The Parent Trip: Lauren and Dennis Richardson of South Philadelphia

He was the guy with the deep voice and the hideous blue plaid sports jacket; she was the woman with the large, empathetic eyes and easygoing manner.

Lauren and Dennis were both 27, working for Beneficial Bank and living a freewheeling existence: Friday night happy hours, Saturday morning hangovers, their futures blissfully vague.

"We both had severe cases of arrested development," Lauren says now. "We still felt so young."

They figured on living together in a few years and getting married sometime after that. For the moment, a Caribbean cruise topped their agenda.

A week before that 2011 trip, Lauren suffered a hangover that felt different from the usual post-beer malaise. The two were shopping for travel-size toiletries when she noticed a stack of pregnancy tests on sale. Impulsively, she grabbed one.

Back at Lauren's grandmother's house, where she had moved in 2008 to save on rent and reduce her student debt, Lauren ducked into the bathroom. When she yelled to Dennis to come see the test result, he ran upstairs with a panicked look on his face and a plunger in his hand.

"I can't deal with this now," he said. "The kitchen sink is clogged."

It took five more drugstore tests and a doctor's visit to convince Lauren that she really was pregnant. On the cruise, she craved French fries but recoiled at the smell of them cooking. Only foods with a milder aroma would do: yogurt, apples, oranges.

One day, she lay in bed on the ship, queasy and miserable. Dennis brought over the ring they'd picked out in St. Thomas. It wasn't a single diamond, but a trinity; to Lauren, it symbolized past, present and future. He proposed. She said yes.

Once on solid ground, Lauren felt stronger. She took walks every day. She gobbled fruit. She lobbed possible names at Dennis; he rejected every one until she suggested "Jordan," like the character in the movie Cocktail.

An ultrasound at 37 weeks showed the baby was large, and Lauren's doctor advised a scheduled C-section. After some research about the risks facing large babies who must struggle through the birth canal, Lauren agreed. They arrived at Pennsylvania Hospital at 9 a.m. on Dec. 19; she couldn't eat because of the impending surgery, and Dennis had decided to fast with her, in solidarity.

"When Jordan came out, I heard all the nurses gasp. One said, 'I bet she's 11 pounds,' " Lauren recalls. "I thought: 'Is she a freak? Is she Godzilla baby?' " But Jordan was perfect - 10 pounds, 1 ounce, content to nestle in her father's arms and receive a kiss on the head from her mother.

Dennis, however, wasn't so fine. While Lauren was in the recovery room, he'd made a quick run to the hospital cafeteria for some pizza. Almost immediately, he turned pale and began to vomit. Then Lauren gulped some cold apple juice and also began throwing up.

"Dennis had food poisoning and had to stay away from us for two days. And I wasn't allowed to be alone, because I couldn't stand up and lift Jordan. That was a little much," Lauren says.

Back at home, Jordan cried and cried with colic and acid reflux. Lauren had always been someone who cherished sleep. But here was the surprise: She cherished the baby more. Dennis, too, felt a rapid shift of focus; he was no longer the center of his self-indulgent universe.

"It was an instant switch, to constantly caring what happens," he says. He'd been standoffish around Lauren's nieces and nephews and wasn't even sure he liked children. But he became so bonded with Jordan that one of Lauren's nieces asked, "Is Uncle Dennis the mommy? Because babies always like the mommy better."

When Jordan was 3 months old, the pair bought a house - just around the corner from Lauren's grandmother - then began saving for a wedding: a black-and-white color scheme and a theme of old movies, with tables named for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, On the Waterfront, and other favorite films. They set the date for Oct. 12, 2013.

But a few weeks before, Lauren nearly fainted while doing an exercise video. Jordan was 2. They were almost married. And she was pregnant again. They scheduled an early ultrasound for the day before the wedding and headed giddily for the doctor's office.

In the middle of the procedure, the tech left the room. She returned with a grim-faced physician. "They said an amniotic sac had formed, but the baby never grew. My body wasn't pregnant anymore," Lauren says.

They planned to keep the sorrow to themselves, but the following day, a tearful Lauren confided in her grandmother. "We sat on her bedroom floor, and I said, 'We can't do this. I don't want my wedding day to be the day we sat here and cried.' "

She and Dennis managed to relish the ceremony, reception and Las Vegas honeymoon. A few months later - once again, in the midst of planning a vacation - Lauren was pregnant. But this time was different: She'd lost 80 pounds on a low-carb diet and exercise routine since being pregnant with Jordan, and Declan's birth, also a scheduled C-section, was swift and easy. No one threw up.

Jordan is 3 now, strong-willed and independent. Declan ("Ducklin'," according to his sister) smiles at everyone. Lauren savors a memory of the first morning all four cuddled in bed together as Jordan tried everything to make her infant brother laugh, tickling him and playing peek-a-boo. Dennis says there's sweetness to every day, even the ones that begin at 5:30 a.m.

"Childless life involved way too many hangovers, way too much partying," he says. "Now I can say I fully enjoy my weekends - sitting on the couch with Declan on one side, Jordan on the other, watching some cartoon. Just serenity. This is what we got. This is what we wanted in the end."

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