I have been meaning to type this all out for quite awhile now, and since Abbey is fast asleep in Auntie Natalie's arms, and Lucas in his Daddy's, I figure there is no time like the present. I have closed myself in our bedroom with the laptop, some jumbo red vines and a tall glass of water. It's gonna be a long one, and probably not of interest to many people, but I need to do this. I need to write it all out, and process it fully. I think that will help bring healing. Here goes...
The night before we went into the hospital was a strange one. It's hard to know exactly what to do with yourself on your last night of not being a parent. I remember thinking I should go to bed early, but also feeling like I should stay up and take it all in. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, recognizing that might be the last time I ever saw myself pregnant.
That night after I crawled into bed (around midnight), the babies put on a show for me. They moved and squirmed and danced with such vigor, I remember just laying there amazed. I felt like they were saying "we're ready Momma!"
The alarm went off at 3:30am, as we were supposed to check into the hospital at 5:00am. I showered and got ready, and Dave packed up the van. Before we left, my sister Emily who was staying here held hands with us and we prayed for a safe delivery and healthy babies...
...Drive to hospital, try not to focus on how surreal this all is. Check in. Change into gown. Medical history gone over. Hook up heart monitors to "baby A" (Luke) and "baby B" (Abbey). Have a hard time keeping baby B in range, have to keep moving the monitor. I tell the nurse "she is stubborn...but to tell you the truth I kinda dig that about her". IV's hooked up, my very first IV ever. Not as bad as I feared. Giant water bottle handed to me. Pitocin started. Around 9:00am, doctor is on her way. Dilation checked. Cervix is not "aligned
with the birth canal", hard to locate at first. Oh wow that is painful...I may be in for a long road here... only dilated to 2. Ugh. Doctor arrives, breaks Luke's water. That's a strange sensation. Contractions have been off and on for awhile (days?), just starting to feel them. Not so bad. Around noon some family arrives, they come in to say hello, and stay to chat until I have to get up to use the restroom...backless gown and all. Dilation checked again at about 1:30pm, at about a 5. Making progress. Contractions picking up in intensity. And frequency. Soon I am having contractions every 90 seconds.
*****
I had always wanted to have a natural birth. Always. We had discussed this with my doctor at our 8 week appointment. It had been the plan for the majority of the pregnancy. Then at about 32 weeks my doctor brought it up at a routine visit. She was very careful about it, and gently advised we consider an epidural. Her reasoning was this: I was high risk for needing a c-section, for either one or both babies. If one of the babies went into distress, and an emergency c-section was needed, they would not have time to administer an epidural, and I would have to be put under general anesthesia. Dr. K gently stressed that although this situation is likely in any labor, in my case it was double the odds as I was having two deliveries. She commented that although both babies were head down, if for some reason Abbey flipped after Luke came out and she was unable to turn her, they would have to do a c-section. "It does happen..." she warned. Again, if this did happen and I had no epidural in place, I would need to be put under, and I would miss my daughters birth.
Dave and I went home and talked a lot about it. We talked about the odds of that happening, where faith came in, the chance we were unnecessarily preventing something that might not ever happen, how I would feel if I let go of my always-planned natural delivery... and in the end, I always came back to how I would never forgive myself if things did go awry and I missed Abbey's birth. I knew I would blame myself forever for not just taking the epidural.
*****
At that time (when I was at 5) the doctor suggested it would be a good time to get the epidural, since I still wanted to be able to "feel" things towards the end of the delivery. That may sound like a weird thing to many of you, but it's true. It's not that I am some glutton for pain, it's that I do better working through pain when I can feel it. How can you push with muscles that are numb to you? How can you control muscles you can't feel? Also I wanted to be fully present for the moment my children breathed their first breaths. The doctor had suggested I get the epidural nice and early so that it was in place if we needed it, but it would "wear off" after several hours and then if I so wanted to I had the option of pushing the button to administer more meds into me later.
*****
I'm not gonna lie, the epidural felt wonderful.
I even dosed off and took a few cat naps. The afternoon is then a bit of a blur.
A looonnggg blur.
Some time later, checked again, at a 7 or an 8.
More hours slowly pass.
Around 9:00pm the pain is starting to really come again. Not terrible, but feeling is definitely returning.
Checked again, at a 9.
Around 10:45pm, I am finally at 10 centimeters.
Time to push.
The nurse, nursing student, and doctor all give me a quick lesson in how to push. David stands next to me, and supports my back as I lean forward, "bear down", and push. Those of you that have been in labor before will probably agree with me that it actually feels good when it's time to push. You feel like you are finally doing something with the pain, as opposed to just laying there and letting it happen to you.
Just a few pushes in, I notice Dr.K watching the monitors very closely. She is asking the nurse "how long has she been that way?" to which the nurse replies "not too long..."
"What?" I ask.
Apparently I had a touch of a fever, and Abbey's heart rate was getting higher. "She's is responding to your fever" I am told. "We gotta get this boy out, so we can deliver his sister, ok?"
No pressure or anything.
Pushing, pushing, pushing. Every 60-90 seconds, another contraction comes, time to push again. Pain is getting intense, want to push the button for more med relief, fight the urge to do so. David right next to me, his hand supporting my back, counting "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10...great job baby, you can do this!" More pushing. Lots of ice chips. Chap stick for suddenly very dry lips. Worried about Abbey. Doctor watching monitor very closely. Abbey's heart rate continuing to climb. She's tachycardic. "He's right there Kendra, you're so close!" I am not buying it. Doctor still has a hoodie on. Not even in OR yet, which is where delivery will take place. "1,2,3,4...." Occasionally forget how to push, am told I am doing it wrong, coached in how to push again. It's not as instinctual as you'd think. David telling me he's proud. Doctor telling me she can see Luke's head. "Does he have hair?" I ask. David checks "yes, lots!", "What color is it?" I inquire, assuming it will be blond, as both David and I were blond babies. "It's really dark!" I hear in response. What?!? More pushing. Keep being told I am close. Still not buying it. If I am so close, why aren't we in the OR? Abbey's heart rate not looking good. My fever not looking good. Things start to get tense. "Kendra, you have got to push him out ok? We need to get Abbey out". "I am trying..." I say weakly. So much pressure. "Push, push, PUSH!" We all of a sudden are going 4 rounds of pushing each contraction instead of 3. "Kendra, we need to deliver him..." I am trying so hard. I become terrified I am not going to be able to do this. The words "I don't think I can..." meekly come from my mouth. A chorus of "yes, you CAN do this!" rings out from David, doctor and nurses alike. Finally I am close enough. Luke is right there. It's been just over 2 hours since I stared pushing. Doctor pulls of hoodie and is magically in scrubs. Arm rails up on bed, monitors moved, David is thrown proper attire to put on over is clothes, the bed starts moving down the hall to the OR. I am told not to push while we are in the hallway. I am in so much pain. The nurses drive the bed down the hallway and while attempting to turn it into the OR entrance they overshoot and (gently)run the bed into the wall. "BUST THROUGH THE WALL" I think to myself as the pain is so intense I can't stand the thought of not pushing for a second longer. In OR. I am asked if I can move myself over on to operating table or if I need assistance. I lift myself and maneuver on to table. David suddenly next to me, mask on his face, hairnet on his head, but I can still see his eyes, and they are looking at me in a way I have never seen before. Excitement, fear, love, pride...all in those eyes. Contraction here. Pushhhhhhhh. "He's right there Kendra, he's right there!!" Another contraction. Pushhhhhhh. Strange sensation. Lot's of movement. An emptying feeling. All of a sudden my son appears before my eyes. I hear my husband's voice say "He's here! That's our boy!" I am caught off guard. All this time they had been telling me he was coming, and I didn't realize THAT was the moment he was actually coming. He looks funny. Beautiful funny. He is bluish, but not scary blue. His head is misshapen. His face is squished. He looks bigger than I thought he would. He doesn't cry, but for some reason I am not worried. They hold him up for 2 seconds, and then instead of putting him on my chest as I had always dreamed, they whisk him away to another part of the room so they can focus on getting Abbey out. I think to myself "did that just happen???" The sound of a baby crying suddenly fills the room. Music to my ears. I yell out "how big is he?" the nursing student smiles at me from across the room and replies "7 pounds, 7 ounces". Wow I am going to have 7 pound twins. Lots of pain. Concerned look on Dr K's face. "Abbey has flipped Kendra, I am going to try and turn her manually, ok?" Fine. Do whatever you need to do. Intense pain. Oh dear Lord the pain. Doctor trying to manually turn baby inside. Two nurses pushing hard on my stomach trying to assist from the outside. Guttural noises coming from my mouth. Never in my life have I experienced pain like that. Never. Dr K's eyes meet mine "I can't turn her Kendra, she is going to need to be sectioned". I trust Dr K wholly. "Ok, let's do this". David is asked to step back into the corner while they get me set up. I can hear him saying "I'm right here baby, I'm still here!" Curtain goes up in front of me. All of a sudden monitors start going off. Abbey's heart rate has plummeted. "We've got to get her out" I hear someone say. "Is she going to be ok?" I ask, worried. No one answers me. No one will look at me. No one is meeting my eye. "She's going to be ok, right?" I search the room, begging someone to look at me and reassure me. No one does. People are scrambling everywhere. I start to absolutely panic. Why won't anyone answer me? I cry out, unashamed, "God, please save my baby!"
*****
The day before the babies were born, I sat in the rocking chair in their nursery and read my Bible. I came across a scripture in Psalms that said "You give the command to save them..."
*****
I cry out loudly "God, please give the command to save her!" I am terrified. The room appears to be in absolute panic. Monitors wailing. Tons of people scrambling. "God, where are you?" I yell. No one is talking to me. Dr K is barking orders...she sounds concerned. "God please save my baby girl!" I continue to yell out, unabashedly, between groans of pain. A man appears over me and says "I am Dr so-and-so, the anestheologist, can you feel this?" I feel him move something across my arm "yes, I feel that". "It's gone" he says, referring to my epidural. "We don't have time, we have to get her out" I hear someone say from behind the curtain. "Just give me one minute, lets see if we can get some more in here and keep her awake."
I will always have a deep affection for that man. He tried his very hardest to allow me to hear my daughters first cries. A man I had never met before, nor seen since, tried so hard to give me that precious memory.
A warm feeling washes over my body as more meds fill me up. "Wait one minute" he says. "Is she ok?" I ask again. No response. Lots of beeping. People still talking and hurrying about around me. "Ok let's try again, can you feel this?" I feel a light sensation across my stomach. "Sort of, but just barely, it's fine, please just go ahead, I can handle it". "Ok, proceed". A SHARP pain slices across my stomach. "OUCH!" I scream. "Ok, she's gotta go under, we can't wait..." Monitors blaring. "Dad you come with me out in the hall" I hear someone say as they take David out of the room. My whole world is crashing down right in front of me. I have no idea if my daughter is going to live. I have no idea if I will wake up from anesthesia. They are taking my husband out of the room. I feel so alone. Where is my son? A mask is placed harshly over my face...
I wake up (apparently) hours later, on a bed being wheeled into a room. My mind takes a minute to figure out where I am. I suddenly remember. I am instantly concerned for Abbey, did she make it?? Is she ok??? I am frantic to find out, but for some reason my mouth won't form any words. My eyes search the room. There is David! He is sitting next to an isolate, holding a baby, looking somber. Oh my....wait, there is another baby in the isolate. Two babies. Thank you Lord. They place my bed next to him. I look at him, and he looks back. Both of us just completely stunned. I then notice I am shaking. Warm towels are placed over my head. I proceed to vomit all over myself. A nurse helps me change into another gown. I can't stop shaking. My teeth are chattering from all the shaking. "How big was she?" I manage to ask. "5 pounds, 9 ounces" David tells me. Wait, how big was he again?? Huh, nearly 2 pounds difference I think to myself. My doctor comes over and talks to me. I have a hard time focusing "I am so sorry Kendra..." "Two sets of stitches..." "She tried to come out head, hands and feet all at once, I couldn't turn her..." "We'll keep you here for a few days..." It's all blurry, but I try and listen. David looks worried. Dr K looks tired. "Momma, she's rooting around, do you feel up to trying to breastfeed?" a nurse asks me. Ok, I think to myself, if someone will help me, I can't hardly lift my arms. None of this feels real. They bring me my daughter. She is wide eyed. She looks up at me. I begin to nurse her, and she just stares up at me, completely alert. I am stunned by how awake she is. We stare at each other. So surreal. Yet so blurry....
I don't remember the first time I nursed Luke, but apparently it was right after I nursed Abbey. Not remembering when I first nursed him also means I don't remember the first time I held him. I do not remember the first time I held my son. I do not know what my daughter sounded or looked like when she first came out. Dr K tells me she screamed. Apparently after that, she was "tipped" the wrong way, and a lot of her blood went back into the placenta, and that is why she was so pale and stoic for a long time after her birth. I do not know what the look on my husband's face was the first time he held either of our children, as I was still under when they brought the babies to him down the hall.
A few weeks before the babies birth, I felt the Lord ask me to lower my expectations about delivery day. I had spent years thinking and dreaming about the day I would give birth and meet my child (or in my actual case, children) for the first time. Towards the end of my pregnancy I thought about it a lot, and wondered what it would be like. As I prayed about it, and asked God for a safe delivery of two healthy children, I seemed to have a nagging sensation that I shouldn't have too high of hopes for a certain experience. I can't quite articulate it properly, but I just felt Him warning me that I shouldn't plan on a dreamy, picture perfect day. It wasn't a feeling of impending doom by any means, but just a sense that I should not have any expectations that could lead to disappointment.
I thought I had done a good job allowing room for this, but apparently not good enough for what actually went down.
I still can't talk about it without crying. When we came home from the hospital, I wrote to the babies in their journal, and started to write to Abbey about how very sorry I am that both her Daddy and I weren't there to hear her cry. I know she doesn't know any different, but it still breaks my heart for her. I apologized to Luke, that he didn't get to lay on his Momma's chest for a moment to get warm, or be in his Daddy's arms for so long after he was born. He was pulled away to a corner of a chaotic room...was he wondering where we were? Was he scared?
The hours -and days, really- following are a blur too. I remember being given a baby in each arm, and being wheeled quickly down a hall, into an elevator, down another hall or two, and suddenly into a very small room. I remember my sisters Natalie and Emily, and my mother & father in law coming in to visit just for a few minutes. They had already met the babies much earlier, but they stayed at the hospital to be able to say hello to me. I remember being so touched they had stayed so long just to see me for a moment. It was after 6:00am at this point. Luke had been born at 1:06am, and Abbey at 1:21am. I remember feeling devastated that I hadn't been able to introduce my babies to my family as I had always dreamed...I was one of the last people there to meet my babies in fact.
In the end, I of course am so grateful for my two healthy babies. Whatever means brought them out from the womb isn't what is important, it's that they are here now, and healthy. I try my best to focus on this, and the majority of the time I do just fine. But I still felt the need to write this all out. I still feel the need to cry about it every once in awhile. It was the scariest experience of my life. It was one of the most traumatizing times David and I have ever been through as a couple. It was not at all how we thought it would be. It gave us a very rocky start to parenthood. I was desperate to recover and feel normal, feel like a family. I pushed things too much and tried to force things to fall into a groove instead of just allowing it to come about on it's own. Instead of just allowing myself time to recover and accepting grace, I pushed myself and allowed myself to be crushed when things weren't going as I thought they should. When it looked like breastfeeding might not be an option, I lost it. I do remember that clear as day...the lactation consultant in the hospital told me to "ease off" trying so hard. The babies were both on so much supplement because of Abbey's blood sugar problems from the stress of her delivery, and Luke because he lost so much weight so fast. The LC actually told me it just might not work out (can you believe that?!?), and she left and I just started bawling. I remember telling David "No! This is GOING to work. I got robbed. I got robbed out of hearing my baby girl cry for the first time. I got robbed out of holding my baby boy for the first time. I got robbed of being awake when my family met our children. I am NOT going to get robbed of this experience too!" That kind of determination did me both good and harm. On the one hand I didn't allow myself to give up, which I am grateful for, but on the other I stressed myself out so much that my milk didn't actually fully come in until the babies were about 3 weeks old. Three weeks. My body was just having such a hard time. I was so swollen from all the fluids they pumped into me during surgery, and I needed to just rest and elevate my feet, but I couldn't let myself. I felt the need to overcompensate in every other area since I felt like I "failed" birthing my twins, and was
"failing" at breastfeeding. I pushed myself way too hard and spent the first few days at home just crying constantly.
What have I learned from all this? Well, I have learned that I have a God who is full of grace and mercy, and He has given me a wonderful husband and a wonderful family who will support me through anything. My husband can hold back my fat flap, inspect my incision 5 days post op, and re-bandage it for me, all while looking at me no differently and with the same love in his eyes. My sister while sleep in 45 minute increments and research recipes that have barley in them and make me barely apple muffins because the LC told us that barley increases your milk supply. My mom will send me a prayer shawl that her Church made and prayed over for me. My mother in law will give up a week of her life to come here and help us. The list goes on and on...my family has been amazing. I have learned not to focus on what could have been, but what is now. I have two beautiful children, and although their birth did not go at all as I had hoped, they are here with me now. I am learning to hold loosely to my expectations to how I think things should go, and be better about rolling with the punches.
I have learned that I am grateful we made the choices we did. The only regret I have is not pressing the button and allowing more epidural to come in during the 2 hours I was pushing with Luke. Perhaps that would have allowed me to be awake and David to be in the room when Abbey was born. But, even then I am not sure if it would have. I am glad we chose to go ahead with the epidural. I know we tried our hardest to avoid what happened. I am glad we didn't just go ahead and schedule a c-section, as getting to push Luke out was an awesome experience, even if it wasn't at all like I had dreamed it would be. I am glad that my doctor -the doctor who had carried us through the entire pregnancy-, was able to attend their birth. David and I trusted her completely, and she knew what our hopes were for delivery day, so we know she tried her hardest to turn our baby girl and allow us that experience. I know we prayed so hard for a healthy delivery, and for wisdom in the choices we made.
It wasn't until several weeks after the babies were born that it occured to me how the devil probably had another plan for that day. I had been viewing delivery day as a battle lost, since it had gone so horribly awry from how I thought it would go. But it dawned on me one day I need to see it as a victory. I went back and read all the comments that so many people had left when my sister posted that the babies had been born. SO many people had left comments saying they had been praying. People we had never met, people who had never commented before, people we had no idea were reading. We know our Church was praying, we know our friends were praying, we know our family was praying. We are so blessed. Prayers were answered. We were given two beautiful, healthy babies, who arrived safely -albeit dramatically- into this world.
I think I will go love on those two babies now...
The night before we went into the hospital was a strange one. It's hard to know exactly what to do with yourself on your last night of not being a parent. I remember thinking I should go to bed early, but also feeling like I should stay up and take it all in. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, recognizing that might be the last time I ever saw myself pregnant.
That night after I crawled into bed (around midnight), the babies put on a show for me. They moved and squirmed and danced with such vigor, I remember just laying there amazed. I felt like they were saying "we're ready Momma!"
The alarm went off at 3:30am, as we were supposed to check into the hospital at 5:00am. I showered and got ready, and Dave packed up the van. Before we left, my sister Emily who was staying here held hands with us and we prayed for a safe delivery and healthy babies...
...Drive to hospital, try not to focus on how surreal this all is. Check in. Change into gown. Medical history gone over. Hook up heart monitors to "baby A" (Luke) and "baby B" (Abbey). Have a hard time keeping baby B in range, have to keep moving the monitor. I tell the nurse "she is stubborn...but to tell you the truth I kinda dig that about her". IV's hooked up, my very first IV ever. Not as bad as I feared. Giant water bottle handed to me. Pitocin started. Around 9:00am, doctor is on her way. Dilation checked. Cervix is not "aligned
with the birth canal", hard to locate at first. Oh wow that is painful...I may be in for a long road here... only dilated to 2. Ugh. Doctor arrives, breaks Luke's water. That's a strange sensation. Contractions have been off and on for awhile (days?), just starting to feel them. Not so bad. Around noon some family arrives, they come in to say hello, and stay to chat until I have to get up to use the restroom...backless gown and all. Dilation checked again at about 1:30pm, at about a 5. Making progress. Contractions picking up in intensity. And frequency. Soon I am having contractions every 90 seconds.
*****
I had always wanted to have a natural birth. Always. We had discussed this with my doctor at our 8 week appointment. It had been the plan for the majority of the pregnancy. Then at about 32 weeks my doctor brought it up at a routine visit. She was very careful about it, and gently advised we consider an epidural. Her reasoning was this: I was high risk for needing a c-section, for either one or both babies. If one of the babies went into distress, and an emergency c-section was needed, they would not have time to administer an epidural, and I would have to be put under general anesthesia. Dr. K gently stressed that although this situation is likely in any labor, in my case it was double the odds as I was having two deliveries. She commented that although both babies were head down, if for some reason Abbey flipped after Luke came out and she was unable to turn her, they would have to do a c-section. "It does happen..." she warned. Again, if this did happen and I had no epidural in place, I would need to be put under, and I would miss my daughters birth.
Dave and I went home and talked a lot about it. We talked about the odds of that happening, where faith came in, the chance we were unnecessarily preventing something that might not ever happen, how I would feel if I let go of my always-planned natural delivery... and in the end, I always came back to how I would never forgive myself if things did go awry and I missed Abbey's birth. I knew I would blame myself forever for not just taking the epidural.
*****
At that time (when I was at 5) the doctor suggested it would be a good time to get the epidural, since I still wanted to be able to "feel" things towards the end of the delivery. That may sound like a weird thing to many of you, but it's true. It's not that I am some glutton for pain, it's that I do better working through pain when I can feel it. How can you push with muscles that are numb to you? How can you control muscles you can't feel? Also I wanted to be fully present for the moment my children breathed their first breaths. The doctor had suggested I get the epidural nice and early so that it was in place if we needed it, but it would "wear off" after several hours and then if I so wanted to I had the option of pushing the button to administer more meds into me later.
*****
I'm not gonna lie, the epidural felt wonderful.
I even dosed off and took a few cat naps. The afternoon is then a bit of a blur.
A looonnggg blur.
Some time later, checked again, at a 7 or an 8.
More hours slowly pass.
Around 9:00pm the pain is starting to really come again. Not terrible, but feeling is definitely returning.
Checked again, at a 9.
Around 10:45pm, I am finally at 10 centimeters.
Time to push.
The nurse, nursing student, and doctor all give me a quick lesson in how to push. David stands next to me, and supports my back as I lean forward, "bear down", and push. Those of you that have been in labor before will probably agree with me that it actually feels good when it's time to push. You feel like you are finally doing something with the pain, as opposed to just laying there and letting it happen to you.
Just a few pushes in, I notice Dr.K watching the monitors very closely. She is asking the nurse "how long has she been that way?" to which the nurse replies "not too long..."
"What?" I ask.
Apparently I had a touch of a fever, and Abbey's heart rate was getting higher. "She's is responding to your fever" I am told. "We gotta get this boy out, so we can deliver his sister, ok?"
No pressure or anything.
Pushing, pushing, pushing. Every 60-90 seconds, another contraction comes, time to push again. Pain is getting intense, want to push the button for more med relief, fight the urge to do so. David right next to me, his hand supporting my back, counting "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10...great job baby, you can do this!" More pushing. Lots of ice chips. Chap stick for suddenly very dry lips. Worried about Abbey. Doctor watching monitor very closely. Abbey's heart rate continuing to climb. She's tachycardic. "He's right there Kendra, you're so close!" I am not buying it. Doctor still has a hoodie on. Not even in OR yet, which is where delivery will take place. "1,2,3,4...." Occasionally forget how to push, am told I am doing it wrong, coached in how to push again. It's not as instinctual as you'd think. David telling me he's proud. Doctor telling me she can see Luke's head. "Does he have hair?" I ask. David checks "yes, lots!", "What color is it?" I inquire, assuming it will be blond, as both David and I were blond babies. "It's really dark!" I hear in response. What?!? More pushing. Keep being told I am close. Still not buying it. If I am so close, why aren't we in the OR? Abbey's heart rate not looking good. My fever not looking good. Things start to get tense. "Kendra, you have got to push him out ok? We need to get Abbey out". "I am trying..." I say weakly. So much pressure. "Push, push, PUSH!" We all of a sudden are going 4 rounds of pushing each contraction instead of 3. "Kendra, we need to deliver him..." I am trying so hard. I become terrified I am not going to be able to do this. The words "I don't think I can..." meekly come from my mouth. A chorus of "yes, you CAN do this!" rings out from David, doctor and nurses alike. Finally I am close enough. Luke is right there. It's been just over 2 hours since I stared pushing. Doctor pulls of hoodie and is magically in scrubs. Arm rails up on bed, monitors moved, David is thrown proper attire to put on over is clothes, the bed starts moving down the hall to the OR. I am told not to push while we are in the hallway. I am in so much pain. The nurses drive the bed down the hallway and while attempting to turn it into the OR entrance they overshoot and (gently)run the bed into the wall. "BUST THROUGH THE WALL" I think to myself as the pain is so intense I can't stand the thought of not pushing for a second longer. In OR. I am asked if I can move myself over on to operating table or if I need assistance. I lift myself and maneuver on to table. David suddenly next to me, mask on his face, hairnet on his head, but I can still see his eyes, and they are looking at me in a way I have never seen before. Excitement, fear, love, pride...all in those eyes. Contraction here. Pushhhhhhhh. "He's right there Kendra, he's right there!!" Another contraction. Pushhhhhhh. Strange sensation. Lot's of movement. An emptying feeling. All of a sudden my son appears before my eyes. I hear my husband's voice say "He's here! That's our boy!" I am caught off guard. All this time they had been telling me he was coming, and I didn't realize THAT was the moment he was actually coming. He looks funny. Beautiful funny. He is bluish, but not scary blue. His head is misshapen. His face is squished. He looks bigger than I thought he would. He doesn't cry, but for some reason I am not worried. They hold him up for 2 seconds, and then instead of putting him on my chest as I had always dreamed, they whisk him away to another part of the room so they can focus on getting Abbey out. I think to myself "did that just happen???" The sound of a baby crying suddenly fills the room. Music to my ears. I yell out "how big is he?" the nursing student smiles at me from across the room and replies "7 pounds, 7 ounces". Wow I am going to have 7 pound twins. Lots of pain. Concerned look on Dr K's face. "Abbey has flipped Kendra, I am going to try and turn her manually, ok?" Fine. Do whatever you need to do. Intense pain. Oh dear Lord the pain. Doctor trying to manually turn baby inside. Two nurses pushing hard on my stomach trying to assist from the outside. Guttural noises coming from my mouth. Never in my life have I experienced pain like that. Never. Dr K's eyes meet mine "I can't turn her Kendra, she is going to need to be sectioned". I trust Dr K wholly. "Ok, let's do this". David is asked to step back into the corner while they get me set up. I can hear him saying "I'm right here baby, I'm still here!" Curtain goes up in front of me. All of a sudden monitors start going off. Abbey's heart rate has plummeted. "We've got to get her out" I hear someone say. "Is she going to be ok?" I ask, worried. No one answers me. No one will look at me. No one is meeting my eye. "She's going to be ok, right?" I search the room, begging someone to look at me and reassure me. No one does. People are scrambling everywhere. I start to absolutely panic. Why won't anyone answer me? I cry out, unashamed, "God, please save my baby!"
*****
The day before the babies were born, I sat in the rocking chair in their nursery and read my Bible. I came across a scripture in Psalms that said "You give the command to save them..."
*****
I cry out loudly "God, please give the command to save her!" I am terrified. The room appears to be in absolute panic. Monitors wailing. Tons of people scrambling. "God, where are you?" I yell. No one is talking to me. Dr K is barking orders...she sounds concerned. "God please save my baby girl!" I continue to yell out, unabashedly, between groans of pain. A man appears over me and says "I am Dr so-and-so, the anestheologist, can you feel this?" I feel him move something across my arm "yes, I feel that". "It's gone" he says, referring to my epidural. "We don't have time, we have to get her out" I hear someone say from behind the curtain. "Just give me one minute, lets see if we can get some more in here and keep her awake."
I will always have a deep affection for that man. He tried his very hardest to allow me to hear my daughters first cries. A man I had never met before, nor seen since, tried so hard to give me that precious memory.
A warm feeling washes over my body as more meds fill me up. "Wait one minute" he says. "Is she ok?" I ask again. No response. Lots of beeping. People still talking and hurrying about around me. "Ok let's try again, can you feel this?" I feel a light sensation across my stomach. "Sort of, but just barely, it's fine, please just go ahead, I can handle it". "Ok, proceed". A SHARP pain slices across my stomach. "OUCH!" I scream. "Ok, she's gotta go under, we can't wait..." Monitors blaring. "Dad you come with me out in the hall" I hear someone say as they take David out of the room. My whole world is crashing down right in front of me. I have no idea if my daughter is going to live. I have no idea if I will wake up from anesthesia. They are taking my husband out of the room. I feel so alone. Where is my son? A mask is placed harshly over my face...
I wake up (apparently) hours later, on a bed being wheeled into a room. My mind takes a minute to figure out where I am. I suddenly remember. I am instantly concerned for Abbey, did she make it?? Is she ok??? I am frantic to find out, but for some reason my mouth won't form any words. My eyes search the room. There is David! He is sitting next to an isolate, holding a baby, looking somber. Oh my....wait, there is another baby in the isolate. Two babies. Thank you Lord. They place my bed next to him. I look at him, and he looks back. Both of us just completely stunned. I then notice I am shaking. Warm towels are placed over my head. I proceed to vomit all over myself. A nurse helps me change into another gown. I can't stop shaking. My teeth are chattering from all the shaking. "How big was she?" I manage to ask. "5 pounds, 9 ounces" David tells me. Wait, how big was he again?? Huh, nearly 2 pounds difference I think to myself. My doctor comes over and talks to me. I have a hard time focusing "I am so sorry Kendra..." "Two sets of stitches..." "She tried to come out head, hands and feet all at once, I couldn't turn her..." "We'll keep you here for a few days..." It's all blurry, but I try and listen. David looks worried. Dr K looks tired. "Momma, she's rooting around, do you feel up to trying to breastfeed?" a nurse asks me. Ok, I think to myself, if someone will help me, I can't hardly lift my arms. None of this feels real. They bring me my daughter. She is wide eyed. She looks up at me. I begin to nurse her, and she just stares up at me, completely alert. I am stunned by how awake she is. We stare at each other. So surreal. Yet so blurry....
I don't remember the first time I nursed Luke, but apparently it was right after I nursed Abbey. Not remembering when I first nursed him also means I don't remember the first time I held him. I do not remember the first time I held my son. I do not know what my daughter sounded or looked like when she first came out. Dr K tells me she screamed. Apparently after that, she was "tipped" the wrong way, and a lot of her blood went back into the placenta, and that is why she was so pale and stoic for a long time after her birth. I do not know what the look on my husband's face was the first time he held either of our children, as I was still under when they brought the babies to him down the hall.
A few weeks before the babies birth, I felt the Lord ask me to lower my expectations about delivery day. I had spent years thinking and dreaming about the day I would give birth and meet my child (or in my actual case, children) for the first time. Towards the end of my pregnancy I thought about it a lot, and wondered what it would be like. As I prayed about it, and asked God for a safe delivery of two healthy children, I seemed to have a nagging sensation that I shouldn't have too high of hopes for a certain experience. I can't quite articulate it properly, but I just felt Him warning me that I shouldn't plan on a dreamy, picture perfect day. It wasn't a feeling of impending doom by any means, but just a sense that I should not have any expectations that could lead to disappointment.
I thought I had done a good job allowing room for this, but apparently not good enough for what actually went down.
I still can't talk about it without crying. When we came home from the hospital, I wrote to the babies in their journal, and started to write to Abbey about how very sorry I am that both her Daddy and I weren't there to hear her cry. I know she doesn't know any different, but it still breaks my heart for her. I apologized to Luke, that he didn't get to lay on his Momma's chest for a moment to get warm, or be in his Daddy's arms for so long after he was born. He was pulled away to a corner of a chaotic room...was he wondering where we were? Was he scared?
The hours -and days, really- following are a blur too. I remember being given a baby in each arm, and being wheeled quickly down a hall, into an elevator, down another hall or two, and suddenly into a very small room. I remember my sisters Natalie and Emily, and my mother & father in law coming in to visit just for a few minutes. They had already met the babies much earlier, but they stayed at the hospital to be able to say hello to me. I remember being so touched they had stayed so long just to see me for a moment. It was after 6:00am at this point. Luke had been born at 1:06am, and Abbey at 1:21am. I remember feeling devastated that I hadn't been able to introduce my babies to my family as I had always dreamed...I was one of the last people there to meet my babies in fact.
In the end, I of course am so grateful for my two healthy babies. Whatever means brought them out from the womb isn't what is important, it's that they are here now, and healthy. I try my best to focus on this, and the majority of the time I do just fine. But I still felt the need to write this all out. I still feel the need to cry about it every once in awhile. It was the scariest experience of my life. It was one of the most traumatizing times David and I have ever been through as a couple. It was not at all how we thought it would be. It gave us a very rocky start to parenthood. I was desperate to recover and feel normal, feel like a family. I pushed things too much and tried to force things to fall into a groove instead of just allowing it to come about on it's own. Instead of just allowing myself time to recover and accepting grace, I pushed myself and allowed myself to be crushed when things weren't going as I thought they should. When it looked like breastfeeding might not be an option, I lost it. I do remember that clear as day...the lactation consultant in the hospital told me to "ease off" trying so hard. The babies were both on so much supplement because of Abbey's blood sugar problems from the stress of her delivery, and Luke because he lost so much weight so fast. The LC actually told me it just might not work out (can you believe that?!?), and she left and I just started bawling. I remember telling David "No! This is GOING to work. I got robbed. I got robbed out of hearing my baby girl cry for the first time. I got robbed out of holding my baby boy for the first time. I got robbed of being awake when my family met our children. I am NOT going to get robbed of this experience too!" That kind of determination did me both good and harm. On the one hand I didn't allow myself to give up, which I am grateful for, but on the other I stressed myself out so much that my milk didn't actually fully come in until the babies were about 3 weeks old. Three weeks. My body was just having such a hard time. I was so swollen from all the fluids they pumped into me during surgery, and I needed to just rest and elevate my feet, but I couldn't let myself. I felt the need to overcompensate in every other area since I felt like I "failed" birthing my twins, and was
"failing" at breastfeeding. I pushed myself way too hard and spent the first few days at home just crying constantly.
What have I learned from all this? Well, I have learned that I have a God who is full of grace and mercy, and He has given me a wonderful husband and a wonderful family who will support me through anything. My husband can hold back my fat flap, inspect my incision 5 days post op, and re-bandage it for me, all while looking at me no differently and with the same love in his eyes. My sister while sleep in 45 minute increments and research recipes that have barley in them and make me barely apple muffins because the LC told us that barley increases your milk supply. My mom will send me a prayer shawl that her Church made and prayed over for me. My mother in law will give up a week of her life to come here and help us. The list goes on and on...my family has been amazing. I have learned not to focus on what could have been, but what is now. I have two beautiful children, and although their birth did not go at all as I had hoped, they are here with me now. I am learning to hold loosely to my expectations to how I think things should go, and be better about rolling with the punches.
I have learned that I am grateful we made the choices we did. The only regret I have is not pressing the button and allowing more epidural to come in during the 2 hours I was pushing with Luke. Perhaps that would have allowed me to be awake and David to be in the room when Abbey was born. But, even then I am not sure if it would have. I am glad we chose to go ahead with the epidural. I know we tried our hardest to avoid what happened. I am glad we didn't just go ahead and schedule a c-section, as getting to push Luke out was an awesome experience, even if it wasn't at all like I had dreamed it would be. I am glad that my doctor -the doctor who had carried us through the entire pregnancy-, was able to attend their birth. David and I trusted her completely, and she knew what our hopes were for delivery day, so we know she tried her hardest to turn our baby girl and allow us that experience. I know we prayed so hard for a healthy delivery, and for wisdom in the choices we made.
It wasn't until several weeks after the babies were born that it occured to me how the devil probably had another plan for that day. I had been viewing delivery day as a battle lost, since it had gone so horribly awry from how I thought it would go. But it dawned on me one day I need to see it as a victory. I went back and read all the comments that so many people had left when my sister posted that the babies had been born. SO many people had left comments saying they had been praying. People we had never met, people who had never commented before, people we had no idea were reading. We know our Church was praying, we know our friends were praying, we know our family was praying. We are so blessed. Prayers were answered. We were given two beautiful, healthy babies, who arrived safely -albeit dramatically- into this world.
I think I will go love on those two babies now...