After having several miscarriages and a challenging pregnancy with our middle child, I didn't rush to the doctor's when I suspected that I might be pregnant with my third child. Nor did I consent to any tests that had a risk of causing a miscarriage. Discussions of giving birth to a “special needs” child arose in my circle of family and friends, but it didn't matter to me, I was determined that I would love and care for a “special needs” child just as I did my other children.
Plans to induce were set in place, and wouldn't you know it, he was the only one of my children to “break their own water”. After about 15-16 hours on pitocin and the baby not going anywhere, he was becoming distressed and the decision was made to take him by cesarean. What an experience that was! Then, in the recovery room, I learned that he had a problem with his right kidney, as well as possible complications from either Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or was possibly Down syndrome. They would have to run tests.
There I was, stuck in the hospital bed, with my newborn son down in the NICU on an intubator to help keep his lungs clear. All I could cuddle was a doll (Call AM) that was given to me. It would be put into the incubator with my son so that he would learn, and be comforted by, his mother's scent. For 24 hours I was confined to my bed, too uncomfortable to sleep and unable to have my son with me; I wanted so much to be able to hold him close and breast feed him. I ran myself ragged the first few days to make sure that I was there for every feeding, and then understood that he would not be able to breast feed due to a muscle tone issue called “poor suck” ; he could not manage the muscles in his mouth and jaws well enough to suckle naturally. Meanwhile I felt anxiety while waiting for the test results; the thought that I could have caused my son's problems tore at me. I had had a few drinks during pregnancy, but was determined that our son was likely Down Syndrome, Trisomy 21.
I was in the hospital for nearly a week, but was forced to leave my son behind when I was released to go home. Unlike with my other children, when my son came home a nurse would come to the house once a week to work with me and my son. She was a wonderful help, educating me about my son's special needs. The information I received was invaluable, I learned many new ways to tend to my child. With most Down syndrome people, low muscle tone is an issue. Our nurse taught me the proper way to feed him - or any infant on a bottle. And I remembered seeing the NICU nurses feeding the infants there in the same manner. There was a certain technique to the feeding, proper hand and finger placement.
With my son's low muscle tone, I had to use the finger placement for every feeding, and one day he shot some formula out the side of his mouth. I began to try to think of ways to catch the spillage, so I ended up with an infant bib wrapped around the bottle - and my baby invention was born! But it wasn't until I spent another week in the hospital with my son, who had contracted the RSV virus, that the vision of where my invention would be most useful was revealed to me. As I watched the nurses feed the babies then “call” the formula intake, I realized that my product would close that “door” much more efficiently. I watched a nurse hold up the bottle and say “There were 4 ounces, now there are 2, so the baby got 2 ounces.” Then the aide would wipe the baby's face with a hospital blanket and toss it into the laundry. Thinking about formula “spilled” from the baby's mouth that wasn't actually taken in, I thought that the intake measurements were off. Wet diapers are weighed for the liquid contained in them to measure the output - there should be a method with which to weigh all of the formula - including that which leaves the bottle but doesn't make it into the baby's stomach. So I worked with my invention, and designed it from a disposable bed sheet and a diaper; this product can be weighed before feeding, and then after it has been used to catch spills and for cleaning the baby's face after feeding, to account for those “lost” ounces.
The first and only person I had shown my invention to, aside from my attorney, turned out to be disreputable. A crook. You see, I'm a rather literal person, so when this crook told me that the Patent office would be a stickler for filling out and sending in informational paperwork, I remembered that, and was very careful with the information I provided. And then one day I had a question about the paperwork and ended up contacting the USPTO, because I couldn't reach “The Guy” (the crook) to get an answer for my question. The Lord does work in mysterious ways; it was then that I learned just with whom I'd shared my invention. The examiner explained that “The Guy's” company was on their “black list”, and proceeded to educate me on the different types of patents, and told me to have a patent search conducted by an attorney. So I found an attorney and started the process in early 2003.
Throughout the patent application process, I amused my attorney with the power of the spoken word (talked his ear off). And when the examiner cited my application against 19 other patents I refuted them all successfully. Toward the end of 2005 I received my Patent B 6955272 from the Patent and Trade Office - and Collins Clan Company and was created!