The twins’ birthday is today. They are eleven (wow!). Every year when we celebrate their birthday, I can’t help but to think back to the months leading up to their birth. It was such a difficult pregnancy, and it was so hard for me to go through both emotionally and physically. In honor of my walk down memory lane, I have decided to re-post my post from last year on their birthday.
The twins at four months.
Ten years ago I was on bed rest. I had been on bed rest for three months with 3 to 4 contractions an hour. I was receiving steroid shots twice a week, and I was on a terbutaline pump that I had to change myself once a week. I had already been in the hospital numerous times when my contractions were more than four an hour. On top of that I had been to the cardiologist weekly because my heart rate was high, and it was skipping beats. By 35 weeks I was emotionally drained and physically drained. On June 28th, when I had more than four contractions an hour, I went to the doctor’s office. I was excited and scared when he told me he would no longer try to stop the contractions. He felt the babies would be healthy, and that it was time for them to be born.
By that evening I had been in hard labor for several hours, and I was getting ready for my c-section. The doctor decided that because of the babies small size and the fact that they were both breech, a c-section would be safer. Right before the scheduled c-section I was informed I would have to be transferred to a bigger hospital because another pre-term baby had just been born, and the hospital was not equipped for three preemies. I was then brought to the other hospital in an ambulance and taken immediately in to get a c-section. It was 11:50 pm. The doctor decided to wait ten minutes before he started, so the babies would be born after midnight. He wanted to give me to have an extra night at the hospital to recover, and by waiting until after midnight I was assured the extra night. At 12:01 am my son was born. Two minutes later his sister followed. They were small, and they were perfect.
The twins needed a little extra help breathing, and so they were whisked away to the NICU. I was worried and upset. Their dad went with them. and I felt helpless as I lay in the surgery room. I had another complication when the nurses and doctor could not get my bleeding to stop after the surgery. The doctor told me afterwords he was really worried for me, but he was such a wonderful doctor that I never knew it.
It was more than 24 hours before I could see the twins. They were in the NICU, and I wasn’t able to get out of bed before that. I had pictures of them, but I just wanted to hold them. Finally they were placed in my arms, and I knew immediately that everything that I had endured the last three months was worth it. I silently gave thanks for everything, especially for the wonderful doctor who had done so much for us (including calling the insurance company when they refused to cover everything needed during the pregnancy).
The next few days went by quickly, and I was very happy when the twins were able to leave the hospital the same day I did. My daughter was the healthier of the two and experienced very little consequences. My son had a little more trouble. He couldn’t eat much and had trouble keeping down his food. He was needy and very sensitive and just looked sickly. Over the years he has always had it a little harder than his sister. He has amblyopia and strabismus and has had to endure years of patching his weak eye and has had one eye surgery. He also has asthma and allergies, and he is not that physical. They both have sensory issues.
But they are perfect. I look back over the last ten years, and I am so blessed to have them. We celebrate their birthday today, but I celebrate it everyday. I often pause and just think how lucky I am and how grateful I am. I give thanks every night for them. They truly are my miracles.