Bean Sprouts: 4 Weeks

 

.           .           .

Despite the posts of the last few weeks, my intention is not to transform this here bloggity blog into one solely about my darling children (although their appearances will be numerous) but to keep on keepin’ on with projects, a few of which are being completed between sleeping, feeding, and sleeping so…stay tuned.  :)

The OR, Practice, and Finally

Well, 20 minutes came and went with nary a nurse or doctor or Anthony in sight.  In my mind I was already angry at Anthony for apparently running into someone he knew and holding a super long convo while his wife was laboring with twins floors above or on his way to Mickey D’s after taking one sad look at the apparent lack of selection at the hospital caf or just plain chickening out of watching his daughters being born…and then the door opened and in walked my prince with lunch and the reasonable explanation that there was a huge line for food.  After all, it was lunch time and people do eat.  I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation for his prolonged absence…

  Not five minutes after Anthony marched in with his lunch and started monging did my nurse and doctor waltz in with news that the operating room was prepped for landing and that they’d be rolling me on in to get some practice pushes in…practice pushes?  How hard could pushing be and was practice really necessary?  Heart racing at the thought of the twins impending arrival, I pulled the old smile and nod and let myself be rolled down the hall and into the brightly lit, heavily machined room where one of the best and hardest hours of my life would be spent.

Anthony told “If you feel like you’re going to pass out, just sit down, don’t look for a chair, just sit down on the floor”, stirrups occupied, and the very last shred of my modesty scrapped, the practice pushing began.  Since I obviously couldn’t feel my lower half, I had to be told when to push…a quite unnerving idea and fact.  At my nurse’s command, I had to push and try to clench my overstretched abs as hard as I possibly could for ten seconds, 3 times in a row.  And I thought the hard part was already over…the epidural was sure to make anything that occurred after it’s procurement a cinch, right?  W to the R to the O to the N to the G.  After ten minutes of this so called ‘practice’, our first-born hadn’t moved an inch.  Feeling quite the failure, having lost any energy my morning bowl of Lucky Charms had supplied, and still having no clue as to how I was to move my seemingly unmovable body parts any differently in order to expel her, my new focus was on trying to keep a chipper attitude and hold back imminent tears (and breakfast…lucky on the tears, not so lucky on the breakfast). 

I’ll skip the doom and gloom of the next half hour (spent doing exactly the same thing as the previous 10 minutes with almost the same conclusion) to the moment when my nurse had called my doctor back up to the OR knowing he could remedy the situation at hand – baby having barely moved down and out after 45 minutes of ‘pushing’/me scrunching up my face in hopes that my lower extremities would follow suit and scrunch up and out too.  Well, he did just that.  Wielding the powerful suction-cup-to-head-of-baby tool, I distinctly remember him saying “Get ready to meet your first daughter” minutes after his arrival and out came Seraphia Marie (directly after which I felt tons lighter already and the second amniotic sac was broken) followed by her sweet sib Cecilia Rosaline a mere five minutes after.  The flood gates of tears opened and our amazement was once again compounded as we gazed upon our two little souls in the flesh.

We’ve had glimpses of what heaven must be like in those precious moments after our girls were born and everyday since.  The birth story isn’t over yet though.  Stay tuned for the fourth and final installment coming your way, hopefully, within the next couple days.  :) 

 

 

*In case you missed it and want more, read part 1, part 2, and part 4.*

Bean Sprouts: 3 Weeks

.           .           .



In case you're wondering if I'll eeevvveerrr finish the twin's birth story (ahem...Grace), I will.  I'm working on catching up on sleep - so necessary to type complete and understandable sentences yet such an unreasonable goal considering the two night owls we've inherited - and brushing up on my one-handed typing skills followed by my new interest in learning how to type with the tip of my nose, the latter of which I'll be more likely to use as my hands are usually preoccupied these days.  :)

Bean Sprouts: 2 Weeks

TV Guide, Super-Epidural, and Anthony's Disappearance

So, four centimeters before labor even really began and my mind thinking it might be easier than I thought, especially since I was getting an epidural (strongly recommended, sometimes required for having twins in case an emergency c-section is needed...or the doc has to literally reach up and grab Twin B lest she decide to swim away).  Next came the waiting and the ever increasing intensity and frequency of contractions.  The TV was on but I vaguely remember only seeing TV Guide channel's rising list more than an actual show...our attempt to see what was on and change the channel according to what we felt like was obviously failing.  We both thrived on hearing the heartbeats of the babes on the monitors and so very often, the dull thuds of their kicks and brushes against the monitors.  It was sometime during those moments that the question of how I would get to the bathroom hit me.  Of course I asked, thinking I could just unstrap myself and wheel the IV stand over yonder to the potty but upon asking, I found out I was restrained to a bed pan...lovely.  Good thing I didn't eat breakfast and drink a large glass of orange juice followed by a few hundred gulps of water earlier that morning... 

So, contractions.  At first, it was just the normal tightening of my abdomen/uterus I was very used to but as my pitocin drip was steadily increased, on came those I had never experienced before.  I was bound and determined to go as long as they would let me before getting the epidural but was also very concerned with not missing the window of opportunity - apparently once your cervix is past a certain point, you can no longer get an epidural - and I knew that my sweet nurse knew enough to not let me pass it up yet I remember asking her to death if she thought I was still okay and safe within that time frame.  After an hour or so of contractions that pushed Cecilia so far up into my ribs and lungs that I thought for sure she had broken and punctured both, I finally broke down and asked for the anesthesiologist.  Twenty minutes later I had a tube in my spine and was slowly losing the feeling in my lower half...one of the weirdest feelings I've ever felt.  I wasn't thrilled with the fact that my legs began to feel like they each weighed a thousand pounds but I was so relieved that I could no longer feel my rear end, already going numb on it's own from sitting on the rock hard hospital bed. 

After about a half hour of epidural juice running it's course, after I couldn't even attempt to lift a leg, after the contractions had been almost reduced to a number on an electronic box to my right, I could still feel a sharp pain above my left leg that throbbed every time I contracted, and it didn't go away and didn't go away.  Even after being helped to lay on my left side so that the juice would travel thataway, it still hurt.  Back came the anesthesiologist who decided to reposition the tube in my back AND up the dosage a teensy bit.  Ten minutes later, the pain was gone and my legs felt like they had each put on a thousand more pounds.  The time was close to 11 am.  Again we waited and waited, TV Guide constantly scrolling through its scheduling and the twins still kicking like crazy. 

Around 12:30 pm, my nurse came in to check my dilation shortly after Anthony had left to go secure some lunch in the cafeteria.  While performing the shameless act, her eyes grew wide and she surprisingly exclaimed "Wow, nine centimeters!  You'll probably start pushing in twenty minutes or so!"  My already crazy mind zoomed straight ahead to thinking about how the 'labor' and my life as it used to be were almost over and the 'delivery' and our little sprouts were quickly approaching...and "Where the heck is Anthony...Why is it taking him so long to grab food...What if he misses it!"

...Hungry twins...gotta go!  Until then, I leave you with a glimpse of our two little peas in a pod...

*In case you missed the rest of the story and want more, read part 1, part 3, and part 4.*