Maya and Sierra's Birth Story - Part 3

At the end of the last post, I looked back and realized that neither of the first two posts counted as "birth story" since they're just me whining about the pregnancy.  I even considered going back and editing the posts, but that seemed unecessary (especially since I'm pretty sure nobody's reading this blog yet anyway *laughs*)

Today: the actual birth.  Or...surgery.  I mean, clearly they were born, but I find it hard to think of a C-section as them "being born" - what with the lack of pushing and swearing and death threats to my significant other.  Ah well, it is what it is.

Background information - one of the reasons we had so many ultrasounds (at least one every two weeks, weekly from weeks 20-34) was to constantly check or TTTS, twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome.  Apparently, because the girls shared a chord, there was a constant risk that one of them might start mowing down all of the resources, leaving less for her sister, meaning one of the twins doesn't develop properly.  Apparently, Maya and Sierra were good at sharing, because it was never a problem, until week 35 when it showed up a little (I know people will ask which one, but I don't even remember at this point).  The doctors decided on an emergency C-section.

Calling it an "emergency C-section" makes it sound more serious than it really was - the fact was we were already scheduled to have a c-section the following week (since the babies were breech), so they just bumped up the date by 5 days.  However, what this translated to was that the babies were going to be born at 35 weeks a 6 days.  At the hospital, any baby under 36 weeks is considered premature, and must go straight to the NICU for intensive care.  More on that later.

On April 22, 2010, I woke up knowing that at 2 pm I would be a mom.  It's quite calming knowing exactly when your babies will be born.  No uncertainty, no frantic car rides, no breathing exercises while being pushed in a wheelchair down the hospital hallway...we just woke up, finished packing our bags, took a few pictures, then drove on over.


I looked so much teenier from the front




Man was I huge!  (In the background, our fabulous nursery collage)




My sister flew halfway across the country just to be there to meet the girls - she's amazing!

At the hospital, they put me in one of those flaps of fabric, and gave Will a set of scrubs.  He, of course, had all sorts of ideas about wandering the hospital in his scrubs randomly dispensing advice to people.  I believe he planned to call himself Dr. Gina  (yes, Dr. V. Gina)

He does look incredibly cute in his scrubs

Remember how I said the girls would have to go straight to the NICU?  That meant they both had their own team of doctors and nurses to whisk them away (3 each).  Plus my doctor and nurses, plus the anesthetists... at one point I counted 15 people in the room.

The scariest part was the epidural, but I had already had one back in January for the first emergency procedure (the cerclage).  Then, it became incredibly surreal.  I pretty much just lay there, there was a big sheet between me and the "action", so I couldn't see anything.  I remember just waiting to hear a baby crying.  And waiting, and waiting - it probably took about ten minutes, but it felt like forever.  And then, suddenly, I heard it.

Did you know babies come out covered in goo?  Cause they do

About a minute later, I heard it again.


Post-goo



Gooey







And that was it, I was a mom, and Will was a dad (he got to cut the chords).  They brought each baby over for a couple of seconds, so I could see them, but that was all I really got to see of them until the next morning.  The girls went with their own little teams, and it seemed like as quickly as they came, they were gone.  Most of the hospital staff left too, and the room suddenly seemed very quiet and empty.  When I think back on it, I wish I could have held them.  I understand, they were premature, the hospital needed to take every precaution.  The last thing I would want to do would be to put them at any risk.  But it would have been nice to hold them.

Sierra and Maya's birth story - Part 2

I believe I got to the part where I was motoring around in a wheelchair.  Remember how I complained that people couldn't tell I was pregnant?  Well that took care of itself.  I got HUGE.  By month 7, I'm not even sure I could have walked much anyway.

The real fun came in month 8.  People love giving pregnant women advice.  Especially for your first child.  Over, and over again, they would smile at me and say "Better sleep now sweetheart, because once they're born it's all over".  I know they meant well.  However, please hear me when I say that is an incredibly stupid thing to say to a pregnant woman.  Women who are 8 months pregnant aren't getting any sleep.  Well, I sure as heck wasn't.  My back hurt, there were no comfortable positions left, my sadistic little unborn angels got active around midnight...not to mention the late night "Holy crap I'm about to be a mother: what if I screw them up?" angst.

At 8 months, I was falling asleep around 3 am, waking up around 6 am.  I watched a lot of reruns of the Gilmore Girls at 2 in the morning (way to be CMT).  I played a lot of Spider Solitaire.

Oh, and I also developed some pregnancy related condition called cholestasis,  where your liver can't process all of the toxins in your system so it starts dumping them into your bloodstream.  What that translates to is EXTREME itchiness.  But it's coming from inside you, from your blood.  Scratching doesn't help.  Lotions don't help.  Ice doesn't help.  It's like a horror movie "It's coming from inside you".  It especially makes your feet super itchy.  But you know what?  I COULDN'T REACH MY FEET.

The long and short of it was, every time someone smiled at me and said "Better sleep now, while you still can!"  I wanted to scratch their eyes out.  But I couldn't reach their eyes from my wheelchair.  Lucky for them...

Sierra and Maya's birth story - Part 1

People always ask how we reacted when we found out we were having twins.  The thing is, Will seemed to know, right from the start.  Right from the first few weeks, he would pat my stomach and ask "How are the girls?"  I never took him seriously (you can't blame me, he's a bit of a goof).  In fact, I told him he was crazy - "There's no twins in my family, there's no twins in your family, it's not twins.  Plus, it could be a boy.  You're crazy". 

I had my first ultrasound at 13 weeks, and it seemed to take a long time.  But then, how was I supposed to know the difference?  I'd never had one before.  Will wasn't allowed to come in until the end.  In the mean time I got tired of the silence and started chatting up the technician.  Amidst the chatting, I asked "It's not twins right?  Cause my husband keeps saying it's twins and I want to tell him he's WRONG".  *long pause* Ultrasound attendent: "Why, do twins run in your family?"  Me (growing suspicious) "No...".  *another pause*  "Well they do now!"

I don't even remember if I said anything.  I think I just sat there giggling.  Then they brought Will in - she played it cool, let him look at the screen, he smiled at me, squeezed my hand.  The technician showed us the legs and arms, and the heartbeat.  "So, that's your baby.  Oh, and here's your other baby!" and she slid the camera to the other side.

At this point, most of the dads spew their coffee.  Or freeze, dumbfounded, with their mouths open.  Or cry.  Not my husband.  Anybody remember that Scotiabank commercial with the guy in the shirt?  This one: 



That's what MY husband did.  Right down to the arms.  Right there in the ultrasound room.  It was pretty funny.  What happened the next day, however, not so funny.

We got a call from my doctor, who had received the results from the ultrasound.  She told us that the babies were "monochorionic" ('one chord' - there was only one placenta for both of them).  This meant they were identical twins.  Then she told us that the ultrasound technician couldn't find a barrier between the babies.  This meant they were most likely "monoamnionic" ('one sack', meaning they were both in there together).  This is apparently a very dangerous type of pregnancy - basically a %50 chance of survival.  She said that she wasn't qualified to be our doctor anymore, and she was referring us to a special high risk pregnancy clinic at the local hospital.

At first I was kind of numb.  It took about 24 hours before I actually cried, and I only ever cried once.  I guess I figured "well, it is what it is, and being upset isn't going to change anything".  I'd do whatever I could, whatever the doctors told me to do, and pray like crazy that everything would turn out okay.  I don't think I ever lost that initial fear - it was with me until the last day.

What followed was a bit of an emotional roller coaster.  Every two weeks I went to the hospital for an ultrasound and a consultation.  They found that there actually was a barrier, so the pregnancy went from "ultra high risk" to "medium risk".  (incidentally, we were suddenly much less interesting to the doctors - which was fine with me!).  I was still teaching (I teach grade 1-3 elementary music - best job in the world), I just missed a day every two weeks to pop into the hospital and get smeared with "ultragoo".  Two days before Christmas we found out that the twins would be girls, thus confirming that Will is indeed clairvoyant.  He bought a lottery ticket that day...sadly, his powers didn't extend quite that far.

The first week of January, I was back teaching, and I took off a half day to go in for what was quickly becoming a routine hospital visit.  It was the first time Will didn't come to the hospital - my mom came instead.  I was at 22 weeks.  And something was wrong.  They said I was showing signs of preterm labour.  Apparently I had what's called an "incompetent cervix".

Now, let's pause for a moment and giggle.  Seriously, an "incompetent cervix"?  They couldn't come up with a better medical term than that?  It's so insulting.  I've never been called incompetent in my life!!!

Long story short, the doctor put me on immediate bed rest and booked an emergency surgery for the next day.  I had to call my school:  "Hi, sorry, I won't be coming in."  "You mean for the rest of the day?"  "No, until next April.  Okay, bye now."  The surgery went well (I was hell bound and determined not to have the spend the night in the hospital.  I was up and walking within 2 HOURS of the epidural).  The hospital visits became weekly.

Then came 4 months of bed rest.  I was lucky, I got "modified bed rest".  In other words, I was allowed to putter around the house.  I was allowed to take the stairs 4 times a day (not easy when your kitchen and tv are on a different floor than your bathroom).  If I went out, in was in a wheelchair:

I don't even look pregnant when I was sitting down.  People couldn't figure out why I was in a wheelchair.

Side note:  You know what's awesome when you're stuck in a wheelchair?  The carts at Fortinos.  I used to beg Will to take me shopping so I could ride around in the cart.

I figured out how to centre my title! Oh yeah, and I started a blog.

Cause I'm awesome.  And y'all are fascinated by my foibles.  Right?  Okay, maybe not.

As you can see, I've decided to start a blog.  I've always enjoyed journaling, although I'll freely admit that I was one of those people who would get a pretty new journal, write in it two or three times, then find it again 3 years later.  (haha, I even did it with blogging - I in fact already have a blog, a livejournal account started when I was in high school, and since abandoned with the same callousness as it's previous, non-digital cousins).

Perhaps this time will be different.  At the very least, I hope to use this site to chronicle the next few years of my life.  Since I sneak into the computer room far more often than I sit down with a journal, this is definitely a better strategy.

Anyways, welcome to the house of Dawe.  The most exciting things in the house of Dawe are the two little cuties in the picture, Sierra and Maya.  Our identical twin girls, born April 22, 2010 (Earth Day babies!)