by Mary Elizabeth McNary
Mary Elizabeth, it's
good to hear your voice," declared my neurologist. We hadn't spoken
in six months. My neurologist is wonderful. I went through five doctors
before finding her, and she has become the friend and partner who helps
me see my MS as an inconvenience rather than a tragedy. "How are
you?" she demanded.
pregnant!" I blurted in disbelief. I'd never expected to say the
"P" word about myself, but true love leads one down unexpected
trails. Fatherhood was the dearest dream of my healthy, strapping husband.
After years of dickering about it, I'd finally agreed to leave the matter
in God's hands. Patrick didn't know it yet, but his dream had just come
My supportive neurologist
referred me to her own obstetrician. The two practice at the same hospital,
and they kept in touch throughout my pregnancy, recommending reading for
me, advising me on everything from medications to prenatal testing, and
consulting each other whenever appropriate. One or both always answered
my questions about gestation, MS, and the interaction between them.
The doctors' collaboration
gave me confidence as my body metamorphosed over the nine months. An expectant
mother with MS should be able to count on her two most important health-care
providers to work well together while she does the life-changing task
of carrying a baby. My physicians got me through it swimmingly.
The first trimester
brought few physical changes. No weight gain, no morning sickness, and
no more than my usual fatigue, weakness, and ataxia. The emotional changes,
however, were something else entirely. The entire trimester was like a
bad bout of PMS.
For twelve weeks,
I was horrible company. Life seemed overwhelming. Everything either infuriated
or depressed me. After snapping at my bewildered husband for some imagined
transgression, I would burst into tears and apologize for being unfit
as a wife, friend, or mother-to-be. What a case of hormone poisoning!
As if my emotional
state weren't indignity enough, the first sonogram revealed something
more. As the radiologist extracted the vaginal probe that had captured
the image of a healthy fetus, she suddenly exclaimed, "Uh-oh! What's
that?!" It appeared that the baby was not alone. Patrick later told
me he'd awakened that morning with the eerie feeling that we'd be having
twins. To his credit, he'd refrained from telling me.
lost it. "You're the one who wanted a kid, now this is what you
get!" I sobbed. "How will I ever do it? What about my life,
my job, my ambitions
? What about my MS?" Patrick was somber.
"We'll manage," he whispered, hugging me.
If MS has taught
Patrick and me anything, it's to keep a sense of humor. After the
shock wore off, we joked about our win-win situation: "You
get to be a father, and I only have to be pregnant once. It's a
'Mc-Family'," I quipped. We left the hospital laughing.
sibling is on the way!
I am currently five-and-a-half months pregnant with my second
child since my diagnosis in 1991. My husband, Philip, has been
key in my ability to keep going while being a pregnant mom.
He takes over when he comes home from work. I still make dinner,
but retire to the couch afterwards to rest. Philip cleans up,
plays with Keith, gets him ready for bed, and sings him to sleep.
I couldn't get through this without my wonderful husband.
-Pamela Meyer, Illinois
We continued laughing
as I grew to be nearly as wide as I am tall. We chuckled as I started
craving red meat instead of my usual vegetarian fare. We giggled as I
started urinating every five minutes instead of just every half-hour.
We told everybody I was having trouble making the transition from sex
kitten to Earth Mother, and they all laughed with us.
By the third trimester,
the twins were making a constant fuss. When I sang, they'd dance inside
of me, keeping time with the song. When I drank seltzer water, they'd
keep me up all night with their hiccups. If I put a paper cup on my belly,
they'd kick it off.
I lived through a
muggy Washington, D.C. summer without an exacerbation of my MS, but I
got no third-trimester break from symptoms. Pregnancy, not MS, hampered
my mobility in the end. My legs and feet swelled up with edema until only
bedroom slippers fit. My gait, long since robbed of any grace, became
a blundering lurch. As the due date ("D-Day," I called it) approached,
I felt as if twin parasites were sucking the energy out of me.
babies arrived safely, by planned C-section, two weeks before D-Day.
They weighed nearly 7 pounds each, and the obstetrician praised me
for being one of her "healthiest" patients.
They are three
years old now, and I remain well, gainfully employed, and happily
married. Not bad for a woman living with MS, is it?
Having a baby when you have MS is like having triplets for a
person without MS. My son, Legend, was born September 13, 2001.
I had a nice, long labor without much pain, but after four-and-a-half
hours of pushing, the doctor concluded that the baby was not
going to drop, so it was a C-section. I have not had any major
flare-ups since the birth.
was breast-fed until he was almost 11 months old, and now
he is drinking from my huge supply of frozen breast milk.
That is a story all of its own!
-Ann Howard, Virginia