In my younger years, I was a healthy person. I was active. I enjoyed activities such as hiking, biking, swimming and working out. I was able to eat whatever I wanted and I never seemed to gain weight. Then I turned 30. There's just something about turning 30 that makes health and fitness a little more challenging. That was also about the time that I learned I had thyroid trouble.
In 2001, my husband and I learned I was pregnant with our first child. We we excited. We were older parents, in our 30s, and looking forward to finally starting our family. The pregnancy went well through most of it. I had trouble with nausea, but that was the majority of my challenges. I was working as a developer of Microsoft Flight Sim and Combat Flight Sim and was truly enjoying my career and had high hopes for a bright future.
September 11, 2001. Our country changed. Life became uncertain. Careers became uncertain. We learned the terrorists had used Microsoft Flight Sim to learn how to fly. That news was devastating. As the confusion and fear unraveled throughout the country, concern for my unborn child's future became something I began to hold in my heart.
My son was due to be born late in December, 2001. My doctor induced me early in December due to a concern for pre-eclampsia. Our son was not ready to be born, and he was struggling to learn to nurse, but we were released from the hospital. I took some breastfeeding classes because my son continued to struggle. I wanted to try to bottle feed him, but, I was surrounded by nursing staff who insisted "breast is best" and told me bottle feeding would ruin his chances of learning to breastfeed. When he was 5 days old, he began to turn blue. I called our Pediatrician and he told me to rush him to the children's hospital that was about an hour away. We had only been driving for 15 minutes when I told my husband I thought he stopped breathing. We called 911 and an ambulance met us on the highway. They revived him and told us we would not make it to the hospital that we had been sent to and diverted us to a different children's hospital that was a little bit closer. The hospital put us up in an apartment and we were blessed to be able to stay by our newborn son's side a majority of his NICU stay. One night, after a few hours of rest at the apartment, we walked back over to the hospital. I believe it was around 3:00 a.m. We went in and learned they had to resuscitate him while we slept. Our son recovered, and was released from the hospital, and went home to be attached to an apnea monitor for the first two months of his life.
During the stress of all of this, I began to not feel well. I was in and out of doctors. At one point, I visited my cardiologist and he told me he thought I had suffered from Postpartum Cardiomyopathy. We were warned to not get pregnant again. It turned out I was pregnant when he told us that news.
- to be continued...