1990-1993 - The Years of Multiplication

Benjamin and Christopher kept me quite busy those first months. I was overjoyed. Christopher was so ahead of the game, always trying to outsmart his parents and relatives, a brilliant little boy. Benjamin was content just to find a new reason to giggle. As much as I loved those little boys, I knew I wasn't done. My heart ached to keep going. Maybe God created women to have this deep desire to create new life. At least that is how He created me. I adored my little boys in such different and enormous ways, I just knew that my heart had room for more.

My first husband disagreed with the notion of having more. He thought that babies disrupted our lives too much. He was ready to put his foot down when I took a pregnancy test, positive. Christopher was only two and a half, Ben was three months old, and another on the way? As much as my heart ached to have more, I didn't feel ready for another. I was terrified of how I would care for three so small. I was only 22 years old! Was our home big enough? So many things went through my head but mostly, I can not be that sick right now with two small boys to care for. I prayed and begged God, Yes, Lord I do not want to seem as if I do not want this gift you have given me, I do so much, but later would be good. Let me enjoy these first few months with Benjamin before I go back to vomiting every five minutes around the clock!

After a few days of crying, I began to accept the idea of another baby. Yes, it would be nice, three little boys so close in age. I scheduled an appt with my OB and he said there was no need to come in until my twelfth week. So I waited and enjoyed the idea of a new baby, it seemed like they would almost be twins. The idea grew on me as I pictured dressing them alike but in different colors and all of the cute things you can do with little boys so close in age and size. When my appointment finally rolled around, they tried to find a heartbeat but could not. The next step was an ultrasound. The doctor spent quite a while looking, but saw nothing in my uterus. No evidence that any baby had been there at all. He said it was not a miscarriage, but that the pregnancy test had been wrong. I was devastated.

I felt I was being punished because I had told God that I did not want his gift to me. I told my family about what had happened and they all breathed a sigh of relief. They didn't understand why I was crying. My dream was gone. This third baby was gone. They pointed out with their logical brains how hard it would have been on me to have three so close in age. They reminded me that, in fact, I was not even pregnant in the first place. They reminded me, it isn't as if you miscarried, or that a baby has died, you weren't pregnant at all. You should be glad. My husband was thrilled. He was sure to be much more careful to prevent a future pregnancy. I was crushed.

The rest of that year was a busy one, caring for two small boys was a full time job, plus I actually had a full time job. I was managing my parents' bowling alley. Benjamin would come with me to work, and Christopher would visit with my parents all day. It was a pretty good arrangement for all of us. Christopher got spoiled all day and a break from his pesky little brother. I got my time alone with Benjamin, and there were always enough good friends at the bowling alley to help hold him when I was busy. The boys' dad worked about eighty hours a week, so he wasn't around much and when he was, he was usually in a bad mood, so I would take the boys to the park a lot. My heart still ached for another baby but my husband refused to even discuss it.

Just after Christmas and Ben and Christopher's birthdays, I started feeling very sick. I went to the doctor in desperation. I was sure it was the flu or even worse. He asked me if I could be pregnant. I said no, my husband was always sure we used at least three forms of protection. "Well," my doctor said, "Let's just test to make sure." they did a pregnancy test, and believe it or not I was pregnant! I couldn't have been more happy! I would take all the vomiting in the world to have this baby!

My husband was waiting at his mother's house for me to finish my appointment. My doctor had given me a book on pregnancy and I walked into the house and handed the book to him. I could see from the look on his face this would take some getting used to. His mother was so angry she stormed out of the house. Later she said that since children with a grandparent with juvenile diabetics have a 1 in 3 chance of getting it, that by having a third child I was guaranteeing one of my babies would be diabetic. Like somehow by my third babies conception, I was putting Christopher and Benjamin's health at risk.

As usual, my pregnancy was a hard one. I spent the first five months throwing up every few minutes. None of the medications helped, and I didn't have anyone to watch my boys long enough for me to spend time in the hospital getting IV fluids. I just got more and more sick, every day. Finally, the morning sickness let up. Unfortunately, it was just in time for a new ailment. I didn't know what was going on, but I had horrific pain in my stomach and chest. I would drink mylanta by the gulp and it didn't help at all. The pain was so bad I would fall to my knees. My doctor was certain it was the city water and told me to drink bottled water. That didn't help. Finally on one of my trips to the hospital a nurse whispered to me to ask them to check my gallbladder.

I begged the doctor to check that, and there they were seven huge gallstones. The ultrasound that showed the stones showed also that we were having a boy! I was glad to know the source of the pain, but terrified I would need surgery while pregnant. On my due date, I went into the hospital in so much pain I was vomiting. Everyone was sure I was in labor. I was sure I was not. They checked for contractions and I was not having any. They did other tests and found out that my gallbladder was badly infected. I was put on IV antibiotics and not allowed to consume anything at all by mouth for five days. I had IV fluids to keep me hydrated, but couldn't eat or drink anything at all. My Mom had just gotten a fax machine and she faxed the hospital with a comic of a cow being shaken by one of those old fashioned exercise shaker belts. It was labeled "Milk Shake". She wanted to give me exactly what I wanted. It brought the first smile to my face I had had in a while. The next smile was when she surprised me by showing up at the hospital! She had flown in from Idaho to be with me!! I knew that everything would be ok.

After the infection was finally down, the doctors induced labor, needing to have Zachary born soon so I wouldn't need an emergency c-section and gallbladder removal all at once. I had the easiest labor I could have asked for! 45 minutes of hard labor one push and there was my little boy! He was so beautiful! He looked nothing like his big brothers had, yet all three boys were perfect in every way. Zachary's face was very bruised from the quickness of his birth. But that cleared up in a couple of days. He was such a delight, the easiest baby I had ever been around.

My Mom brought Christopher and Benjamin to the hospital to meet their little brother. Christopher sang "Hush little baby don't say a word, Mommy's gonna buy you a mocking bird, if that mocking bird won't sing, Mommy's gonna buy you a billy goat..." It was so cute!! Benjamin couldn't have been any less interested in Zach. I am not sure he even noticed there was a baby in the room. He played with the bed, making it go up and down, hid in the closet, and flushed the toilet. I was put on a very low fat diet and lots of antibiotics for eight weeks when my gallbladder could be removed lapriscopically. My husband wanting to make certain that we did not have any more surprises quickly scheduled a vasectomy. It felt like the death of a dream fell upon me. I knew that every moment I spent with Zachary would be my last moments as a mother to a newborn.

My year with Zachary was the best and worst you could imagine. I loved being home with my boys full time. I had found my passion in motherhood. My health became very poor. After my gallbladder surgery, I ended up with influenza. I was horribly sick with a fever of 104 for more than two weeks. As soon as the flu had passed, I had mastitus (a breast infection). I was sick with a fever of 103 for a week, and the doctor said that continuing nursing was the only way to get through it. Nursing was horrifically painful, but somehow I made it through. I was hoping and praying to nurse Zachary for a whole year, as that was what all the books said was the best thing for him. Somehow I made it to six months and thought I deserved some sort of party to have nursed through the flu, mastitus and a surgery. Just then I got the flu again. Back in bed for two weeks, I thought that I had to have had the worst year ever to have had all of these ailments after just getting over an HG pregnancy. Finally my health seemed to be restored and my summer was spent enjoying my boys in our back yard wading pool. I began doing an in home day care. My heart was content.

I was certain I could make to my one year nursing mark. Then three days before Zachary's first birthday I was in a terrible car accident. I had whiplash and was in so much pain, there was just no way for me to continue nursing. I felt like such a failure to have come so close and then failed. Of course, I can look back now and know that I made it to my one year mark but not then, I was deeply depressed. I had a garage sale and sold all of the things that I cherished as if somehow this would make amends for my not nursing for that entire year. I even sold the cradle that had rocked my three sons to sleep. I figured, I had failed as a mother and didn't deserve this beautiful reminder of my sons' time as infants.

I found out a week later that I had sustained a concussion that was causing depression and memory lapses. After about a month, my thinking was back to normal and I was very hurt by the loss of that cradle. But of course, there was no getting it back. I spent three months in physical therapy before I was able to move my neck again.

As Christmas approached, my health returned to normal. I had a big 101 Dalmations birthday party for Christopher and Benjamin. We repainted the guest room and surprised them with new bunk beds. Their room was blue on the bottom half of the wall with striped wall paper on the top half, divided through the middle with a dalmation boarder. We painted Zachary's room red with a fire truck boarder.

What an amazing couple of years those were. Even typing now, I can't believe all that we went through together. I think that those difficult times are what bonded us so closely. It seems that the hard times are what I look back and smile at our courage and strength to have gotten through them. Sometimes I wonder about that pregnancy that never was. I wonder if God simply answered my prayer for later and moved Zachary's time back by a few months. I was now the mother of the three most wonderful boys a woman could want. My heart ached for more, but I knew that was not going to be possible. So instead I just poured my heart and life into the gifts I had in my three amazing little boys, and celebrated Christmas 1993.