I got pregnant with PS the day I graduated from college. She was not planned. I never could remember to take the darn pill, and I guess too much celebrating led us to be less careful than we should have been. Although DH and I had already been married for two years, having kids was not even on the horizon. I had already sent out my first batch of law school apps when I discovered that PS was on the way. I was devastated. She would be due in September, and I just knew that I could not start law school and have a baby in the same month.
Within a couple of weeks the morning sickness became so severe that I could hardly function. Turns out that I was suffering from an extreme version of morning sickness known as hyperemesis. I couldn't keep anything down and lost nearly 30 lbs. (I was 135 to start.) Every few days I was back in the hospital for IV rehydration. Eventually, the doctor put me on IV rehydration therapy at home. I had a little backpack to carry my IV pump in and every third day a home health nurse would come by to move the needle. This continued for most of the first trimester. When I finally went back to work, I had barely enough energy to walk across the room.
But once the hyperemesis finally subsided into "normal' morning sickness, I could at least function again. When I was about 4-5 months and started to feel PS move, I became more excited about her upcoming arrival. I could put law school off for a year--no big deal.
I had been the primary support for Dh and I for the last year. I was working full time, and earning more than twice what he was. Dh was still in school and was doing a low-paying internship that we hoped would be worth the sacrifice in experience gained. DH was supposed to graduate in August. PS was due in September. As both days drew nearer and DH still did not have a job, we both became more and more stressed. I did not know how we would pay the bills when I took off to have the baby, and I really wanted to be able to stay home with her for the first year.
Finally, in late July, DH was offered a position. It was the one he has now, in Big City--300 miles from our little college town. They told him that he could wait until after the baby was born to start, but we knew that we needed the income as soon as possible. So, at 8 months pregnant, we drove to Big City to find an apartment, and just three weeks before PS was born we moved. It was 113 outside the day we moved into our new apartment.
Although early on we had warned my OB/GYN that we would likely be moving before the baby was born, he was livid when I told him that we were moving and he would not be delivering her. He refused to give me a referral in Big City, and told me that no doctor would take me that late in my pregnancy. My reply was that the baby was gonna have to come out one way or another.
As it turned out, the first doctor that I called was willing to take me and she was fantastic.
Very early on September 24th, I woke up thinking I'd wet myself. It had never happened before, but considering the pressure my huge belly was putting on my bladder, anything was possible. I woke up two hours later with the same sensation. Then it dawned on me that perhaps my water had broken and this was a slow leak. Not wanting to unnecessarily disturb my doctor in the middle of the night, I waited until 7:00 am to call, and was told to come in immediately for a check. Irregular contractions started on the way to the hospital. I think DH hit every bump in the road along the way.
While we were sitting in the exam room waiting for the doctor, the flood came. Water started gushing out. At first I thought I was peeing--and I was really embarrassed. But it kept coming and coming--clearly this had nothing to do with my bladder. I started laughing and begging DH to do something to help me. He was simply stunned and absolutely helpless. He said, "How am I supposed to help with this?" I said, "I dunno, get a mop." We were both laughing so hard we had tears running down our faces when the doctor appeared. The flooded floor immediately gave away that my water had indeed broken. DH still counts that as the funniest moment of his entire life.
I was wheeled down to L&D and put on a pit drip. I wasn't very excited about that, but I was too young and timid around the doctor to speak up for myself. L&D was no big deal. Contractions were not nearly as bad as I had anticipated, but then again, I had an epidural fairly early on. I pushed for 2 hours, and could not pop the little critter out. Finally, the doc said that she could either vacuum her out or do a c-section. I wasn't excited about either option, but the doc convinced me that the vacuum was the safest option.
When she was born, DD had a pointy little conehead from the vacuum. She was a fat healthy baby, weighing in at 8 lbs. She had no problems latching on and breastfeeding was a breeze. I instantly adored her. She spent her entire time in the hospital sleeping with me or on DH's chest. The nurses had told me that if I slept, they would take her out of the room--so I didn't sleep unless she was with me. I was paranoid that they would take her and either accidentally switch her (I had just seen a 20/20 about that) or give her a bottle. We only spent one night in the hospital when I asked to go home so that I could rest without fear of the evil nurses taking her.
I loved being a mom and staying home with my baby. Law school fell to the back of my mind. I briefly considered going back to work when she was a year old, but I simply couldn't imagine leaving my sweet baby in daycare. Instead, I committed myself to being a SAHM.
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