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...
21 comments:
Kendra,
What a powerful posting... I read it all intently and know where you were coming from. I have always known that you were an amazing woman...even back to the "princess parking space" days! Would of, could of, should of, are the devil's way of making us question what we have done. You did what your heart told you to... no one will ever fault you. Your children are never going to know any different from "we have the best mom and dad in the world". I know how hard it was to relive this... you have done it...and I hope that you feel lighter. Bless you and your family... I hope to meet your little joys in the very near future... Hugs and love! Jules
Thank you for writing - and sharing - your experience.
As I read this, I kept thinking, Thank you God that Abbey is okay. It could have gone another way so easily. It's so scary to even think about that. I can only imagine how afraid you were in the last few minutes before her birth (by the way, NO PRESSURE from the doctors during pushing or anything, right? Good grief. As if that would work, anyway).
Kendra--
That was an amazijng story. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.
I'm so thankful Luke and Abbey are here and are safe and healthy.
I'm sorry the deliveries didn't go smoother, but it sounds to me like you're looking at the positive in all of it, and you are so grateful.
Your attitude is so amazing. I learn so much from you.
Congrats to you and David once again...your babies are each so beautiful, and as I said...I'm just glad they are here safe and sound :)
Sending lots of love to you all!!
God is good all the time-all the time God is good. So blessed by this story as will both of those beautiful babies will be one day. So sorry that you had to experience your labor and delivery this way but as you wrote it and I read it I could see God's hand all over it and what a neat testimony to share with others.
Praising God for His blessings over your precious bundles of joy.
Thanks for sharing this.
Jill
Kendra. Your post is amazing. I felt like I was right there. You might consider submitting it to a magazine.
Having given birth 5 tines myself and having been a labor coach many times, I know that childbirth is not a cookie-cutter process. There are so many variations. Many things can go awry. I remember Tom Kahan's comment on home birth: "It's not like buying a car. Things can turn bad in the blink of an eye and you can't just get a warranty replacement."
You were blessed with an amazing medical staff who assisted YOU in bringing those beautiful children into the world.
Chances are you would have cried the first many days home anyway, even if your birth had gone as hoped. There are so many hormones rushing around and so much fatigue after birth, no woman is herself. The fact that you have such a tender heart just magnifies it.
You have done such an amazing job with nursing! You look fantastic! Your babies are so blessed to have you and David as parents.
I could not be more proud of you!
Love, mom
Awesome post. I am a new reader and will definately come back!
http://theadventuresoffamilyof5.blogspot.com
What a powerful story - thank you so much for sharing! I can't even imagine the fear you experienced that day - but I am so thankful that both babies are here happy & healthy - thats the most important thing.
Its so scary how in an instant things can change so drastically. Childbirth is so different - even from one pregnancy to another - you honestly don't know what to expect each time - I found that out this time too.
Your determination is such an inspiration and those babies will never know anything but the love that they obviously have from both of you. You both sound like such awesome parents and they are blessed to have you.
Thanks for sharing your story :)
Kristen
Kendra, I am so glad you shared this with us. Labor and delivery and parenthood don't always go as planned. I too had a hard time with this, feeling the guilt of "failing" my daughter by not carrying her to full term, I also cried when the nurses told me I would have to supplement with formula b/c of her low weight, I was devestated when they told me I would have to have her tongue clipped so she could nurse properly and not have terrible speech problems and dental problems, I sobbed when they cut her and I heard her screams, I felt I had failed her as well. I have learned however that you have to let that guilt go, you can only do your best and you are doing that. You have to forgive yourself, even though you didn't do anything wrong, you created two beautiful lives, and only you can love them like you do, no one else will ever know the bond between a mother and her children, not even our husbands, your babies are fighters, we knew that from the day you announced your pregnancy. They always will be, be proud of what you accomplished and let yourself relax, grieve over the loss of what you thought your labor would be like, and then revel in the fact that they are here and healthy. Love you!
Thank you so much for sharing this Kendra. I read this shortly after I posted a little birth story of my baby (who turned NINE today!). Even though I was already teary from writing my own story, this would have had me bawling regardless.
You are such a strong woman Kendra. I think you are so right in that the day could have gone totally different, it was a battle won, not a battle lost. God is there, His will will be done, and He gave you those two precious children to raise. I hope their birth is the hardest/most traumatic thing you'll have to experience for quite sometime.
Hang in there mama, you rock!
Kendra,
I have been reading your blog for a while now and have seen the grace that God has put in your life. Your testimony of your struggle in trying to conceive and then now your struggle of your labor are just more signs of how God is in control and only He knows our stories will end! Such a testimony you give while being so candid and honest of your feelings and thoughts!! Just a reminder for me to keep putting my faith in Him and to stop trying to push for certain things to go MY WAY but just hand it over to Him and he will take care of it all! Thank you Kendra for that lesson today!!! Your babies are absolutely beautiful and have a very strong, brave, and loving momma!!!
Kendra, my eyes are still tear-filled after reading your post. Thank you for sharing. You and David are amazing, and Luke and Abbey are absolutely the luckiest babies in the world to have you for parents. I'm so proud of you both.
i am so sorry Kendra that this was your experience!
i had an emergency c-section too (in no way is it close to your experience!) - and along with postpartum after, there are many things i can't remember or would like a re-do of.
but i am incredibly thankful to God that YOU are safe, that your babies are safe, and that God has given you a new perspective on this heartbreaking yet exciting moment in your life.
keep loving on those miracles! :)
I'm undone. You and David are terrific parents, staring before delivery. Luke & Abbey are blessed to have you, and they are a blessing to you.
I am grateful. Thanks for sharing so beautifully "The Birth Story."
LOVE,
GRAND DAD
I have had complete, visible goosebumps the whole time reading this and I can hardly keep from crying. There is so much I want to say...but I can't get it all out right now. I just feel your heart and agree with it and am so sorry that it happened this way, but of course I am thankful to God that He was there and His plan happened and the babies are healthy and perfect. THANKS BE TO GOD! I am honored to have prayed for you and the babies all this time. You are such a wonderful friend and I am proud to be YOUR friend! Keep pouring your heart to God and he will heal your emotional wounds about what you missed. I just know He will. Love you friend!
Kendra, sounds like the Lord knew exactly what He was doing in giving you this experience. One of the things I have been so grateful for in my own birth experience is the ability to help others through (or to prepare for) their experiences since it's a rare situation where at least something doesn't go quite the way the mom had originally envisioned it to go. And by the comments above, it's clear that He is using you in the same way to help others to process their own stories or to share yours with others.
This was absolutely beautiful, Kendra!!!!
Wow, the Lord has brought you through so much to get these babies here. I'm so thankful for His faithfulness and for the miracles that He has given to you. You are a richly blessed woman!
Oh wow, what an amazing story. Thank you for sharing your experience - I can not even begin to imagine all of the emotions.
I was smiling then crying all the while I was reading this. I just had such a hard time reading about how much pain you were in, and how the delivery day was so different than what you had anticipated. I know I also have a lot of those excpectation of delivery day as you did. I am sure I will need to let go of some of those expectations as well, as hard as that is. I hope and pray that healing is happening, you have been through so much to get to your little miracles!!
I know well how drained you must have been after writing this down and reliving it. That in itself is a mother's love and sacrifice, and I'm so glad you chose to share it with us.
I love you, and continue to pray for you daily -- every time I sigh over that intial ache of letdown, I think, "Kendra's doing this, I can do this!"
After a post you wrote mentioning Abbey's birth, I wanted to go back and read your blog from March onward. This post almost made me cry. I had goosebumps. I just wanted to tell you that.
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