Okay, I think it might be beneficial to give you a little information on how we got to this point. My husband and I were married in September of 2005. We immediately started trying for a baby; we knew we wanted them and why not have one while we were young enough to enjoy it. It took longer than I expected, not long by most standards, but several months. But it happened and we were ecstatic.
And then it all started. Morning sickness? NO. All the the time sickness and not just light. I lost 20 pounds. It never stopped. I had to take medicine to be able to drink anything, forget about eating. I had severe depression and was placed on Zoloft, which we will discuss at a later date. Then I got a migraine one day that wouldn't stop so I went to the local emergency room. Bad choice. They decided to give me an IV and some medicine for the pain and nausea. All good, except they blew out my vein and I ended up with a blood clot in my arm. Not one that would go away on its own either. I immediately had to start giving myself 2 shots a day of blood thinner or it could move and kill Jake and myself. It is a lot easier to give yourself a shot than you'd think! Three months later and it had dissolved and I was allowed to stop the shots. Then my blood pressure started spiking.
So I go to the doctor on November 15, 2006 and they say, "How do you feel about having a baby tomorrow?" Induction. Terrified, that's how I felt. But it would be okay, trained professionals and all that. Well, whatever. All those warnings they give you about epidurals...all the rare possibilities of problems...I had 'em. Took them 4 times to get it in the right place, HURT SO BADLY while they did it, and then the headache. I cannot even explain the headache. Instant vomit whenever I tried to sit up. And then the irony set in. I was induced due to high blood pressure. But now, my blood pressure was dropping. And so was Jake's heart rate. They gave me something for my blood pressure, twice. They had to massage Jake's head to keep his heart rate up while a doctor searched for a suction cup small enough, because come to find out he was 6 weeks early. Hindsight tells me that my epidural was all wrong. Nothing was right. I was SO tired, so sleepy, but I remember a conversation like yesterday. My mom looked at me and said, "Why don't you take a nap before it is time to have a baby?" I looked at her, and as serious as I've ever been in my life, replied with, "Because I'm afraid if I go to sleep I'll stop breathing and I'll die." And I really thought it to be true.
So 7 hours after the induction started, Jake was born, at 4:02 pm. And he was beautiful. (He still is, by the way.) Tiny, 6 pounds 4 ounces, but he lost weight, which is normal and left the hospital 2 days later weighing in at a whopping 5 pounds 14 ounces. He was high maintenance from the start. He "talked" to himself non-stop. While he slept, while he ate, when he was awake. Always. He liked how he sounded. I did too. He got jaundice and was roughly the color of a pumpkin. But he was healthy. He was mine and I loved him. He was difficult from the moment I knew of his existence. Really, before that. All those negative pregnancy tests. He was work from the start. Looking back, I think: I should have known we were headed down a difficult road.
