A Birth Story – Part 2

Yesterday was the twins’ 4th birthday.  I decided to sit down and document our birth story to hopefully help others who are in the same situation or who might need some encouragement.  Grab yourself a cup of coffee and stay awhile…

If you didn’t read the first part of this series, click here.

I actually realized a few minutes ago,  I forgot an important piece of the story yesterday.  On the morning I went in for my second IUI, it had rained.  I was driving through town and saw a double rainbow… that connected to the ground on both ends.  Growing up, rainbows were a symbol that was important to our family.  It was God’s promise to love us forever.  How fitting, the day I was impregnated with twins, I saw a double rainbow.  I actually have a picture of it in the kids’ scrapbooks!

Alright, so back to the story. I remember calling Nana and telling her, “The heart beat of the baby is such and such.”  She replied something along the lines is that was good.  And, then I replied back “the heart beat of the other baby is such and such.”  I will never forget the dead silence on the other end of the line while standing in the hospital parking lot.  Then she started screaming.

Being pregnant with twins is not a walk in the park by any means.  I was miserable.  I was huge.  I had a very hard time finding clothes that fit comfortably– especially already being plus-sized.  I was sick to my stomach all the time.  The smell of coffee would send me running to the nearest bathroom.  Anything with red sauce gave me heart burn so bad, I thought I was going to die.

We continued to see our specialist for the first three months until it was determined the pregnancy was viable.  I was then referred back to my regular gynecologist.  Her, and a multiple-birth specialist, continued to manage my pregnancy.  At about 4 months, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and my previously-controlled blood pressure was out of control.

At 6 months, an ultrasound revealed placenta problems with Mo (but was actually Bo).  I was put on modified bed rest– I had to lie on my side for at least an hour each day and take rest periods/naps throughout the day. At the end of 6 months, I was confronted and berated by a manager at my job and I was so upset at my appointment that day I asked to be put on bed rest.  The specialist agreed immediately and signed the paperwork.

I was on complete bed rest– I was only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom and take a shower every other day.  The only time I was allowed to leave the house was for doctor’s appointments or blood tests.  I was told to eat– I honestly forget how many calories a day, but it was a ton.  But, it had to be healthy because I was diabetic.  I was pricking my finger 5 times a day to test my blood sugar.  I was taking my blood pressure three times a day.  AND, working full-time lying on the couch on my left side, as well as finishing up my bachelor’s degree in accounting.

On a Thursday, at 8.5 months, I went to a normal doctor’s check up.  My doctor decided that it would be best to send me to the hospital for steroid shots to help the babies’ lungs develop, just in case they came early.  This was a two day process– the shots had to be spaced 24 hours apart.  Liquid fire is the only way to describe the steroid shot.  It burned like hell.  I went back the second day for the second shot.  It wasn’t any better.

That Monday, I had a specialist appointment and an ultrasound.  Up until this point, I had plans to attempt a vaginal birth with both babies.  The Saturday before my Monday appointment… one of the babies decided to turn– I will not tell you how painful THAT was!  There isn’t a lot of room in your belly when you have two almost full-term babies.  We were on the way home from the ultrasound when my gynecologist called. She was eating lunch and apologized for calling during her lunch.  She had gotten the ultrasound results.  The placenta blood flow was very low.  She decided to not risk me being induced and attempting a vaginal birth.  I was instructed to be at the hospital at 11:00 am for a 1:00 c-section.

Everyone arrived at the hospital, the Hubs, Nana, Yia-yia, Grandpa G, Grandma M., Grandma P, and Aunt D.  They prepped me and wheeled me into the operating room.  Now, if you have never been in an operating room– they don’t look anything like they do on TV.  Mine was rather cramped due to the additional nurses and staff ready to take the babies and care for them in the NICU, if needed.

The anesthesiologist attempted to give me my spinal.  Five times.  As in, she inserted the needle in my spinal cord and didn’t get to where it needed to be.  Five times.

At this point, I was freaking out so bad that my gynecologist came in and took over for the nurse that was holding me still.  Amazingly, Dr. E. talked me through it and I was finally numb.

After that, the entire c-section went pretty quick.  I remember telling Dr. E. I could fill her cutting and she replied, “If you could feel the knife I am cutting you with right now, you’d be screaming.”

They pulled Mo out first– quiet as can be with her eyes open and taking in the world– at 1:25 pm.  They had to wrestle Bo out– he came out screaming his little head off– at 1:27.  Both were as healthy as could be and just a tad smaller than normal singleton babies.  I managed to carry the twins to full-term.  They didn’t even have to go to NICU!

twins in recovery

Three days later, we brought the miracles home.

twins in room

twins in room

And, now it is four years later.

 

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4 thoughts on “A Birth Story – Part 2

  1. I want to Thank you and Don for 2 beautiful kids. I know it was tough on both of you. You were very strong through it all. I didn’t want to know theirs names till they were born. Don introduced me to Troy Michael first, then to Morgan Ashleigh. With tears in both our eyes, I said hello for the first time. Was a beautiful moment. At that moment I knew they understood that Grandma M was holding them. Love all of you.

  2. I love a good birth story. Clearly, getting and being pregnant were serious trials for you. Thankfully, you are a strong woman. And, after all of that, you have even more than the normal, “I carried you for nine months” guilt to lavish upon your children as they get older. 🙂

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