a needle between them. The nurse had given me some sort of pain reliever in the meantime that made me totally loopy. The epidural definitely helped and at 10:00 a.m. I was able to start pushing.
At 10:09 a.m. our daughter, Emma Grace, was born with a full head of black hair. She weighed nine pounds even and had a very round head. The moment when your baby is born, besides being incredibly emotional and amazing, there comes the greatest feeling of physical relief. All the aches and pains you’ve been feeling for months are almost instantly relieved.
When Emma was about one and a half, we decided to start trying for another baby thinking it would take us at least two years again. Two months later I was pregnant without any infertility treatment at all. The big difference I noticed with the second pregnancy was that I was more sore and uncomfortable. The baby sat low and pressed hard on my groin muscles. My due date was October 5, 2001. I remember sitting in the bathtub on September 11th and hearing the news about the World Trade Center and wondering how I could bring my baby into a world that was so screwed up. Then I thought to myself, "I know my child is going to make this world a better place." I still believe that. My due date passed and the baby (who we knew was a boy) was at 0 station and 80 percent effaced but in no hurry to come out. Finally on October 15, my doctor decided to break my water because I was 3 cms. dilated and the baby was just getting too big. At 2:00 p.m., within half an hour of breaking my water, my contractions really kicked in. I asked for an epidural and told the doctor who did it about my difficulties the last time. After just a few minutes he swore it was in, but I was still feeling pain from the contractions, so the nurse ordered more medication. She said I might as well be getting my money’s worth.
I found this delivery much more frustrating. The monitor which tracked my contractions was directly behind me so I couldn’t watch it and prepare myself for what was coming. My husband kept playing card games on his PDA in the corner instead of helping, and the nurse kept calling me “Hon.” I don’t think anyone realized how quickly my labor was progressing because by 3:30 p.m. I was ready to push and the doctor hadn’t come back at all. Finally the nurse checked me again and I was 10 cm., fully effaced and the doctor was called back. The baby’s head was rather large and the doctor tried to give me an episiotomy. I tried to push his hand away because it hurt so badly.
Finally at 3:55 p.m., our little guy, Matthew Robert, was born. He was nine pounds, eight ounces, and had the biggest, roundest belly on him! I got to hold and try to nurse him but when the nurse checked on him again he was running a slight fever, so they took him to the NICU. He was there for four days and they ran every test imaginable on him but never could find out the cause for the fever. He was definitely the biggest baby in the NICU. There was a set of triplets there and I remember thinking their combined weight was still less than Matt’s. I’m glad they were extra careful with Matt but being hooked up to all those monitors and tubes made it difficult to nurse him and we both got very frazzled. I went home two days before him and returned to the hospital every two hours to try and nurse. Many times I would show up to feed Matt and see that the nurses had given him a bottle, which I had requested they not do. Once he came home, he finally got the hang of it and nursed for six months.
Emma is now five and Matt is three, and I am expecting my third child. We weren't sure about whether to have a third kid and decided just to trust in the Lord and see if it would happen on its own. It eventually did and we haven’t found out the sex yet, but it’s fun to watch the kids argue about whether it’s a boy or a girl. I hate to disappoint one of them but this is definitely the last pregnancy for me. My doctor has promised he won’t let this baby get as big as the last two did. If I have a seven-pounder, I swear I’m going to kiss my doctor and name the baby after him!