bubbierachie
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I was a teenager during the middle of the last century. Those were the days before support groups. Sensitivity towards other peoples problems did not seem to be uppermost in peoples minds. And personal matters were mostly kept hidden. As you read this story, you will find many instances of insensitivity that are, thankfully, mostly unheard of today.
As the 1960s opened, the role of women in our country began to change. The discovery of the birth control pill allowed many women to put off child-bearing in order to build careers. The feeling of empowerment over their bodies spurred many of them to make their voices heard in a rapidly changing society.
At the end of 1963, the assassination of President John F. Kennedy first stunned and then energized both men and women in my generation to jump head first into changing the world. As the Vietnam War dragged on throughout the 1960s, men and women protested the war loud enough to bring down President Lyndon Baines Johnson.
With womens new-found empowerment, many shunned traditional marriage in favor of establishing communes where men and women could live a free love lifestyle. (I recently met a man who was born in a commune and had no idea who his dad was!)
It was during these rapidly changing times that I, a young college student, took my place in my world as a married woman. I was 19 years old!
My world is The Orthodox Jewish World. Neither womens liberation nor building a major career were on my agenda. I wanted my voice to be heard, but I wanted to do it in the context of my Orthodox Jewish life. Childbearing was at the top of my list!
My husband and I were both attending a Yeshiva University in New York City. By the age of 21, I discovered that I had an infertility problem. Today it is called PCOS. Regular Ob-Gyns in the 60s were not used to dealing with the new field of infertility, so it was suggested that I see the physician who had delivered Jackie Kennedys babies .a physician to the rich!! I timidly arrived for my appointment during which I was in total awe in the presence of the doctor who had tended to the First Lady!
Jackies doctor suggested that I undergo a major surgical procedure called Wedge Resection. They would cut a wedge of cysts off both ovaries in order to make a clean surface for new eggs to emerge. I was horrified! The thought of surgery terrified me.
I put thoughts of surgery out of my mind as we graduated and moved back to our home town. I began teaching and doctoring right away.
I underwent every test that was available in those days the ones I can remember were called Hystero-salpingogram and Coldoscopy. Birth control pills began to be used for infertility patients, but researchers were inexperienced in regulating the estrogen and progesterone levels in the pills and I became very ill after only one pill.
Every month brought disappointment. Ovulation was measured daily by taking body temperature. Pregnancy could only be determined by blood tests. Waiting for those test results was excruciating and ultimately devastating.
Seeing pregnant women was a nightmare. And sometimes women would make insensitive remarks about my not having produced a child yet. One of my physicians asked, Why are you bothering with all these tests, etc, youre never going to have a child! After such incidents, I would run home crying. Even today, 45 years later, that remark still stings!
Because I knew that G-d has a plan for everyone, I never asked, Why Me?, but, except for the time I spent teaching, I felt very sad and empty.
It took my physicians 2 more years to mention Wedge Resection surgery. By that time I was 24 and ready for the surgery.
Truth be told, this surgery saved my life. One of my ovaries was so laden with cysts that it had to be removed completely. The Dr. said that it could have, at any moment, from the weight of the cysts, twisted in any direction, which could have cut off my circulation! But to me, an infertility patient, the worst news was that the other ovary was also so polycystic that the doctor was only able to save 1/5 of that ovary. I went into surgery to be able to have children and came out with 1/5 of one ovary! My Mom heard the news first and was in shock, although the doctor did assure her that a woman can conceive even with only a small piece of an ovary.
Another year passed and nothing happened. I was beginning to feel desperate. With no support groups, there was nowhere to seek the comfort of others who were experiencing the same pain. And I was surrounded by babies, babies, babies!
As 1966 dawned, something most amazing happened! A well-known Welsh fertility physician took a position at a teaching hospital in my city ..the late Dr. David Charles. The moment I entered his office, I felt his warmth and optimism. I was especially encouraged when, after examining me, he announced, young lady, you WILL have a baby!
Who would have imagined that Dr. Charles was one of only 12 physicians in the USA who were doing clinical trials on a newly discovered drug called Clomephene. (Today it is called Clomid which, to my knowledge, has made Wedge Resection surgeries extinct.) Dr. Charles determined that I was a good candidate for success with Clomephene and asked if my husband and I would be okay with the chance of multiple births. Today that question would be called a no-brainer!
In December, 1966, I became pregnant!
The first seven months of my pregnancy were blissfully uneventful. During my 30th week, I got out of bed in the morning, looked down and saw blood on the floor. My mind could hardly comprehend what I saw.
By the time I got to the hospital, I was already in labor with a suspected placenta previa! There were no sonograms in those days, so I was prepped for a C-section before Dr. Charles, in front of about 25 medical students, examined me to determine, for sure, if his suspicion was correct.
Yes, it was a placenta previa, but Dr. Charles determined that there was enough space for my tiny baby to slip through. The next step was to try to stop the labor. I was immediately hooked up to intravenous alcohol.
The waiting began. Since I was the first placenta previa in the Clomephene Clinical Trials, I instantly became a statistic!
But my labor would not stop. As I was being bumpily wheeled to the delivery room (no birthing rooms in 1966!), a medical resident stopped the gurney and announced that he wanted to try to determine the size of my baby. No patient rights in those days! The resident proceded to prod and push my abdomen. (remember, no sonograms) With all the sensitivity that he could muster, he declared that my baby only had a 50-50 chance to live!
Really? Seriously? Are you kidding? Am I not already under enough stress? If I would have had the big mouth then that I have today, what I would have said to him would be unprintable!
My son slid (literally) into the world. He weighed 3lbs and 1 oz. It was June 20, 1967.
The next thing that happened, in my opinion, could absolutely NOT happen today: In the recovery room a nurse came in, announced that she was giving me a shot to make sure that I would not produce milk. I was too shocked from the events of the day to even evaluate what she was saying. Even though breast feeding was discouraged during that era and pumping and taking milk to the hospital was totally unheard of, I had absolutely intended to breast feed my baby. With that injection, all hopes of breastfeeding were dashed.
In the late 1960s, no family members were allowed to touch their preemie in the incubator. Day by day, we stood in front of the glass window of the preemie nursery watching our tiny baby being fed through a feeding tube and attached to what seemed like zillions of tubes and wires. Believe it or not, I was afraid to take pictures of him in the incubator because I was afraid that the flash from the camera would affect his eyes!
After 2 long, agonizing months, our baby tipped the scales at 5lbs, 8oz. That was the release weight. The day before his release, I was invited into the nursery to hold and feed my baby for the first time. It was surreal. My baby was 2 months old and this was my first physical contact with him. When I think of it now, I could cry.
2011 Update: Our tiny preemie is 44 years old and has a Ph.D in Molecular Genetics! He is the father of 2 teenagers, works with us in SMC Direct, does medical research and loves to tease me that any emotional issues he has comes from the fact that he wasnt touched until he was 2 months old! I laughingly thank him for the guilt trip, but I still feel sick as I wonder what the medical community could have been thinking in those days. Better not to dwell on it.
Anyone out there know any other Moms/Grammas who were Clomid "Guinea Pigs?!"
As the 1960s opened, the role of women in our country began to change. The discovery of the birth control pill allowed many women to put off child-bearing in order to build careers. The feeling of empowerment over their bodies spurred many of them to make their voices heard in a rapidly changing society.
At the end of 1963, the assassination of President John F. Kennedy first stunned and then energized both men and women in my generation to jump head first into changing the world. As the Vietnam War dragged on throughout the 1960s, men and women protested the war loud enough to bring down President Lyndon Baines Johnson.
With womens new-found empowerment, many shunned traditional marriage in favor of establishing communes where men and women could live a free love lifestyle. (I recently met a man who was born in a commune and had no idea who his dad was!)
It was during these rapidly changing times that I, a young college student, took my place in my world as a married woman. I was 19 years old!
My world is The Orthodox Jewish World. Neither womens liberation nor building a major career were on my agenda. I wanted my voice to be heard, but I wanted to do it in the context of my Orthodox Jewish life. Childbearing was at the top of my list!
My husband and I were both attending a Yeshiva University in New York City. By the age of 21, I discovered that I had an infertility problem. Today it is called PCOS. Regular Ob-Gyns in the 60s were not used to dealing with the new field of infertility, so it was suggested that I see the physician who had delivered Jackie Kennedys babies .a physician to the rich!! I timidly arrived for my appointment during which I was in total awe in the presence of the doctor who had tended to the First Lady!
Jackies doctor suggested that I undergo a major surgical procedure called Wedge Resection. They would cut a wedge of cysts off both ovaries in order to make a clean surface for new eggs to emerge. I was horrified! The thought of surgery terrified me.
I put thoughts of surgery out of my mind as we graduated and moved back to our home town. I began teaching and doctoring right away.
I underwent every test that was available in those days the ones I can remember were called Hystero-salpingogram and Coldoscopy. Birth control pills began to be used for infertility patients, but researchers were inexperienced in regulating the estrogen and progesterone levels in the pills and I became very ill after only one pill.
Every month brought disappointment. Ovulation was measured daily by taking body temperature. Pregnancy could only be determined by blood tests. Waiting for those test results was excruciating and ultimately devastating.
Seeing pregnant women was a nightmare. And sometimes women would make insensitive remarks about my not having produced a child yet. One of my physicians asked, Why are you bothering with all these tests, etc, youre never going to have a child! After such incidents, I would run home crying. Even today, 45 years later, that remark still stings!
Because I knew that G-d has a plan for everyone, I never asked, Why Me?, but, except for the time I spent teaching, I felt very sad and empty.
It took my physicians 2 more years to mention Wedge Resection surgery. By that time I was 24 and ready for the surgery.
Truth be told, this surgery saved my life. One of my ovaries was so laden with cysts that it had to be removed completely. The Dr. said that it could have, at any moment, from the weight of the cysts, twisted in any direction, which could have cut off my circulation! But to me, an infertility patient, the worst news was that the other ovary was also so polycystic that the doctor was only able to save 1/5 of that ovary. I went into surgery to be able to have children and came out with 1/5 of one ovary! My Mom heard the news first and was in shock, although the doctor did assure her that a woman can conceive even with only a small piece of an ovary.
Another year passed and nothing happened. I was beginning to feel desperate. With no support groups, there was nowhere to seek the comfort of others who were experiencing the same pain. And I was surrounded by babies, babies, babies!
As 1966 dawned, something most amazing happened! A well-known Welsh fertility physician took a position at a teaching hospital in my city ..the late Dr. David Charles. The moment I entered his office, I felt his warmth and optimism. I was especially encouraged when, after examining me, he announced, young lady, you WILL have a baby!
Who would have imagined that Dr. Charles was one of only 12 physicians in the USA who were doing clinical trials on a newly discovered drug called Clomephene. (Today it is called Clomid which, to my knowledge, has made Wedge Resection surgeries extinct.) Dr. Charles determined that I was a good candidate for success with Clomephene and asked if my husband and I would be okay with the chance of multiple births. Today that question would be called a no-brainer!
In December, 1966, I became pregnant!
The first seven months of my pregnancy were blissfully uneventful. During my 30th week, I got out of bed in the morning, looked down and saw blood on the floor. My mind could hardly comprehend what I saw.
By the time I got to the hospital, I was already in labor with a suspected placenta previa! There were no sonograms in those days, so I was prepped for a C-section before Dr. Charles, in front of about 25 medical students, examined me to determine, for sure, if his suspicion was correct.
Yes, it was a placenta previa, but Dr. Charles determined that there was enough space for my tiny baby to slip through. The next step was to try to stop the labor. I was immediately hooked up to intravenous alcohol.
The waiting began. Since I was the first placenta previa in the Clomephene Clinical Trials, I instantly became a statistic!
But my labor would not stop. As I was being bumpily wheeled to the delivery room (no birthing rooms in 1966!), a medical resident stopped the gurney and announced that he wanted to try to determine the size of my baby. No patient rights in those days! The resident proceded to prod and push my abdomen. (remember, no sonograms) With all the sensitivity that he could muster, he declared that my baby only had a 50-50 chance to live!
Really? Seriously? Are you kidding? Am I not already under enough stress? If I would have had the big mouth then that I have today, what I would have said to him would be unprintable!
My son slid (literally) into the world. He weighed 3lbs and 1 oz. It was June 20, 1967.
The next thing that happened, in my opinion, could absolutely NOT happen today: In the recovery room a nurse came in, announced that she was giving me a shot to make sure that I would not produce milk. I was too shocked from the events of the day to even evaluate what she was saying. Even though breast feeding was discouraged during that era and pumping and taking milk to the hospital was totally unheard of, I had absolutely intended to breast feed my baby. With that injection, all hopes of breastfeeding were dashed.
In the late 1960s, no family members were allowed to touch their preemie in the incubator. Day by day, we stood in front of the glass window of the preemie nursery watching our tiny baby being fed through a feeding tube and attached to what seemed like zillions of tubes and wires. Believe it or not, I was afraid to take pictures of him in the incubator because I was afraid that the flash from the camera would affect his eyes!
After 2 long, agonizing months, our baby tipped the scales at 5lbs, 8oz. That was the release weight. The day before his release, I was invited into the nursery to hold and feed my baby for the first time. It was surreal. My baby was 2 months old and this was my first physical contact with him. When I think of it now, I could cry.
2011 Update: Our tiny preemie is 44 years old and has a Ph.D in Molecular Genetics! He is the father of 2 teenagers, works with us in SMC Direct, does medical research and loves to tease me that any emotional issues he has comes from the fact that he wasnt touched until he was 2 months old! I laughingly thank him for the guilt trip, but I still feel sick as I wonder what the medical community could have been thinking in those days. Better not to dwell on it.
Anyone out there know any other Moms/Grammas who were Clomid "Guinea Pigs?!"
