Birthday

It is 30 days until my scheduled c-section for our last child. It's hard to believe that my 35th week was the week I delivered the girls. Here is their story...

I did infertility treatments for 2 years before I conceived my twins. I had a great pregnancy (other than the fact I got big and uncomfortable fast). I was placed on modified bedrest at 28 weeks because my blood pressure had been slightly elevated at one visit, so I had to leave my job early. It was never elevated again until two days before delivery. I went in for my 35 week appointment on a Tuesday, and my bp was sky high. I remember being shocked because I felt great. Honestly, the best I'd felt in weeks. Maybe I could just sense I was almost at the end. My OB sent me home on strict bedrest and told me to come back early in the morning on Thursday (as he was only coming in on Thursday to check on me. He was due to be out on vacation). When I went in on Thursday, I was 35 weeks 5 days. The doctor checked my urine and my blood pressure. Everything was back to normal. I have to admit, I was crushed. I know it sounds awful to hope for a premature delivery, but I was two days away from what is considered "full term" for twins, and I was carrying an 11 pound baby. As we were walking out of the office, I mentioned to my husband, "I'm getting a headache." The OB overheard that comment and said, "you know what, let's go ahead and get some blood work done." So I was sent off to the lab at the hospital for PIH panel and then went home for more bedrest.

At about 4:30 in the afternoon, I got a phone call from the OB's office. "Sarah, this is the midwife. Dr. M is on his way back to town, but he wanted me to call you. We've gotten your blood work back and you have really elevated liver enzymes in your blood. We're delivering you tomorrow morning. Be at the hospital at 5:00 am." I can tell you right now, my husband and I were doing the happy dance. In hindsight, I should have been more worried, but honestly, the only thought in my head was "no more heartburn!"

So at 5:00 am, I showed up for a c-section...not what I wanted, but I'd been prepared for it as my twins had been breech for the majority of the pregnancy. My parents and my MIL were also there. I was really nauseous, something I chalked up to nerves and an empty stomach, but we later discovered that I was in active labor. So, I guess the babies were coming whether we liked it or not! The nurse gave me reglan to drink, which caused even more vomiting. After a couple hours of monitoring, I was prepped for surgery. My c-section went pretty well. Grace was born first at 7:31 and Isabelle followed at 7:33. I wish I could say I remember everything that happened, but I'd had an allergic reaction to the medication they gave me, so I was in a Benadryl haze during the rest of the morning. I vaguely remember being taken to recovery and "overhearing" them say, "babies go to the room with mom." I was over the moon! No complications! At least...not at first. I was taken to my room, alone. My husband had come to talk to me and said that Isabelle was having a little trouble breathing so they were giving her oxygen. Grace wasn't holding her heat, but they thought she'd be in the room by the afternoon. I don't remember much until I started feeling my legs again...that's when I finally got to hold one of my twins..she'd been released from the NICU...I must have asked my husband 100 times where the other baby was because I didn't remember because of all the medication. When I told the nurse, "I can feel my leg" the on call ob prescribed demarol...I am allergic to painkillers, and on call didn't read my chart very carefully...I immediately broke into hives and began vomiting...I threw up the rest of the day...I was again doped up with benadryl and lost track of several hours...I struggled to feed Grace, and I spent most of my time looking at the picture the nurse brought me of Isabelle on the cpap machine. I thought if I could just stare at the picture long enough, she could somehow know I was thinking of her.

The following day I was able to get up and out of bed...having had no pain killers since the demoral incident, I was scared to move around, but I didn't have much pain. I wobbled into the NICU where I saw my Isabelle for the first time. I went alone. It was early in the morning, and my husband stayed with Grace in our room. I never told ANYONE this, but I thought a different baby was my baby because it looked more like Grace. The nurse explained to me that she was on a ventilator because she wasn't breathing on her own, she had an iv to give her antibiotics, she'd been given cerfactin to help her lungs absorb oxygen better...I wanted to die...Rita, the midwife, found me there sobbing...she held onto me until I was able to go back to my room for an exam...(even 3 years later I can't write this without crying)...Because I was still covered in welts and a rash, I was given more benadryl, which again, made me lose most of the next day. I vaguely remember going in to see the baby again, but being asked to leave because they were trying to get a line inserted into her belly button. I finally passed out in a haze of pain when the hospital social worker told my mom that I wasn't spending enough time with Isabelle in the NICU, and that I was being neglectful. Nevermind I had a baby in the room with me (who was having massive feeding issues of her own), and I was sick, and I was trying to pump and breastfeed...so, now I was neglecting a daughter I wasn't allowed to touch, hold, or even talk to because it made her upset (I was told later I'd been in the NICU 4 times, and each time I'd had to leave because of all the procedures they'd done...I'd been trying...)...The neonatologist found out what had been said, and I was assigned a different social worker...

Grace and I were discharged on Halloween. Isabelle was still on a ventilator. We then did the "baby shuffle." Drop Grace off with my mom, get to the hospital and sit with Isabelle. Go home, pick up Grace. Spend time with Grace. Drop Grace off with my mom. Go back spend time with Isabelle. I remember on the 9th day of Isabelle being on a ventilator, the thought, "she might not make it" came into my head. I have to admit that during this time I was SO angry with God. Nothing had come easily. It had been hard to get pregnant. The pregnancy had been hard. I'd had to have a c-section. The baby was sick. I know that I should've been thankful because it could've been so much worse, but at the time, I was having one heck of a pity party. As I sat there holding my baby's hand, the thought, "you need to sing praise songs" entered my head. I remember thinking, "but I don't feel like praising." And the thought continued, "but you don't worship because you feel like it, you worship because God is worthy." So, I sang. In the beginning, it was like that line of "Rain down" where it says, "my heart is dry, but still I'm singing." My heart was dry, but I sang anyway.

"I cry out, for your hand of mercy to heal me.
I am weak, and I need your love to free me.
Oh Lord, my rock, my strength in weakness
Come rescue me, Oh Lord.

You are my hope and your promise never fails me.
And my desire is to follow you forever.
For you are good, for you are good, for you are good to me"

I can't tell you how many times I sung that song. I know it was a lot. As we left the hospital, I sang the entire time home. The peace of the Lord surrounded me. The next morning, I called the NICU, and they had taken Isabelle off the ventilator. She was just getting a little oxygen through her nose. We were able to hold her and start feeding her. I don't know why I was granted the miracle when so many aren't, but I will claim it as a miracle. My daughter who was so sick was finally recovering. We still had our challenges, but she came home 19 days after her birth, and I can't imagine my life without her or her sister. They are truly my little blessings.