It All Begins...

I woke up on Sunday, March 26th, 2006, with a severe leg cramp and abdominal pain. I had been growing so much recently that I didn’t think much of it. I attributed the cramping to growing pains or Braxton Hicks contractions. Jeff and I went to church where I noticed the pains were coming at a regular interval of every three minutes. I still didn’t think much of it…it was way too early for me to be experiencing labor; I was only twenty five weeks pregnant. By evening, the pain had not ceased or even slowed, so I called the doctor, who ordered me to go to the hospital immediately. There was an urgency in her voice that made me panic. I broke down in tears. I knew it was much too early for our daughters to come into this world.

I was admitted into Labor and Delivery at Saint Francis Hospital. My initial examination revealed that I was, in fact, in labor and already dilated to a two. It seemed as though delivery was imminent. Steps, however, were taken to slow down, if not stop, the labor. They pumped me full of medications, some effective, others not. I was given the first of two steroid shots to strengthen our daughters’ lungs in case the labor could not be stopped. I wouldn’t be able to receive the second shot until twenty four hours after the first. After being given a bolus of a drug called Magnesium Sulfate, I faded in and out of consciousness. My bed was inverted so that my feet were above my head in an effort to relieve the pressure the babies were putting on my cervix. This, in turn, made it extremely difficult for me to breathe, so I was put on oxygen. Everything that could be, was being done to prevent delivery, but the prognosis was not good. Suffering from the various side effects of Magnesium Sulfate, not only did I feel as though my body was on fire, I often hallucinated and became very emotional. I can remember waking up the next morning and looking at my husband, Jeff. In my eyes, he had a huge piece of bacon draped over his head. I can also vaguely remember asking about a donkey in the corner and an imaginary box on the floor. Though somewhat amusing, it was clear that I was in pretty bad shape. We were told that I would not leave the hospital until the girls were born. They moved me to a “long term” room where I spent the next nine days fighting for our daughters. Every additional day I could remain pregnant was crucial and precious. The head of the Saint Francis NICU, Dr. Gomez, visited my room on day two. We discussed all of the possibilities of the next few days and he set our first goal at reaching twenty seven weeks. Statistically, the mortality rate of premature babies drops dramatically once they reach week twenty seven. It seemed as though I was making progress, so they slowly lowered the level of my Magnesium drip, and I eventually was allowed to lie flat rather than practically upside down. I began to feel better and breathing became a little easier. The contractions slowed to every four to eight minutes, then eventually tapered off to once or twice an hour, which I was told was acceptable. I tried to remain optimistic, but wondered how I would be able to survive three or four more weeks.

I had my best day on Sunday, April 2nd. The contractions had all but stopped and I began feeling a little bit like my old self. It seemed as though things were turning around. In retrospect, that day was the calm before the storm. I started bleeding that night. Naturally, I panicked. At first, I thought my water had broken. The nurses reassured me it was normal; everything was okay. Nights were the worst. It seemed as though the contractions picked up and everything got out of hand. I didn’t tell anyone, but that night, I had the strongest feeling that the girls would be born early that week. My body just didn’t feel right.

Finally, Tuesday morning, for the first time in over a week, Dr. Lunn examined me. The bleeding had gotten worse, but Dr. Lunn wasn’t concerned because the contractions hadn’t worsened. The blood had tested negative for amniotic fluid, so as long as the contractions were kept in check, everything was fine. Later that morning, though, the contractions picked up and didn’t stop. The bleeding increased significantly, and I was having monster contractions, so the nurse notified Dr. Lunn. She examined me for the second time that day around 2:30 pm and discovered that I was fully dilated. Our daughters would have to be born immediately. A rush of nurses flooded in to prep me for surgery, while I tried to wrap my mind around the reality of delivering prematurely. The fear of what would become of our daughters overwhelmed me, but the guilt of feeling a sense of relief that my ten day ordeal would soon be over was almost too much to bear. What kind of mother was I to be relieved that my babies were going to be born over three months too soon? After initial panic, I was surprisingly calm. They wheeled me in to surgery, Jeff at my side, and it wasn’t long before we became “mommy” and “daddy.”