Few Answering Quintuplets' Needy Cries
Eight packages of Pampers were on the kitchen counter. Not enough. Several containers of infant formula were in the refrigerator. Not enough. Five used car seats were stacked on the dining room floor -- but the family car is not big enough to hold them all.
Welcome home, Davis quintuplets.
"We're just taking it day-to-day," said Jennell Dickens, 22, their mother. Noval Davis, their 26-year-old father, gave her a supportive nod. "We're okay for now," he said.
Not really. Three of the infants have been released from the University of Maryland Medical Center, and the other two are due home this week -- "home" being a one-bedroom apartment in Baltimore. Hardly big enough.
In years past, the birth of quintuplets has generated an enormous amount of publicity and support. Caring for five infants requires roughly 85 cases of formula, 1,200 disposable diapers and, later down the road, 1,500 jars of baby food each month. The babies need feeding and changing 22 hours out of 24, in addition to hugging and burping. Companies usually donate all the baby products and volunteers step in to provide services from housecleaning to nursing care.
But none of that has happened for Dickens and Davis. Except for the help of a few family members and friends, they are pretty much on their own.
Part of the problem was the initial media coverage of the Sept. 21 births. A 22-year-old woman has five babies after taking fertility drugs. As word of the births spread, some bloggers who monitor births online -- supposedly for the purpose of helping to find resources -- began mocking the names that Dickens had chosen for the babies: JaMir Amare, a boy, and his sisters, Si'ani Ritay, NaRae Dimetria, Jade Na'Liyah and Rayne Anye.
Each weighed between 1 3/4 and three pounds.
But there was more to the story. Dickens had suffered from a hormone imbalance since she was a teenager. Her body could not produce estrogen. She could not get pregnant. But what bothered her most was the severe skin problem caused by the hormonal imbalance. Her doctors put her on several medications, which provided temporary relief, before coming up with what was supposed to be the cure: a fertility drug called Clomid.
"I was told there was a chance I could get pregnant, but I became pregnant almost instantly, after less than a week of treatment, which is not common," Dickens recalled during my recent visit.
She and Davis have known each other since junior high school. She was employed as an administrative assistant at the University of Maryland Medical Center, he had a job at a warehouse. They figured they could handle a baby, and, Dickens noted, their talks about getting married took on a new urgency.
During her first prenatal visit, she learned that there was more than one heart beating in her womb. A lot more.