Islands, Babies, and Hospitals…

This the story of how I became “The Happy Housewife.” You might want to start at the beginning.

I loved living on base. I felt safe when Sailor was working the night shift and I made friends with many of our neighbors.

Strangely enough several of our neighbors worked in the same field Sailor worked in before he switched to nursing. The more he talked to these guys to more he wanted to go back to his old job.

We didn’t know how that would be possible since he had to serve at least four years in the Nurse Corps before he was eligible for a transfer and even then he didn’t think he would be competitive for the board.

That summer Sailor started to create a plan to build his “resume” so he could apply to transfer back to his old job. One of the major qualifications he was lacking was that he didn’t have a sea tour or an overseas tour. Since it is fairly difficult to get a sea tour as a nurse he started looking at overseas job openings.

For weeks he would check the website daily looking for openings. One day he found an opening in Guam. He asked if I was willing to move to Guam and I said sure not even knowing where it was on a map! He called the guy in charge and in less than 15 minutes we found out we were headed to Guam in about ten months.

It wasn’t long after he was “penciled in” for orders to Guam that I started having second thoughts. The flight from Orlando (where our families lived) to Guam took almost twenty-four hours and tickets were very expensive. I realized if we moved to Guam we wouldn’t see our family for two years!

I asked Sailor to keep checking the website to see if another job opened that was closer to home. The next day a job opened up in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The only thing I knew about Guantanamo Bay was that my dad was stationed there in the 60’s, but it was significantly closer to Florida than Guam so Sailor called and had is orders changed.

Right after we received orders to Cuba we found out we were expecting baby number four. I was worried having four kids would cancel our orders, but apparently they don’t care how many kids you have when you move to Cuba.

I spent the next week trying to find out as much as possible about our soon to be new home, GTMO.

One sunny day in September I was starting school with our seven year-old when former co-worker of Sailor called the house.

“Turn on your television”

“Why?”

“Just turn it on…”

I turned on the television and watched in horror as the second plane hit the tower.

The rest of the day was a blur. The base was shut down and we weren’t supposed to leave the house. Sailor called work and volunteered to be deployed to any area necessary.

I knew our lives had changed forever on that day, but I didn’t realize how close it would hit to home until years later.

Life continued and I was getting excited about moving to GTMO. From our research it seemed like a Mayberry in the middle of the nowhere. Everyone was friendly, the schools were good, and you could even walk to the grocery store depending on where you lived. The ocean was crystal clear and you could go swimming 365 days a year.

Life was going to be good. I was looking forward to leaving Norfolk and starting a new chapter in our lives.

During one of my routine doctor appointments my heart rate was a little high. I told the doctor I wasn’t under much stress and I didn’t really know why it was so high. I was occasionally out of breath, but I attributed it to being six months pregnant. To be sure nothing was really wrong he had me wear a halter monitor for twenty-four hours to track my heart rate.

When the doctor read the results he was concerned. My heart was racing every few minutes and it was even happening in my sleep. He prescribed medicine to help keep my heart rate down. The medicine made me feel terrible, but the alternative was feeling like I was running a marathon.

One night while Sailor was at work I could feel my heart racing and I couldn’t catch my breath. I called Sailor and he told me I probably needed to go to the hospital so they could monitor the baby.

Friends came over to watch the kids and I went to the ER. I was shocked when they immediately admitted me. I was sent to the maternal ICU and over the next two days had every single heart test possible. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me or my heart, but they were sure it was related to the pregnancy.

They finally sent me home with more pills and a prescription to take it easy for the rest of my pregnancy.

I’ve noticed that only doctors that don’t have any children tell women who have a couple of kids to “take it easy” during pregnancy.

I took it as easy as I could while homeschooling our two other children and chasing a toddler.

One evening when I was almost seven months pregnant I started down the stairs to say goodbye to Sailor and slipped on the second step. I flew up into the air and landed about six steps down right on my rear end on our wood stairs. It hurt so bad I couldn’t talk or even cry. I couldn’t catch my breath. I crawled back up the stairs and managed to get into my bed.

Sailor heard the noise and came up to find me curled in the bed. I tried to tell him what happened but I was in so much pain I could hardly get any words out. It wasn’t until I caught my breath that I noticed the pain in my leg and rear wasn’t my only problem. I looked up at Sailor and said…

“I think my water broke…”