A few months after our marriage, my husband and I started talking about having kids. He suggested I talk to my doctor, and tell her we wanted to start our family. My doctor advised me to be patient, and said it could take up to a year and a half to conceive.
Four weeks after that appointment, I was standing in front of a nurse, smiling and crying as she confirmed that I was pregnant.
I went in for my first official appointment at 6 weeks. Because I had been really sick and my blood pressure was excessively high, my doctor wanted to narrow down my due date. She thought I might be further along than I'd estimated. She drew blood and decided to do an ultrasound the next day, so I scheduled the appointment for my lunch break.
I brought a good friend along, as my husband couldn't leave work that day. Besides, it was just supposed to be an ultrasound to estimate a delivery date. When the technician started the ultrasound examination, she smiled and pointed out two sacs on the monitor.
Needless to say, I was late getting back to work because all the measurements took twice as long. I called my husband on the way.
He asked, "Well, did you see or hear the heartbeat?"
" I saw both heartbeats," I replied.
I heard a pause on the other end of the line. Slowly, he asked, " Our baby has two hearts?"
"No silly, we're having twins!"
Again, there was another pause. Then he said, very quietly, "I have to call my mommy." And he hung up.
I had to explain to my co-workers why I was so late coming back to work. Everyone was very excited for me.
My pregnancy started out normally. I was referred to a Peri-natal clinic because of my high blood pressure and the fact that I was having twins, both of which rated this a high risk pregnancy. I was pretty sick up until twenty weeks along, and my doctor was monitoring my blood pressure regularly. At 24 weeks, I started having a bi-monthly fetal fibronectin tests. This is a test for a protein that is present two weeks before giving birth. It was a way of monitoring whether or not I would go into pre-mature labor. At 26 weeks, my blood pressure was high and I was having contractions. I was told that I would need to stop working and go on bed rest.
What a way to spend the summer! My first thought was about all the stuff I wanted to get done before the babies were born. Now I wouldn't be able to do any of it because I'd need to rest all the time.
At 33 weeks, I had the tell-tale signs of pre-eclampsia and was admitted into the hospital. That was frightening because I had just gone in for my weekly check-up, and the next thing I knew, my nurse was wheeling me down to the labor and delivery area (my clinic was in the hospital, on the same floor as the delivery room).
I was hooked up to magnesium sulfate, given a strep "B" and a steroid shot to help the babies’ lungs develop. The doctors were afraid that my blood pressure would climb so high that it would get to a dangerous threshold, both for my health and the babies'. There was also the risk of seizures with blood pressure this high. I was monitored for 24 hours, lying on the uncomfortable bed of the labor and delivery ward. Finally, I was moved upstairs once I'd been stabilized.
The doctors sent me home on Friday. I'd been in the hospital since Monday.
But when I went for my checkup on the following Monday, I was re-admitted. This time, I was released on Thursday, and was smart enough not to make an appointment for the following Monday. Instead, I scheduled it for Tuesday, and received strict instructions to sit on my butt and do nothing.
My Tuesday appointment included a growth ultrasound. The technician measured the babies' size; they were around five pounds each. That was exciting news.
My doctor came in and asked me how I was feeling. Besides the fact that I couldn't walk very well, couldn't see my toes or find clothes that would fit around my belly, I was doing fine. He asked me when I wanted to have these babies. Since Baby A was in breech position, we were planning a C-Section. I told him that Friday was good for me as long as he was working. After a brief consultation with the nurse and ultrasound technician, we agreed that Friday, August 24th would be as good a day as any. My doctor advised me to go home and enjoy the last lazy days of my life.
My husband and I went to a movie, had dinner out and I enjoyed myself as much as a large, uncomfortably pregnant lady could.
On Thursday, August 23rd, I went in for the pre-surgical check-up with my husband, and was admitted to Labor and Delivery. Ugh! We were served a nice dinner in the L & D room. Then my husband went home to get a good night's rest before our lives changed forever. As I was getting ready for sleep, my nurse came in and talked to me about what would happen the next morning before, during and after the procedure. It calmed my nerves a lot.
The next morning I was wheeled into the O.R. I was given a spinal block to numb my waist to my feet. There were a whole lot of nurses and doctors running around. I kept waiting for them to start. Where was my husband? I knew he wanted to be there. Soon he came in and sat down next to me. "Honey, I think they're going to start soon," I said.
At that same instant, the doctor was pulling out my son Wyatt. Very quickly after that, Isabelle was born. Piece of cake! Wyatt was six pounds, five ounces, Isabelle was six pounds, nine ounces. Wow! Pretty big babies for 36 weeks. I would hate to see how big they would have become if I had gone to 40 weeks.
Isabelle and Wyatt are as healthy and happy as they can be. I never went into labor. I never felt any hard contractions or felt my water break. Did I miss out on the natural miracle of birth? Not as long as the babies are healthy. They are miracles themselves.