There are so many things that I have learned since becoming a mother. Some of them are positive and some negative. I learn something new every day but some lessons stick in my head and are consistently reinforced as I move through my life with my kids.
I've learned that people are judgemental. VERY judgemental. They see me and think I'm just some dumb girl who didn't know how to keep her legs closed (and if you're wondering, yes, I've heard that comment before). I look young for my age. I'm 29 and look like I could pass for a high-schooler. I know that people see me differently when I'm out with my kids, especially now that I'm out with my kids and I'm not wearing a wedding ring. I've seen people's assumptions shattered by me also. I've seen them with a complete look of dread when I enter a store or a restaurant alone with my three active kiddos. I've then seen that look change to one of amazement by the time that we leave, too.
I've learned that my heart can hold more love than I ever knew was possible. I love my three wonderful children more and more every single day. It is an all consuming, amazingly magnificent, gloriously perfect kind of love. They really are my world.
I've learned that whether I like it or not, my mom really did know what she was talking about most of the time. I'm not saying ALL of the time. We still disagree about a few things but most of the time she can reason with me. ;-)
I've learned that the reason I slept so much as a teenager was in preparation for all the sleep deprivation I would experience as a mother. Eight straight hours would be like a drug right now people. I'm telling you. Drug.
I've learned that I really do have some common sense. Really. I do. I know if my munchkins are crying that I need to run through the list of things that could possibly be wrong. Diaper? Hungry? Thirsty? Temperature? Scratches, scrapes, or bruises? Toy missing? Sleepy? Confused? Needing some one-on-one attention? Missing somebody? Teething? Gas? Something wrong with your clothes? Ears hurting? Breathing issues (I have an asthmatic and the boys are prone to getting respiratory illnesses)? The list goes on but you get my idea. I've learned how to put my sleep-lacking brain to work and some days I'm just astonished at myself.
I've learned the things that trigger my temper (mostly because the kids have started to learn them really well, too) and how to control it better. I have had a short fuse almost my entire life but I've figured out some of the things that set me off and now I'm doing better about remedying the situation before it becomes enough to leave us all crying. Such as I know I can't handle lots of noise. When it gets too loud in my house, I start one child at a time and distract them from whatever it is they were doing to increase the decibel level. Once I get everyone content, I'm more content myself. I've also learned to redefine what I consider noise but that's a post all by itself.
I've learned that I would be willing to give up everything I've ever had and everything I'll ever get just to make sure my kids have the things they need in life.
I've learned that I'd die to protect each and every one of my children.
I've learned that I have a fury that burns so deep in me, it'd frighten people to see it. That fury burns at any person who would ever dare harm a child. I swear I see blood every time I hear another awful story of child abuse/neglect/death.
I've learned my purpose in this world was to bring these beautiful angels to life and raise them and love them with everything I have in me.
I've learned that you have to let go of your past when you become a parent. You aren't going to be that carefree and wild thing you were at some point in your life ever again (at least you won't be if you are any kind of attentive parent). We all learn from our experiences and I've learned from most of mine but I'll never regain those experiences. I can't experience the births of my babies again, the same way I can't experience my high school days again either.
I've learned that my kids won't necessarily appreciate my ironic sense of humor. I may even get told that I'm not funny all the time(there goes my career in comedy).
I've learned that there are truly only a few people I can rely on and they aren't necessarily the ones I thought I could in the beginning (and learning that I myself was someone I could rely on was a big shock. Who knew I would take to this parenting thing as eagerly as I did because I was scared shitless at the thought of it when that test popped up positive.)
I've learned that sometimes people are just compelled to touch babies. They can't stop themselves and you can't keep your kids in a bubble no matter how many times you've checked the prices of oxygen tanks and plastic mouldings.
I've learned that some things are just harder than others and you might as well get used to it now because they aren't going to get any easier.
I've learned that you can either let the worries and the regrets eat you alive or you can live life in the moment and enjoy what you have at that time. I chose to enjoy what I've got because as long as I can wrap my arms around my babies and hear their sweet laughter, I'm good.
I've learned that no matter how much I can't stand them, I turn into a cheerleader at least a dozen times every day. (Way to pee in the potty! You took another step! Yay! You put your sock in the dirty laundry ALL BY YOURSELF! Hip hip hooray!!! You wiped your own nose! And now you're wiping mine with the same tissue...oh, thankyouverymuch let mommy throw that away for you now really quickly before you wipe anymore snot on anyone else. You're so sweeeeeet!!!)
To say that I've been taught some hard lessons since the birth of my kids would be putting it mildly but I can honestly say that some of the sweetest things I've ever seen/heard/felt have all been experienced since becoming a mom. I wouldn't trade it for anything. ANYTHING.
**So, what is the first lesson that comes to mind when you think about what you've learned since becoming a mom or dad?
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
My First Birth Story, Part 4 (or how I ended up with twins...)
Here's the continuation of the story of the birth of my twins. Here's Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 for those of you who missed them.
That's when I heard the nurse announce "It's a boy!" followed by the tiniest little cry I've ever heard. He almost sounded like a lamb bleating. I could tell as they moved him to the isolette and began working with him. My guy was trying to fill me in on what he could see but with all the people surrounding him, he couldn't see much. I only heard him cry out two more times before they had to intubate him. My "Twin A" was here. Alive. I started bawling my eyes out the minute I heard him cry. My guy got some gauze pads from the anesthesiologist on the other side of my head and wiped my eyes for me so I could see him as they wheeled him out to the NICU.
Meanwhile, the doctors were still working on me. There was more "doctor speak" and suction sounds as they pulled my second twin from me. Everything got quiet again as the nurse said "It's another boy." much quieter than she had said it with "Twin A". It was like someone had sucked the oxygen out of the room. No one else made a sound. HE DIDN'T MAKE A SOUND. I strained to hear, praying he was going to cry. He never did. He was blue when they pulled him out. They immediately took him to the isolette and put the little mask with the bag over his face. The nurse pumped the bag rhythmically as the doctors worked on him. They intubated him and rubbed at his impossibly small chest. He started turning pink and by the time that they rushed past me with him in the isolette, he was an angry red color. I felt like I had held my breath that entire time. What seemed like an eternity was actually only two minutes. They were delivered at 4:27pm (Twin A) and 4:29pm (Twin B). They let my guy get up and see "Twin A" as they were prepping to take him to the NICU and he stole glances at "Twin B" as he was watching. They moved swiftly past us with "Twin B" without pausing to let me see him. I started crying even harder and begging someone to tell me what was going on. A doctor finally came over to me and told me while they were sewing me back up that he wasn't breathing when they got him out but that he was breathing through the respirator before they left with him. They told me he was being taken to the main NICU to be stabilized and once "Twin B" was set up, they would call for my guy to come and see them both. As they wheeled "Twin A" out, they paused and let me see his sweet face for just a moment. My guy came back over to me and I ask him which one looked like he fit the names we had picked out. He told me "Twin A" fit the first name we had chosen and "Twin B" fit the second name perfectly and so we decided then what their names would be.
My mom had arrived just as they were wheeling "Twin A" out the doors to take him to the NICU and they paused for just a moment to let her see him through the isolette but they never paused with "Twin B". He was here and he was alive. That was the most I could hope for at the time. They wheeled me to the recovery area and my guy joined me there for a few minutes and then switched out with my mom so she could come back and see me because they would only let one person be there at a time. I was so scared and so tired. All I could do was lay there and hold her hand and cry. I tried to get information from the nurses who came back and forth about the babies for the hour or so they had me there but no one knew anything. As I was in recovery, they finally came and got my guy and let him go to see the babies.
When he finally came back, he brought video of them to me. They were so tiny and so beautiful. He told me all about what the doctors and nurses in the NICU had told him. I was still scared to death for them though and I refused to go to sleep until I could see them. Everyone eventually began to drift out so that they could get set up for the night and come back in the morning to see the babies.
At about 10:00pm, I was in the room by myself as my guy was walking everyone out to their cars. I called for the nurse. When she came in I asked her if we could get me out of bed to change my padding and let me clean up a little. She asked me if my legs were still numb and I wiggled my feet to show her I could move them (what I didn't tell her was that my lower left leg was still completely numb but I had enough feeling in my upper leg to move my feet around some). She helped me sit up and moved my legs to the side of the bed. I pushed myself forward with my arms and together we got me into a standing position with me hunched over and barely shuffling my feet to get to the bathroom. Once she got me settled in the bathroom, she left and changed my bed and let me clean myself up a little bit. As soon as she walked out of the bathroom, I let out a shuddering breath. I had barely made it as far as I did but I wasn't about to tell her that. I took a minute to sit still and gather my strength and then I started cleaning up. She came back a few minutes later and brought me some supplies. When I thought I was ready, she helped me get back up. I had to pause on the way back to the bed because I thought I was going to hit the floor from the pain. Just as we stopped, my guy walked back in and almost had a heart attack at seeing me up on my feet. He helped the nurse get me back to the side of the bed and the nurse asked me what my pain was on a scale of one to ten. I said about a nine and she asked me when I had been given my pain medication. I just gave her a funny look and she almost had her own heart attack. She had just gotten me out of bed five and a half hours after a c-section, after my spinal block had mostly worn off, without any pain medicine. She made my guy stand directly in front of where I was sitting on the side of the bed and make sure I didn't fall off while she went to get me some medicine.
When she came back, she had about 3 other nurses with her who pretty much forced me back into the bed. I wanted them to bring me a wheelchair so I could go see my babies. They told me I wasn't going anywhere until at least my pain medicine had time to kick in. They put me back in the bed and made me stay for about 45 more minutes. As I waited, I grilled my guy about details of the babies. He answered my questions as best as he could and fussed on me for getting up when he wasn't in the room.
They finally brought me a wheelchair in and let my guy and my mom (who had only went to find something to eat) wheel me out to see my babies. The second time they got me up I had to have more help because I had worn myself out the first time. They rolled me over to see "Twin A" first. He was amazing. A head full of brown hair and the sweetest face. I cried my eyes out again at seeing all the wires and tubes hooked to him. He looked so helpless, it broke my heart that I couldn't hold him. I just wanted to wrap myself around him and keep him safe. I touched his tiny hand and talked to him and told him how happy I was to finally get to meet him and how much I loved him. When I was somewhat more assured that he was doing ok and had learned as much as I could from the nurses, I took another minute alone with him. I tried to memorize all 3 pounds and 10 ounces of him and then I finally let them wheel me away to see his brother.
When I made it to his brother, I was so scared. He was tiny. He was still that angry shade of red. I found out from the nurses that he looked so red because his skin was extremely thin from his prematurity and his growth restriction. His body had concentrated more on making his brain and his heart and his lungs and so his skin was still in the process of being finished. All of his nerve endings were basically right at the surface of his skin. He was wrinkled up like a little old man and had fuzzy blond hair so pale it was almost white. He was still covered with lanugo (which is the fine hair on babies in utero that keeps the amniotic fluid from bothering their skin as it develops). I barely touched his tiny foot and laid my hand over his small frame just faintly touching him to keep from hurting him. Since his nerves were so tender, you couldn't rub him at all. Too much contact would hurt him and make him uncomfortable and I would have died inside if I had thought I was hurting him. I only kept my hand on him a short time before I closed the door to his isolette so he wouldn't get cold. I sat next to him and told him how happy I was to meet him too and how much I loved him. He was still so beautiful to me, even with all of the wires and tubes attached to him. I tried to memorize all 1 pound and 7 ounces of him, too.
I spent every day that I was in the hospital going back and forth to see them both. The doctors took to coming in my room really early to check on me because I would stay gone as much as I could to see them. The day I was released, I cried my eyes out because I didn't want to leave them.
Here at this blog, you will hear the rest of the story of their lives as I tell it. I'll tell the stories of the days that they spent in the hospital and the different things that happen when you have infants in the NICU. I'll tell the stories of the days they came home and all the adventures we had once they were there.
The next story I have to tell is the birth of their little sister (another doozy but not near as scary as this one, I promise). I'll include pictures of them after their birth in another post since this one has gotten so long. Until then, here's a pic of all three munchkins to get you by.
Everyone have a great day!!!
That's when I heard the nurse announce "It's a boy!" followed by the tiniest little cry I've ever heard. He almost sounded like a lamb bleating. I could tell as they moved him to the isolette and began working with him. My guy was trying to fill me in on what he could see but with all the people surrounding him, he couldn't see much. I only heard him cry out two more times before they had to intubate him. My "Twin A" was here. Alive. I started bawling my eyes out the minute I heard him cry. My guy got some gauze pads from the anesthesiologist on the other side of my head and wiped my eyes for me so I could see him as they wheeled him out to the NICU.
Meanwhile, the doctors were still working on me. There was more "doctor speak" and suction sounds as they pulled my second twin from me. Everything got quiet again as the nurse said "It's another boy." much quieter than she had said it with "Twin A". It was like someone had sucked the oxygen out of the room. No one else made a sound. HE DIDN'T MAKE A SOUND. I strained to hear, praying he was going to cry. He never did. He was blue when they pulled him out. They immediately took him to the isolette and put the little mask with the bag over his face. The nurse pumped the bag rhythmically as the doctors worked on him. They intubated him and rubbed at his impossibly small chest. He started turning pink and by the time that they rushed past me with him in the isolette, he was an angry red color. I felt like I had held my breath that entire time. What seemed like an eternity was actually only two minutes. They were delivered at 4:27pm (Twin A) and 4:29pm (Twin B). They let my guy get up and see "Twin A" as they were prepping to take him to the NICU and he stole glances at "Twin B" as he was watching. They moved swiftly past us with "Twin B" without pausing to let me see him. I started crying even harder and begging someone to tell me what was going on. A doctor finally came over to me and told me while they were sewing me back up that he wasn't breathing when they got him out but that he was breathing through the respirator before they left with him. They told me he was being taken to the main NICU to be stabilized and once "Twin B" was set up, they would call for my guy to come and see them both. As they wheeled "Twin A" out, they paused and let me see his sweet face for just a moment. My guy came back over to me and I ask him which one looked like he fit the names we had picked out. He told me "Twin A" fit the first name we had chosen and "Twin B" fit the second name perfectly and so we decided then what their names would be.
My mom had arrived just as they were wheeling "Twin A" out the doors to take him to the NICU and they paused for just a moment to let her see him through the isolette but they never paused with "Twin B". He was here and he was alive. That was the most I could hope for at the time. They wheeled me to the recovery area and my guy joined me there for a few minutes and then switched out with my mom so she could come back and see me because they would only let one person be there at a time. I was so scared and so tired. All I could do was lay there and hold her hand and cry. I tried to get information from the nurses who came back and forth about the babies for the hour or so they had me there but no one knew anything. As I was in recovery, they finally came and got my guy and let him go to see the babies.
When he finally came back, he brought video of them to me. They were so tiny and so beautiful. He told me all about what the doctors and nurses in the NICU had told him. I was still scared to death for them though and I refused to go to sleep until I could see them. Everyone eventually began to drift out so that they could get set up for the night and come back in the morning to see the babies.
At about 10:00pm, I was in the room by myself as my guy was walking everyone out to their cars. I called for the nurse. When she came in I asked her if we could get me out of bed to change my padding and let me clean up a little. She asked me if my legs were still numb and I wiggled my feet to show her I could move them (what I didn't tell her was that my lower left leg was still completely numb but I had enough feeling in my upper leg to move my feet around some). She helped me sit up and moved my legs to the side of the bed. I pushed myself forward with my arms and together we got me into a standing position with me hunched over and barely shuffling my feet to get to the bathroom. Once she got me settled in the bathroom, she left and changed my bed and let me clean myself up a little bit. As soon as she walked out of the bathroom, I let out a shuddering breath. I had barely made it as far as I did but I wasn't about to tell her that. I took a minute to sit still and gather my strength and then I started cleaning up. She came back a few minutes later and brought me some supplies. When I thought I was ready, she helped me get back up. I had to pause on the way back to the bed because I thought I was going to hit the floor from the pain. Just as we stopped, my guy walked back in and almost had a heart attack at seeing me up on my feet. He helped the nurse get me back to the side of the bed and the nurse asked me what my pain was on a scale of one to ten. I said about a nine and she asked me when I had been given my pain medication. I just gave her a funny look and she almost had her own heart attack. She had just gotten me out of bed five and a half hours after a c-section, after my spinal block had mostly worn off, without any pain medicine. She made my guy stand directly in front of where I was sitting on the side of the bed and make sure I didn't fall off while she went to get me some medicine.
When she came back, she had about 3 other nurses with her who pretty much forced me back into the bed. I wanted them to bring me a wheelchair so I could go see my babies. They told me I wasn't going anywhere until at least my pain medicine had time to kick in. They put me back in the bed and made me stay for about 45 more minutes. As I waited, I grilled my guy about details of the babies. He answered my questions as best as he could and fussed on me for getting up when he wasn't in the room.
They finally brought me a wheelchair in and let my guy and my mom (who had only went to find something to eat) wheel me out to see my babies. The second time they got me up I had to have more help because I had worn myself out the first time. They rolled me over to see "Twin A" first. He was amazing. A head full of brown hair and the sweetest face. I cried my eyes out again at seeing all the wires and tubes hooked to him. He looked so helpless, it broke my heart that I couldn't hold him. I just wanted to wrap myself around him and keep him safe. I touched his tiny hand and talked to him and told him how happy I was to finally get to meet him and how much I loved him. When I was somewhat more assured that he was doing ok and had learned as much as I could from the nurses, I took another minute alone with him. I tried to memorize all 3 pounds and 10 ounces of him and then I finally let them wheel me away to see his brother.
When I made it to his brother, I was so scared. He was tiny. He was still that angry shade of red. I found out from the nurses that he looked so red because his skin was extremely thin from his prematurity and his growth restriction. His body had concentrated more on making his brain and his heart and his lungs and so his skin was still in the process of being finished. All of his nerve endings were basically right at the surface of his skin. He was wrinkled up like a little old man and had fuzzy blond hair so pale it was almost white. He was still covered with lanugo (which is the fine hair on babies in utero that keeps the amniotic fluid from bothering their skin as it develops). I barely touched his tiny foot and laid my hand over his small frame just faintly touching him to keep from hurting him. Since his nerves were so tender, you couldn't rub him at all. Too much contact would hurt him and make him uncomfortable and I would have died inside if I had thought I was hurting him. I only kept my hand on him a short time before I closed the door to his isolette so he wouldn't get cold. I sat next to him and told him how happy I was to meet him too and how much I loved him. He was still so beautiful to me, even with all of the wires and tubes attached to him. I tried to memorize all 1 pound and 7 ounces of him, too.
I spent every day that I was in the hospital going back and forth to see them both. The doctors took to coming in my room really early to check on me because I would stay gone as much as I could to see them. The day I was released, I cried my eyes out because I didn't want to leave them.
Here at this blog, you will hear the rest of the story of their lives as I tell it. I'll tell the stories of the days that they spent in the hospital and the different things that happen when you have infants in the NICU. I'll tell the stories of the days they came home and all the adventures we had once they were there.
The next story I have to tell is the birth of their little sister (another doozy but not near as scary as this one, I promise). I'll include pictures of them after their birth in another post since this one has gotten so long. Until then, here's a pic of all three munchkins to get you by.
Everyone have a great day!!!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
My First Birth Story, Part 3 (or how I ended up with twins...)
Here I am again...trying to finish this birth story. This story that takes my breath away and leaves me thrilled all at once. Here's Part 1 and Part 2 for those of you who may have missed them.
It happened again.
Twin B's heart rate dropped below the line several more times as I watched the screen with a mix of fascination and horror. I reached up and laid my hand on the ultrasound tech's arm so she would look at me. I asked her if she thought it was time for them to deliver. She said she was going to show the results to the doctors but that she was pretty sure it would happen today.
My heart pounded in my ears. Thirty weeks. THIRTY WEEKS. It was too soon. They were so tiny. I was SO. DAMN. SCARED.
The ultrasound tech finished up and gave me some more pictures. As soon as she left the room, I called my guy and filled him in on what was going on. He left work and was headed back to the hospital before I could even tell him that I hadn't heard from the doctors yet. I hung up with him and called my mom.
I asked her if she had unpacked from the prior weekend when she came to visit me and she said, "No, why?". I told her it looked like they were going to deliver them that day and she was telling her boss she had to go so she could get home and grab her stuff before I could get much more out. She was scared. I was scared. The whole conversation was a bit of a mess because I didn't have much information and as I was telling her about the ultrasound the doctor came in the room. I hung up and from the look on his face, I knew he meant business.
He sat on the edge of my bed, looked me in the eyes, and told me that we were definitely going to deliver them that day. He had booked the operating room and was needing to know when I had last ate (8am that morning). They had to wait 8 hours after I ate before they could deliver me. They scheduled me for delivery at 4pm.
My guy had arrived and was set to the task of gathering up all of our random stuff from 4 weeks of living in a hospital room and moving it to the room that would be mine after the babies were delivered. As he was moving our belongings, I was moved into a room in the Labor and Delivery area and hooked to monitors to watch the babies' heart rates. I was put on another IV and prepped for the c-section (code for: some strange women shaved part of my hoo-ha hair off while my guy watched and laughed)(not his idea of a kinky fetish, I guess). I was on the phone with my mom and crying part of the time and stressed out. I had to deal with my guy's aunt (who was the only relative who wasn't over 6 hours of driving time away)(and who was also very annoying and several other things I won't mention here).
Whenever I could get a quiet moment in the six or so hours that I spent in L&D waiting, I would turn the volume up on the heart rate monitor and listen to their hearts beat and them move around. I was so stressed out that I was having contractions again and when I would contract, the heart rates would literally disappear. It sounded like that recording you hear on random shows where it just slows to a stop (swoosh, swoosh, swoooosh, swoooooosh, *silence for several seconds as I tried not to hold my breath and breathe through the contractions*) then it would just pick back up as the contractions eased off. (Did you hold your breath reading that? I did.) These instances, of course, made me freak out even more.
Finally, they came to get me. They took my guy in one direction to put him in his space suit and rolled my bed back through a set of double doors the other direction and into a room full of people. I looked around as they rolled me in. There were two isolettes (baby incubators) with two nurses and a pediatrician to each one, the doctor who delivered me, the doctor who sewed me up, two anesthesiologists, two nurses who assisted my doctors, and a couple of med students against the wall. (If you were keeping count, that's 14 people plus myself and my guy later. 16 people in one tiny room). I was sat up long enough to put my spinal block in, and as they laid me back down they realized I wasn't centered on the table. I picked my leg up long enough to lift my butt so they could scoot me over and then they had to lay my leg back down for me because I couldn't feel it.
My guy was walked in, placed on a tiny round stool next to my head, and told not to touch anything blue (sterile stuff). He looked so surreal to me in that outfit they put him in. He tried to hold my hand but where it was strapped down to the "T-shaped" table he couldn't really hold it so he sat beside me with his hands in his lap most of the time. They poked me with a toothpick to see if I was numb and when they were certain I couldn't feel anything, they began the c-section.
I heard lots of "doctor talk" and could feel lots of motion as they cut, tugged, and pulled at my insides to get the babies out. I could understand most of what they said, but there came a point when everything got as quiet as a silent prayer. Then I heard it...
To be continued...
It happened again.
Twin B's heart rate dropped below the line several more times as I watched the screen with a mix of fascination and horror. I reached up and laid my hand on the ultrasound tech's arm so she would look at me. I asked her if she thought it was time for them to deliver. She said she was going to show the results to the doctors but that she was pretty sure it would happen today.
My heart pounded in my ears. Thirty weeks. THIRTY WEEKS. It was too soon. They were so tiny. I was SO. DAMN. SCARED.
The ultrasound tech finished up and gave me some more pictures. As soon as she left the room, I called my guy and filled him in on what was going on. He left work and was headed back to the hospital before I could even tell him that I hadn't heard from the doctors yet. I hung up with him and called my mom.
I asked her if she had unpacked from the prior weekend when she came to visit me and she said, "No, why?". I told her it looked like they were going to deliver them that day and she was telling her boss she had to go so she could get home and grab her stuff before I could get much more out. She was scared. I was scared. The whole conversation was a bit of a mess because I didn't have much information and as I was telling her about the ultrasound the doctor came in the room. I hung up and from the look on his face, I knew he meant business.
He sat on the edge of my bed, looked me in the eyes, and told me that we were definitely going to deliver them that day. He had booked the operating room and was needing to know when I had last ate (8am that morning). They had to wait 8 hours after I ate before they could deliver me. They scheduled me for delivery at 4pm.
My guy had arrived and was set to the task of gathering up all of our random stuff from 4 weeks of living in a hospital room and moving it to the room that would be mine after the babies were delivered. As he was moving our belongings, I was moved into a room in the Labor and Delivery area and hooked to monitors to watch the babies' heart rates. I was put on another IV and prepped for the c-section (code for: some strange women shaved part of my hoo-ha hair off while my guy watched and laughed)(not his idea of a kinky fetish, I guess). I was on the phone with my mom and crying part of the time and stressed out. I had to deal with my guy's aunt (who was the only relative who wasn't over 6 hours of driving time away)(and who was also very annoying and several other things I won't mention here).
Whenever I could get a quiet moment in the six or so hours that I spent in L&D waiting, I would turn the volume up on the heart rate monitor and listen to their hearts beat and them move around. I was so stressed out that I was having contractions again and when I would contract, the heart rates would literally disappear. It sounded like that recording you hear on random shows where it just slows to a stop (swoosh, swoosh, swoooosh, swoooooosh, *silence for several seconds as I tried not to hold my breath and breathe through the contractions*) then it would just pick back up as the contractions eased off. (Did you hold your breath reading that? I did.) These instances, of course, made me freak out even more.
Finally, they came to get me. They took my guy in one direction to put him in his space suit and rolled my bed back through a set of double doors the other direction and into a room full of people. I looked around as they rolled me in. There were two isolettes (baby incubators) with two nurses and a pediatrician to each one, the doctor who delivered me, the doctor who sewed me up, two anesthesiologists, two nurses who assisted my doctors, and a couple of med students against the wall. (If you were keeping count, that's 14 people plus myself and my guy later. 16 people in one tiny room). I was sat up long enough to put my spinal block in, and as they laid me back down they realized I wasn't centered on the table. I picked my leg up long enough to lift my butt so they could scoot me over and then they had to lay my leg back down for me because I couldn't feel it.
My guy was walked in, placed on a tiny round stool next to my head, and told not to touch anything blue (sterile stuff). He looked so surreal to me in that outfit they put him in. He tried to hold my hand but where it was strapped down to the "T-shaped" table he couldn't really hold it so he sat beside me with his hands in his lap most of the time. They poked me with a toothpick to see if I was numb and when they were certain I couldn't feel anything, they began the c-section.
I heard lots of "doctor talk" and could feel lots of motion as they cut, tugged, and pulled at my insides to get the babies out. I could understand most of what they said, but there came a point when everything got as quiet as a silent prayer. Then I heard it...
To be continued...
Thursday, April 1, 2010
My First Birth Story, Part 2 (or how I ended up with twins...)
In case you missed it, here's Part 1.
Every other week I drove into downtown to the office and waited impatiently. When my name was called, I would jump up (as much as a half-sick, hugely pregnant woman can jump). I would waddle back to the office and get all goo-ed up. I became so used to watching the ultrasounds and measurements, etc. that I was quickly picking up what was good and what was bad.
At 24 weeks there was some concern related to the heart rate of Twin B (who by then had become noticeably smaller than his brother). I was questioned about my daily habits, how often I walked any major distances, etc. It was decided that I needed to be placed on non-stress tests 3 times a week. I would go to a different office, sit in a reclining chair and have monitors wrapped around me to track the babies' heart rates for 1 hour every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
I became so familiar with that equipment that I could put the monitors on myself and keep them placed where they needed to be to track the heartbeats, even if the babies shifted around. Just as I was getting to know the technicians, I had my next ultrasound two weeks later.
I had been tired and having some infrequent contractions for several weeks (only I didn't know they were contractions at the time. More on that later.) They started doing the measurements. Twin A, head circumference. Check. Bone measurements. Check. Four heart chambers. Check. Heart rate. Check. All good. Twin B, head circumference. Check. Bone measurements. Check. Repeat. (Oh, shit.) Four heart chambers...for a few minutes. Check. (Oh, shhhhiiiitttt.) Heart rate. The line measuring the rate dropped below the its-not-good-to-under-this-line mark at least six times while I was watching. My pulse rate went through the roof. A doctor was called in. Another doctor was called in. The second doctor looked at me and said, "Well, it looks like we may be having twins today.". I was dumbfounded with shock. The ultrasound technician got me cleaned off and up, then personally walked me over to labor and delivery in the hospital next door. I was given the usual hospital gown and asked to change. When the nurses left me alone, I immediately called my guy to tell him that the shit had hit the fan and he needed to get to the hospital immediately. He was working just a few minutes away so I gave him the room number and he was there in no time.
I changed and was hooked up to the monitors again. A doctor came in and told me that they were going to monitor me and give me the first round of steroids to boost their lungs. They put in an IV and started me on fluids because I seemed dehydrated. I was doing my best to restrain my emotions (which were going crazy) and when they came in with the shots to put in my IV, I lost it. By this time, I had called my mom and told her what was going on. We weren't sure if she needed to come down or not so she was on standby awaiting a call. I spent several hours in labor and delivery as different doctors came in and examined my readings. One came in and did a pelvic to make sure I wasn't dilating because I had been having some contractions as they were monitoring me. (I wasn't dilating. I never did, either.)
After a while, it was decided that they were going to monitor me on a day by day basis and not deliver them that day. (THANK GOD.) I was moved to a hospital room and told I was only allowed up to go to the bathroom. When it came time for me to shower, I had to sit on the bench in the shower because I wasn't allowed to stand for that long. I spent four weeks in the hospital being hooked to monitors twice a day. I had an ultrasound once a week. The fourth week, the ultrasound technician came in and got everything ready as usual. I scooted around in the bed to get to where she needed me to get the best readings. That's when it happened...
To be continued...
Every other week I drove into downtown to the office and waited impatiently. When my name was called, I would jump up (as much as a half-sick, hugely pregnant woman can jump). I would waddle back to the office and get all goo-ed up. I became so used to watching the ultrasounds and measurements, etc. that I was quickly picking up what was good and what was bad.
At 24 weeks there was some concern related to the heart rate of Twin B (who by then had become noticeably smaller than his brother). I was questioned about my daily habits, how often I walked any major distances, etc. It was decided that I needed to be placed on non-stress tests 3 times a week. I would go to a different office, sit in a reclining chair and have monitors wrapped around me to track the babies' heart rates for 1 hour every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
I became so familiar with that equipment that I could put the monitors on myself and keep them placed where they needed to be to track the heartbeats, even if the babies shifted around. Just as I was getting to know the technicians, I had my next ultrasound two weeks later.
I had been tired and having some infrequent contractions for several weeks (only I didn't know they were contractions at the time. More on that later.) They started doing the measurements. Twin A, head circumference. Check. Bone measurements. Check. Four heart chambers. Check. Heart rate. Check. All good. Twin B, head circumference. Check. Bone measurements. Check. Repeat. (Oh, shit.) Four heart chambers...for a few minutes. Check. (Oh, shhhhiiiitttt.) Heart rate. The line measuring the rate dropped below the its-not-good-to-under-this-line mark at least six times while I was watching. My pulse rate went through the roof. A doctor was called in. Another doctor was called in. The second doctor looked at me and said, "Well, it looks like we may be having twins today.". I was dumbfounded with shock. The ultrasound technician got me cleaned off and up, then personally walked me over to labor and delivery in the hospital next door. I was given the usual hospital gown and asked to change. When the nurses left me alone, I immediately called my guy to tell him that the shit had hit the fan and he needed to get to the hospital immediately. He was working just a few minutes away so I gave him the room number and he was there in no time.
I changed and was hooked up to the monitors again. A doctor came in and told me that they were going to monitor me and give me the first round of steroids to boost their lungs. They put in an IV and started me on fluids because I seemed dehydrated. I was doing my best to restrain my emotions (which were going crazy) and when they came in with the shots to put in my IV, I lost it. By this time, I had called my mom and told her what was going on. We weren't sure if she needed to come down or not so she was on standby awaiting a call. I spent several hours in labor and delivery as different doctors came in and examined my readings. One came in and did a pelvic to make sure I wasn't dilating because I had been having some contractions as they were monitoring me. (I wasn't dilating. I never did, either.)
After a while, it was decided that they were going to monitor me on a day by day basis and not deliver them that day. (THANK GOD.) I was moved to a hospital room and told I was only allowed up to go to the bathroom. When it came time for me to shower, I had to sit on the bench in the shower because I wasn't allowed to stand for that long. I spent four weeks in the hospital being hooked to monitors twice a day. I had an ultrasound once a week. The fourth week, the ultrasound technician came in and got everything ready as usual. I scooted around in the bed to get to where she needed me to get the best readings. That's when it happened...
To be continued...
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