Just quick preface – I started this post on October 1. I added to it last on October 31. I have decided I need to publish it and then work through the rest of the journey as time allows. Reasoning is two fold: (1)it will make the post shorter than if I do the entire journey in one post and (2)I want to start getting drafts off the draft list and onto my site.
I have to admit I have never been a skinny person. Yes, at one point in college, somewhere around the age of 19, I weighed under 120 pounds but that was only for about six months. As I went on in college, I settled at a fairly healthy weight – although at the high end of normal – of between 135 and 140. No, I was not particularly active but I was not fat.
This all changed as I left college, entered the real world, married and found myself pregnant with my first child. I have to guess my pre-weight for this first pregnancy was about 144. I gained about 30 pounds with the pregnancy. I delivered a very healthy nine pound boy, full-term and was back in my pre-pregnancy jean and down to 148 three weeks after delivery. I wasn’t worried about those few extra pounds. It was the holidays and I always fluctuated a little at that time of year and I was still nursing so didn’t worry much. Had I known then how many pregnancies my body would go through in the next ten years, I might have reacted differently but I doubt it.
About 18 months after that first child was born, I found out I was pregnant for a second time. This was going to be a wild ride. My weight, to start with, had never really gotten back to 140. I weighed about 150 when I started this pregnancy. This one was very different, though. I was getting much bigger, much faster. My OB/GYN scheduled an ultrasound for me directly from an appointment. It was my 25th birthday. It seems a lot of things that are momentous happen on my birthday. My then husband and I were flying to California later that day to visit family for two weeks. We had scheduled the flight around the pregnancy, not wanting to fly in the first trimester or the the third. Well, I certainly got off the plane with a surprise for my mom.
A quick trip over to the hospital for the ultrasound – you have to remember this was 1986 and an ultrasound machine in a doctor’s office was not the norm – and, then, I sat and waited. The picture was very clear but the technician had been told to tell me to wait while the hospital called the doctor’s office to relay the results to him. I was having twins. Wow! I knew I was huge – at the beginning of my second trimester, I was almost as big as I was full term with my first pregnancy. I realized how big I was when, at the airport, I had to convince the airline that it was safe for me to fly and, no, I was not going to deliver in the air somewhere.
Little did I know, as I left for two weeks on the west coast, that I would come back to Binghamton and have only three weeks left to work. Approximately three weeks after my return to work, my doctor put me on disability as he felt not being on my feet – did he forget I had a 2 year old at home? – and having the ability to nap during the day was best for the babies. He did warn that, at that time in medical circles, most twins were born about five to seven weeks early. This meant that I should deliver around Christmas time as the twins were due February 4, 1987.
Evidently, my body was made for bearing children – at least at that point in my life. I carried the twins full term, delivering them on the morning of January 24, 1987.