I have a need tonight to talk about my pregnancy and the birth of Chase. She was the result of the easiest of my pregnancies. Our older daughter was born when I was twenty-three (barely). My pregnancy with her was difficult in that I had headaches (later diagnosed as migraines). I suffered through them and delivered her by c-section when I was a week late. She was breech, and the doctor advised that it would be best. She developed normally and was a normal toddler when Chase was born.

Chase's womb-warming was more difficult than her sister's. I again had the headaches and had my first MRI to make sure that there was nothing wrong neurologically. It was clear, so I was given the green light to deliver Chase by c-section (she was also breech). I developed a hernia during her pregnancy, so I saw a surgeon before her delivery. It was planned that I would have the c-section and the hernia repair at the same time so that they could work through the same incision at the time of delivery. Problems arose when I went into labor the Saturday before I was to deliver on Monday. I checked into the hospital on Saturday evening, and the obstetrician tried to stop my labor with medication. The meds didn't work, and my labor continued. The meds, however, did make me very groggy and sleepy. I don't remember a lot of what happened that night. Finally, at about 1:00AM, the obstetrician decided that the delivery couldn't wait, and he had to call out his partner, the surgeon, and the pediatrician to do the surgery. Chase was born at 1:15AM. All I remember is that the doctor had to slap her around to stimulate her, and it took her a long time to breathe. I have no idea how long it took to get her to breathe, but it seemed like forever. She did finally cry, and she went home with me three days after her birth.

We went to a scheduled appointment with the pediatrician at two weeks, and I told him that she wasn't making eye contact. I did have an older child, and she was different. She was feeding fine, and she was growing, but she wasn't making the eye contact that her sister had made at that age. The doctor poo-pooed me and told me that I was being a nervous mom. He told me to relax and enjoy her. I did that, but I voiced my concerns at every appointment after that, only to be told that I was being a nervous mom. Who was I to question that.?..I didn't have a medical degree, and I wanted to believe that there was nothing wrong. We continued with this doctor until we made a move to Amarillo for my husband's job.

We got in to see a new pediatrician in Amarillo, and I, once again, voiced my concerns about Chase's development. As we voiced these concerns, we got the same advice that we had gotten before. We were being nervous parents, and we needed to relax and enjoy our daughter. More time passed, and I asked the doctor for testing when she turned two. She had sat up at 12 months and had started walking with assistance at 18 months. I finally had to write a letter to the pediatrician when she was two and still not walking, asking for her to be tested. The doctor wrote back in a very nasty letter that we needed to find another doctor. This ended our relationship with pediatricians forever. We have had family physicians ever since.

The family physician that we found ordered the tests that we requested. It was inconclusive that she might be having petit mal seizures, and we put her on anti-seizure medication for a year. She didn't have any genetic abnormalities, no hearing deficits, and there was no visible brain damage on the MRI. Basically, there is nothing that we can blame her deficits on. There is no diagnosis. She had EEG's a year later, and there was nothing that showed up. She probably never had seizures. We were left with no diagnosis, no reason that she was delayed.

We entered the public school system when she was about 2 1/2. She received home visits from a therapist, and we took her to physical, speech, and occupational therapy twice a week. We loved the therapists, and she made much progress during this time. She entered school when she was three, and we were satisfied with the help that she was receiving. She continued with this, and when she was five, we were ready to put her into kindergarten. This started a horrible experience dealing with the public school system in a small West Texas town.