What a 8 months that turned out to be!

#1 Daughter was 15 mo. old.  We knew at that time that #1 Son was on the way.  I was 6 mo along with him at that time.  We only had one crib and were in need of another.

A friend of mine (who was due any minute with twins) decided to go to the mall and get a new crib mattress with me.  MFH (My Favorite Husband) and I had some plans to move #1 Daughter into a “Big Girl” bed that was still the same size as a crib.  Clear as mud, I know.  (It did work out very well, though).

We found the things we needed.  # 1 Daughter was an angel on the trip. My friend was struggling while we were shopping.  She had been having some minor contractions.  They turned out to be nothing.  I felt great!  That evening, though everything started to hit the proverbial fan.

I went into labor that night.  At six months along, that was not good.

The people at the hospital were very kind to us.  #1 Daughter went to stay with my friend (you know, the one that was expecting twins any second).  The Dr was having a difficult time stopping my labor.

I remember well the Dr. coming into my room and saying, “Mrs. Howard, if we cannot stop this labor, this baby will not make it.’  Not exactly the thing I wanted to hear.  The Dr. then started me on Mag Sulfate.  This was standard stuff used at that time to stop contractions.

I was still having contractions and dilating.  I was also having violent reactions to the Mag Sulfate.  I was pretty miserable and MFH was in a panic.  He called my Mom to see if she could help with #1 Daughter.  Nope.  He called his mom.  She immediately quit her two jobs and drove overnight to our home in Chicago and what she thought would be maybe a week turned into two months.  She is a remarkable woman!

(Funny sideline right here.  As soon as MIL picked up #1 Daughter from my friend, she went to the hospital and had her two boys!)

I was in the hospital for a week.  The Dr. tried everything to stop the labor.  As soon as he started taking away the meds, everything picked up right where it left off.  We were in a pickle.

Finally, my Dr. discovered a trial that was being done for the FDA.  He got me into it.  I was able to go home.

The medication was not at that time approved by the FDA…I never did find out if it got approval or not.  I had to wear a pump and give myself IV’s.  I was required to change the IV site every other day.  I had to wear a fetal monitor and record a test strip twice a day.  I had to sent the strip in to the Dr.  He would check my progress that way.  That and weekly visits to his office.

On average, I had to go to the ER two to three times a week to get stabilized again.  It was a nightmare, to be sure.

Every time I had a Dr. appointment, I would ask how the baby’s lungs were.  I wanted to make sure that if I delivered at that time, he wouldn’t have any problems.  For some reason, I was fixated on his lungs.  Funny the things we focus on.

Finally, I was 8 mo pregnant.  I looked like a pin cushion from all of the hospital visits and my IV’s at home.  I felt dreadful but I KNEW that if #1 Son was born now, he would be just fine.

I had spent the past two months having, on average, 13 contractions an hour.  The medication had not been able to stop the contractions, just make them ineffective.  They were short and quick contractions but let me tell you, they were there and they were recorded for all to see on the strips I sent in to my Dr. twice a day.

I had been on complete bed rest during all of this time.  MIL had stayed with us through all of this.  She had been cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, driving to Dr appointments and babysitting.  I will say it again, she is an amazing woman!

MIL had to go home about this time for one week.  She felt awful about it but there were some issues pertaining to some estate stuff that had to be dealt with in person.  My Dad was able to take some time off from work and stay with us for one week.

On the evening of September 28, 1989, the contractions changed.  They were all of a sudden, very, very serious.  I knew then, that no matter what that Dr. said, we were going to have a baby.

MFH drove me to the hospital and the Dr said that I was fully effaced and that he supposed he was going to have to “Let me have the baby.”  I thought to myself, “Well, that’s mighty big of you.”  “Let” me have the baby, indeed.

MFH tried and tried to call my Dad on the phone to let him know what was happening.  That took quite a while but we finally let him know and he got #1 Daughter and came on over to the hospital.

Once the Dr finally let me have the baby, it was a snap!  Of course, I had been practicing for this for how long by then?

#1 Son arrived screaming.  I think he was as glad to have this done as I was!

September 29, 1989, #1 Son was born in time for me to get my lunch tray!  HA!

Happy Birthday!!!