Sunday, December 16, 2012

Part 4: The day the twyns arrived

last bit of the story...

It was a Friday.

I will never forget this, because hubby was coming home on Thursday nights throughout the pregnancy, and I spent the entire night asking him if his Blackberry was in the bed. I was feeling it vibrate.

It wasn't his Blackberry, it was my boobs.

They were getting ready. They knew before the rest of me did.

The next day, MIL and I settled down for a lazy afternoon, and she started to get ready for her drive home. Her shift was coming to an end. 
This was taken about 5 minutes before my water broke. I loved those pants.
Hubby came home for lunch. It was real hard; he walked across the parking lot.  Baby A or Baby B must've heard his voice and decided to

POP!
"OWWw. Someone just kicked me in the bone."
I get up to pee.

I come out of the bathroom.
"Babe."
The next thirty minutes was a mad dash talking to the doc on the phone, my mom, somehow grabbing my lucky earrings [the ones my mom bought me on my birthday about six 1/2 months earlier, and about 1 week before our IVF treatment] and oh yeah - the camera - even though this was not the day. Certainly, doc said, they'll stop the labor. Certainly, I'll be on bedrest in the hospital for 4-6 weeks. Certainly, the babies will not be coming today. We wanted 32 weeks. We wanted 2009 babies.

We get in the car. MIL in the backseat. She is rubbing my shoulder for emotional support, but probably does not realize that her anxiety overtakes her 95-pound frame in these situations and she is actually pounding my back with a thud THUD thud THUD thud THUD!!

I tell hubby I feel "cramping." And about five minutes later, "I'm feeling more cramps." He looks at his watch. It is raining a coooold rain outside. They say it is going to snow.


It was a Nor'easter, in fact.
[don't birth stories always involve some type of calamitous weather?!]
My mother was in New York and wanted to know if she should get on a train immediately.
But hubby said, and doc said, I am not giving birth on this day.

But I was.

I watch the rain on the car window. I start to cry.
"It's too early."
Hubby: "You are not giving birth today. Doc said."

We spent some time in triage, then they wheeled me past the nurses station to a twin birth room [two warming pads and extra room for the thirty staff members who were eventually going to join us.] The nurses all looked at me.

I start to cry. They know.

They give me a drug drip to stop the labor.

A sono tech comes in to make sure the babies are still behaving normally. She needs to report back to the Perinatologist before any decisions can be made. Baby B was swimming fine, but Baby A...
"I can't find Baby A's head."
I'm doubling over in pain. I think the sono wand is somehow hurting me, but this can't be possible. I grab hubby's arm and tell him the next time the doc comes in, to tell her I think I need more labor-stopping drugs.
He's like, ok whatever, lady. [he now says he will never doubt me again]
Doc comes in and figures out why the sono tech can't find Baby A's head:  it's already crowning.

I give birth to our precious girl.  As quick as you read the sentence. She comes out screaming, thank God.

They stop to assess whether Baby B's water has broken. Maybe Baby B can stay and nab a different birth day.

I want to PUSH. They say wait.

The nurse says something to the effect of, "A lot of women would not be able to do what you are doing right now."

I don't question the what, but I wonder why. I was very naive. But, aren't we all our first time? I later learn that you are not supposed to give birth in this way, at this time. The babies are not strong enough to handle it. Baby A decided she was.

22 minutes later, and precisely four hours after my water first broke in the temporary apartment, our little boy comes into this world, blue and non-responsive.

Dr. Carter gives him some magic called surfactant, and our little boy starts a-wailing. Our baby boy. 


They let me hold each baby, kiss their noses, and whisk them away to the NICU. They would stay for 6 (B-boy) and 8 weeks (A-girl). Tough fight for them, easy birth for mommy. I'd give anything to have it the other way. I immediately ask for a do-over.

The perinatologist walks in.
"Oh good. I was going to tell you to go ahead and give birth anyway."
Thanks, Captain A$$hole Obvious.
 
My mom did eventually make it through the storm.
There's much more of the story- many ups and downs- a whole mess of drama when February 17th finally rolled around and little girl and I drove like Thelma and Louise out of the hospital parking lot alone to finally make our family complete.


But I'm not going to drag you into this mess anymore!

Maybe sometime, for the twin-mommies-to-be, I'll post a typical NICU day post- although, frankly, there is no typical day in the NICU. 

Maybe sometime, I can talk about the jealousy I felt [and still feel] every time I see a woman being wheeled out of the hospital with babes-in-arms.

Maybe sometime, you would like to hear about how hubby's birthday (February 16th) was ruined and how he got thrown out of the NICU.

But that roller coaster - it's just family life. 


Sweet. family. life.


Hallelujah. 

[and thanks for listening]




7 comments:

  1. Love the happy ending, as a bonus it's years later everyone in the family is still healthy.

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  2. Did you name Carter after Dr. Carter? I love reading your blog Ash. Sometime, I want to hear about the NICU days.

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    1. Aw thanks! We didn't name him after Dr Carter, but we liked the coincidence since we had the name years before. :)

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  3. Did you name Carter after Dr. Carter? I love reading your blog Ash. Sometime, I want to hear about the NICU days.

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  4. Did you name Carter after Dr. Carter? I love reading your blog Ash. Sometime, I want to hear about the NICU days.

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  5. I too, would love to hear the rest of the story. Because I feel like such a shmuck that after knowing you for 4 years, I didn't know this sooner. And even though we had less drama comparitively, I too still feel bitter sometimes about the experiences I missed, like snuggling with my babies in my hospital room, or bringing them home with me when I was released. But I think the adversity is what makes them all the more precious and unique. Just like your gorgeous children. :)

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    Replies
    1. Aw thanks. Clearly it's hard to talk about! But it does help to share :)

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