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I was diagnosed with
PCOS (polycystic ovarian
syndrome) at age 20 and was told at that time I'd need an operation in order to
conceive. I didn't want an operation and I wasn't married, so I just
figured kids weren't in the cards for me.
Once I met Joe, we discussed the
kid thing and decided we liked our "stuff" and being able to travel, etc., so
we'd just pass on the kid thing and maybe adopt after we turned 40. So we
never looked into any changes in PCOS treatment. We never planned on having children
or my becoming a stay-at-home mom; it was a very special surprise.
The first ultrasound image!
Had we asked somewhere along the
way, we would have found out that drugs were available to help with
conception.
Because of the PCOS, I took the drug
Provera to help my cycle each
month. Well, after not taking it for a few months, I started taking it
again in August 1999... and it didn't work. No problem, that happened a
few times before. But when it didn't work again in September, Joe bought a
pregnancy test. I figured I'd humor him and take it, and when it came out
negative, I'd make an appointment with the OBGYN to find out why the Provera
wasn't working. >
The second the lines appeared positive on the home pregnancy test, I knew I
had to have this child and that it was meant to be. Because of my
horrendously weird cycles, and the depo-provera shot I'd had the previous
December, we had no idea when I'd conceived. The week after we found out I
was pregnant, we had the first ultrasound. Joe's eyes bugged when she put
the wand down... it wasn't a little embryo, but a formed baby. I was over
17 weeks pregnant!
I was diagnosed with
Gestational Diabetes in
October 1999, so I was on insulin the
remainder of my pregnancy. We went in for an induction on February 27
(hoping against hope for a 2/29 baby!). The induction didn't go as we'd
planned and I ended up with a C-section. Brendan was yanked
into this world at 7:28 a.m. on March 1, 2000, his maternal grandparents'
wedding anniversary.
The little guy was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen! And anyone
who knows me can tell you I'm not a baby person at all, not by any stretch of
the imagination. His beautiful strawberry blond hair and bright blue eyes
were admired by anyone and everyone who saw him. Unfortunately, he was
born in Berkeley, CA, where it's a crime not to breastfeed and "rooming in" is
mandatory, regardless if you had a 2 hour labor or 3
day-labor-resulting-in-a-C-section delivery. It was 4 hellish days!
Not that any of it has been easy. It's never easy to become a mom, much
less one that is hopelessly out of shape and 37 years old. Those first few
weeks were hell! But his first smile, daily morning smiles and
tear-inducing giggle on 6/21/00 made it all worthwhile. I love that little
guy more than I ever imagined was possible>!
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