Ever since I was a child, I knew that I would one day be a mother. There was no question about it. I have always loved children. I like to have children around me and love to hold children in my arms. Maybe that's why the AP approach makes so much sense for me: I love to attach myself to children and to have them attached to me.

A few years after I met Armand, we started talking about having a family. I knew that I wanted him to be the father of my children. He is a wonderful, bright, funny and warm person. And he is great with children. Therefore, shortly after we formed a household, we started trying for a pregnancy.

A few weeks after my sister announced that she was expecting, a little more than 6 months after we started trying, I missed my period. I felt nauseous and bloated and my breasts were tender. I figured I would be having my first child a few months after I became an aunt. However, I really was not ready. Yes, I wanted a child, but did I really want it NOW? I really was not sure. However, when my periods returned 6 weeks later, I was really disappointed, and, a little bit, relieved.

My nephew was born and still, no pregnancy. When I saw and held that little fellow, my maternal instincts increased tenfold. I really, really, really wanted a baby of my own!!! The feeling was so strong, that there were times when I felt like taking Benoit from sister. I knew it was ridiculous, but I was hopelessly jealous of my sister's happiness.

When my nephew was almost 6 months, my father, a longtime sufferer from cardiac problems, got a heart transplant. This was almost too good to be true. Within weeks of the procedures, he was out of the hospital and had lost about ten years. He looked and felt great.

However, those were also very stressful times. After the procedures, he was in critical condition for several days. For the 2 weeks he was in the hospital, we had to be very careful when we visited him, not to tire him out. And we had to be sure not to be sick, since his immune system had been depleted in order to avoid reject of the new heart.

At the same time, these were really busy times at work. I was working overtime on a steady basis, several times a week. Between helping look after my father and working, I was stressed out and exhausted. And I had skipped periods again, exactly a year after I had skipped them the last time. Somehow, I KNEW I was not pregnant. It wasn't until the end of November 1991, more than 3 months after missing my periods, that I started to wonder. I was really doubtful since I had an history of missing periods and I had no symptoms, except for a sudden dislike for black coffee. By mid-December, I knew that I was pregnant. I still did not have symptoms but was, inexplicably, gaining weight. I still felt tired all the time, even though my father was now OK and the overtime had relented. And I was nervous about telling Armand because, suddenly, all our friends seemed to be having problems with their children. I was no longer so certain that he wanted children!!

Finally, a few days after his birthday, I announced that I was expecting. We'd had a party at work, and I had drunk 1 or 2 glasses of wine, something I rarely do. I was feeling very emotional and I just blurted it out. He was ecstatic!!! He simply could not contain his joy. When his aunts called a few minutes later, he announced the news immediately. Same thing when a friend called. He simply could not contain himself. I then called my mom and announced that she would be grandmother again. Being the cautious person that she is, she contained her joy, concerned about my age. I had just turned 34 that September, kind of old for a first child. My sister, who was the next one to be called, was almost as enthusiastic as Armand.

We decided to not tell our coworkers until after the Christmas Holidays. I was also very nervous about that, since I then had to travel extensively for my job and had no intention of traveling once the baby was born. I also called the doctor's office to make an appointment with my sister's excellent GP. Due to the Christmas break, I could only get appointment for December 27, 2 weeks later. I would then be in my 20th week.

When we went for that first prenatal visit, the doctor was surprised that I was so far along. However, he understood how it had come to be. I simply had not figured it out. The day before, I had felt the baby move. What an exhilarating feeling. To know that there is a life inside you and to feel the proof of it. Ultimate bliss!!! And then, we heard the heartbeat. What a great feeling!!

When I returned to work, after the Christmas break, I announced, nervously, that I was expecting and that I had no intention of traveling after the baby's arrival. Since the traveling aspect was part of my job description, I was all set to ask for a lateral transfer. My supervisor, however, said that she would work things out and there would be no need to ask for a transfer. That week, I went for my first ultrasound. Another time to marvel at the wonder of life and procreation. To actually see your baby before its birth is sooooo comforting. However, there was no way to tell if it was a girl or a boy. And we really did not want to know.

Then came the first stressful moment: The gestational diabetes detection tests. This was especially stressful, because my sister developed GD and, consequently, there were complications when Benoit was born. The first test proved to be a little high, therefore I had to go for the 4 hour test. After spending 4 hours in the doctor's office and suffering through 6 blood-lettings, I went to work. A few days later, my doctor called me to let me know that the technician had used the wrong method for the type of test and that the test was inconclusive. Therefore, I had to go for another 4 hour test. This time there were only 4 blood-lettings, but I still was exhausted once the tests were done. However, it was well worth it, because the final verdict was that I was OK.

By this time I was in my 30th week and things were moving right along. I was huge and was getting very strong girl vibes. So was my mother, who desperately wanted a granddaughter. By the 36th week, my doctor was getting concerned that it would be a very big baby. However, I was not overly concerned because he had feared the same thing when my sister was expecting, and my nephew weighed only 7 lbs.

As the time was nearing, things were getting more and more exciting. The fact that I was actually going to have to be was become more and real, especially once the Nursery was ready!! I was suddenly counting how many weeks were left, then how many days. Once the date had come and gone, I knew that it would be any day.

Mother's Day, my due date, went by. May the 14th, my godmother's birthday, went by. May 16th, my due date according to my ultrasound, went by. On May 17th, a coworker's wife, who also was past her due date, went into labor. May 18th, my 100 year old great aunt's birthday, went by. May 19th, Armand's aunt's birthday, went by. Still no baby.

On may 21st, I went for a second ultrasound. This was no longer a routine ultrasound. It was because I had passed my due date by several days. This was to make sure that the pregnancy was progressing well and that the baby was still doing OK in-utero. They told us that all was well, that he weighed approximately 7 lbs 14 and asked us if we wanted to know what it was. Since I knew that would find out anytime, I declined.

By the time I returned to work on the 21st, I was feeling extremely uncomfortable due to an excessive amount of gas that simply would not pass. Or it would pass and I would feel gassy again a few minutes later. Let me say I really was not comfortable.

Being past my due date, I was busy rolling everything up for my successor. There was no question that I would take on any new project!! However, I had enough to do monitoring our automated system.

My 4:30, when I left to meet Armand, who worked across the street, I was feeling quite uncomfortable with all this gas. It simply would not pass!!! And the fact that I had gained 53 lbs in my pregnancy and that I had such a huge belly was not helping. And it was hot!!! We were living the hottest month of May on record, not very nice for a heavily pregnant lady!!!

Around 6:30, a friend came over. He wanted Armand to install some type of gadget on his bike. As the men were working outside, I went about the house. Around 7 pm, I went to the bathroom and the gas finally passed. At the same time, I noticed some blood and some show. I knew this was it!!! I was excited because this meant that the baby would be born on my mother's and my mother-in-law's birthday. The odds of that happening!! Once the gas passed, I started having contractions every 7 minutes. By 8 pm, the contractions were coming every 6 minutes. By 9 pm, I was having very strong contractions every 5 minutes. Before Armand and Marc got settled with a beer and a game of video gold, I told Armand that this was it!!! He was confused and excited. For a while, he really did not know what to do. Then, he decided to go ahead and play the game of golf and relax with the beer. After all, we thought, we still had a long way to go before the baby was here. Little did we know!!!

Around 10 pm, the contractions were coming in every 4 minutes and were very intense. By then, I was uncomfortable sitting or lying down and was pacing all around the apartment. I decided to have a warm bath, as suggested at our prenatal classes. After the bath, I was slightly relieved. Around 11 pm, when my contractions were very strong, coming in every 3 minutes and lasting 1 minute, I decided that I'd better call my doctor. He told me to come in to the hospital.

We got ready to leave, I called my mother and my sister to let them know where I was going and we left the apartment around 11:30, at the same time as our friend, who extremely impressed by our calm attitude.

During the 20 minute car ride to the hospital, things got very out of hand. The contractions had become so intense that I could no longer keep track of the spacing. By the time we reached the hospital, I had a hard time walking, though I was happy to be on my feet again. Sitting down really was not comfortable.

When we got to the birthing room, I was unexpectedly pleased to be attended by a nurse I had worked for in my teenage years as a Nursing Home Nurse's Aid. This was great!!! She is a wonderful lady and we spent most of the time catching up on my home town.

By then, I was having a very show of blood and things were progressing really fast. After she finally coaxed me in the bed, she evaluated me and noted that I was at 9 cms!!! It was 12:20 am on May 22nd. My doctor got there 10 minutes later. A few minutes later, I was ready to push!!

There had been no time to remove the fetal heart monitor and the nurses and doctor quickly realized that the baby's heartbeat would go down from 140 bpm to 40 bpm every time I pushed. The doctor had me lie on my left side. His heartbeat would only go down to 100 bpm when I pushed. The nurse put me back on my back, his heartbeat went drastically down again!!! That's how I ended up giving birth on my side. As the doctor said, the baby was doing better in that position and so was I.

After several more push, I gave birth to the baby's head. Then, the doctor had a very hard time getting the shoulders out. They were really wide shoulder for a 7 or 8 lb. baby, as the ultrasound had shown. Finally, at 1:24 am, I gave birth to a huge baby boy. The doctor laid him on my stomach just long enough to cut the chord, then he took him away in order to give him oxygen: He was not breathing. Seconds later we heard a big cry, and the doctor returned with our son.

While the doctor sewed me up, we had plenty of time to examine and admire him. I was in shock. This was not a daughter, this was son!!! And it was not a 7 lb. baby, it was a 9 lb. 9 ounces baby!!! He was so huge!! And he did not look like a new born. He looked like a 1 month old baby. But we knew that it was our baby, because he looked just like his father!!! He still does. The only problem was that we could not call him Vanessa. That was the only baby name that we had, so strong had the girl vibes been!! 11 days later, we decided to name him Marc-Andre.

In 1993, when Marc-Andre was 2 ½ years old, I had a very bad car accident. The car, which I had just finished paying, was totaled and I suffered terrible whiplash. For the 3 following weeks I simply could not get back to normal: I felt week, was very achy and was very depressed. I was not eating, but was hardly loosing any weight. My periods had started 3 days after the accident, almost a week early, and they were not stopping. Not only that, I had periods of severe hemorrhaging. I put it all down to my accident, the shock and the fact that was taking anti-inflammatory medication and muscled relaxants. However, on the Saturday of the 3rd week after my accident, the bleeding became extremely heavy and was accompanied by intense discomfort. I was not cramping, but I had a lot of pain in the pelvic area. We decided to head to Emergency Ward once again, much against our will. When I got there, the hospital was quite sure that I was miscarrying. What a fool I must have seemed when I insisted I was not pregnant!! However I was, and went through a D&C that same night. The whole episode was pretty distressing, especially since I figured that my chances of becoming pregnant were pretty slim, given the fact that I was 37 years old.

In April of 1995, my periods started getting a little erratic. They were still regular, or as regular as they had ever been for me, but they were not as heavy. And my breasts did feel a little sensitive. However, I was doing very good on my weight loss diet and put it all down to nearing Menopause.

In July of that year, at my niece's first birthday party, my mother noticed that my tummy was getting a little big, odd given the fact that I was still loosing a lot of weight. She asked about the possibility of my being pregnant, but I denied it because I had not missed a period. That night I started thinking: What if? I had apparently been pregnant without missing a period at least once before, could I be once again? However, that time I had been gaining weight, while, this time, I had lost 11 pounds since the time my periods started acting up. However, what if? And, as if by magic, I did miss my period that month.

In August, I booked an appointed with the Gynecologist who had done my D&C. By the time I saw him, since it was holiday time, I was starting my 24th week. Must be something about me and not figuring out I am pregnant before that 20 week mark!! Being 38 years old, almost 39 at the time of that first appointment, my doctor was a little concerned that it was too late for an amnio. I was happy of the fact, because I don't know how I would have reacted if I'd had to make the choice between continuing the pregnancy or ending it. As it was, the only choice was to continue.

That week, we went for the ultrasound. Since I knew that this was to be my last baby and since I really, really, really had strong girl vibes, but wanted to know and prepare myself it it was not a girl, we asked to know the sex of the baby. Wonderfully, the verdict was, very clearly, a girl. On the way home for the hospital we named her Genevieve. The name was good and was going to remain our choice. What a change from naming Marc-Andre: This time we had named her a good 4 months before her birth as opposed to naming him 11 days AFTER his birth.

This pregnancy went really well and was practically uneventful. I was not gaining much weight, except for the whopping 12 pounds gained in my 4th month. By the time I reached my due date, I had only gained 29 pounds, and that included the 11 pounds I had lost while pregnant. The baby was moving constantly, though in nice soft waves. The movements were so gentle that my entourage was worried that she was not moving at all. There was little I could do to reassure them. They were were also very concerned by my advanced geriatrics: after all, I had just turned 39, which is kind of old to be bearing children!!

This time, I was convinced that she would be born before my due date. So convinced, that I panicked at the idea of not completing all the things I had to do at work. To make matters worst, my replacement got sick the week before I was to leave, leaving me with a few added burdens that I HAD to complete before I left. Everyday was a new milestone, and one less deadline to meet before that fatidic day.

On November 28th, I completed my second to last deadline, a very important meeting with contractors, and left work early to get to my doctor's appointment. On the way there, we picked Marc-Andre at the day-care. Given his particular problems, this was always stressful: We never knew what kind of day he'd have. There was a monster snowstorm. It took us a little longer than expected to clear the traffic slowed by the foul weather. When I got to the Dr's office, I had to walk over snow-banks. By the time I reached the office, I was a little frazzled and a little out of breath. This might explained why my blood-pressure had gone from my normal of 118/75 to 142/90. My doctor, not one to leave anything to doubt, was worried by this rise in BP. He ordered me off work, which was devastating for me because I had another very important meeting the next day, the last of my milestones. He also sent me off for fetal reaticvity test at the hospital. Stubborn as I am, I decided not to mention the little tid-bit of him ordering me off work, and to go for the test and take it from there.

At the hospital, my BP was back to normal. It took a while for the test to be conclusive, because she was asleep and was moving very little. Since it could also have meant that she was in trouble, my doctor insisted that I stay there until she moved satisfactorily. Finally, a few glasses of cold Orange Juice got her moving and the test was conclusive. I was free to go, and I decided to head straight for the office. And I finished my last week on that Friday, with 2 days to breathe a little, deadlines all met!!

One week went by, and we reached my due date, my husband's birthday. Baby not ready to come. Another Dr's appointment, and he wonders at the marvels a little rest will do. He also worries because he can't tell for sure in which position the head is in. Therefore, I'm off to the hospital again. A quick ultrasound shows the head in the prone position, but still not engaged. He decides that I book an appointment for the next Monday, December 18th and that if she's not born by then, he will induce me.

I am getting restless and worried. I have a horrible cold and cannot see myself giving birth in such a condition. Furthermore, my doctor will be away that weekend and do not want to be attended by someone else. However, we are getting awful close to Christmas, a lot closer than I thought we would be. I do not want to spend Christmas Eve or Christmas in the Hospital. That simply would not be fair to Marc-Andre.

That Monday, we take my suitcase with us. We drop Marc-Andre off at the day-care, letting them know that our neighbor, whose son is attending the same day-care, might be picking him up that evening. Since her husband is there at the same time as we are, we let him know that we might need their services. And off we are to the Doctor.

When we got to the Dr's office, he started with usual examinations. I was already dilated 3 centimeters and cervix was a lot shorter than it had been in the last 6 weeks. He asked me where my suitcase was. He laughed when I replied: In the car!!! He told me to head for the hospital where he would insert the gel later that day, probably late morning or early afternoon.

At the hospital, I was pleased my the size and look of the birthing rooms. What a difference 4 ½ years make!! The rooms were huge, pastel colored with a wonderful hot-tub dominating one corner. What luxury!!!

I got settled. The nurses would monitor the baby's heartbeats once in a while, but not too often. I was having steady BH contractions every two minutes. But, then again, I'd been having contractions for the past four months. These were just a little more frequent. I was not in labor, yet.

Around 2:30, the Dr. inserted the gel. By 4:30, I was still having contractions every two minutes, but they were becoming a little intense. At that time, I called my husband and told him to have supper with his mother and Marc-Andre, and to head for the hospital afterwards. I thought the baby would be born in early evening. Just as I hung up, the doctor walked in and burst my waters. Boy, was there a lot of water!! And, right then and there, the contractions started with a vengeance, still coming in every 2 minutes. I called Armand to tell him to come NOW!!

Around 5 pm., the nurses set me up in the Hot Tub. Their last exam told them that I was at 5 centimeters. I relaxed a bit in the warmth of the jets. However, by the time Armand arrived, around 5 :15, I could no longer remain seated. The pains were becoming too intense. They got me out of the tub and into the bed. An exam revealed that I was at 9 cm. Wow, 4 cms in 15 minutes or so!! The nurses decided it was time to call the doctor.

The doctor peaked in the room at 5:30, and I was struggling not to push. I had been doing that for the past 5 minutes or so. Wow, the urge to push sure is strong and IT IS hard to not push. A few minutes later, the doctor was in the room again and he told me I could push. What a relief!! Two pushes, and the head is out. Time to breathe while the doctor gets the shoulders out. OUCH, she's got big shoulders. It hurts!! Finally, the shoulders are out and I'm told to push again. At 5:50, a little more than an hour after my labor officially started, Genevieve made a noisy entrance into the world!!! Armand cuts the cord, and they leave her on my tummy. However, she is crying quite a lot. I try to nurse her, but no can do. She turns angrily away.

The nurses weigh her: Another 9 lbs baby: she way 9 lbs 2 and measures 21 ½ inches. Quite a big girl. And all those worriers have the proof that they should not have worried: her APGAR is 9 and 9. And she was beautiful. She looked a lot like Marc-Andre, though her hair, what she had of it, was a lot paler, almost red. And she did not look like such a big baby. Maybe it was because we were used to big babies or maybe it was because she was so well proportioned.

When Armand called to let his mother and Marc-Andre know that Genevieve had arrived, my mother-in-law asked, nervously, how the baby was. Therefore, when Armand told Marc-Andre, HE asked how the baby was. How cute and touching. Well, I guess it was a more appropriate question that my nephew's first question, when his sister was born: He asked: May I talk to her?

The next morning, an overwhelmed Marc-Andre came in to meet his new sister for the first time. He was just in awe of this little wonder. He simply stood there and looked at her. And, from that first meeting, they bonded like no other brother and sister I have ever seen.

When I was expecting both of my children, I felt a lot of pressure to have tests done in order to make sure that my babies were OK. None of these pressures were based on past family history of birth defects. None of these pressures were based on my own medical history of carrying babies with birth defects. There were based on the fact that I was older than most expecting mothers.

I feel that this pressure is undue and based on false thruths. Yes, there is a higher incidence of birth defects in the babies born by older mothers. I wonder, though, if these statistics take into consideration the women's medical and family history? I wonder if the statistics are higher for those with a family or personal history of birth defects? I wonder if the statistics are sensibly lower for those with no history of birth defects?

It so happen that several of my classmates were also expecting at the same as I was expecting Genevieve. Two of us opted not to have the genetic testing. I don't know about the others. None of us had babies with birth defects. None of us had a history of birth defects. On the other hand, I know at least 2 much younger women who bore babies with spina bifida and down's syndrome. In both of these cases, there was a history of birth defects.

The pressure to test and the worries caused by the endless tales of birth defects in babies born by older women are terrifying and, in my opinion, put our healthy pregnancies at risk. I am not saying that doctors should ignore the risks altogether. I just think that they should not automatically assume that all women over 30 are at risk!!

Another issue that comes along with those tests, occurs in the event that the tests show that there is something wrong. How accurate are those tests to say exactly WHAT is wrong? Do they say to what extent the problem exists? What is the woman to do: Continue with the pregnancy, in the hope that the problems are minor? Abort, in the hope that the problems WERE major and that a reasonably healthy fetus was not destroyed? I'm happy that I did not have to face this dilemma!!

If you are a woman over thirty, please consider all the issues before agreeing to have the tests!!!

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