Colin and Shire's birth story, Part 4

Part 4 - Life in the NICU

If you're skipping over these Birth Story posts, I don't blame you one bit. :) I'm just telling it as it happened with the details that feel fresh this time of year. And for those who read this blog for the fun stuff, (home decorating, refinished furniture, etc), it has been a busy last few days and the garage is full of some exciting new pieces and projects!!! There will be some fun posts coming up in the next few weeks of all the goodies. :)

The babies were not allowed in the post natal room with me, which was sad, but it also made me get up and get moving almost immediately after the surgery. Matt came to the hospital early the next morning, helped me into a wheel chair, and rolled me down to the NICU. First we went to Colin’s room. I felt a huge welt in my throat when I learned our babies were not even in the same room. When I looked in his incubator he was sleeping and all swaddled up, (except for his right arm which was left out for an IV). That made me sad. Did it bother him? Did he feel the IV? I got to hold him right away. I couldn’t believe I was holding my own flesh and blood. I loved him so much. It was difficult holding him at first. For one thing, I’d never held anything so small before. Also, he had so many cords and wires stuck on him that were somehow hanging out of his swaddled blanket, it was awkward! We got used to that fast, but it was tricky in the beginning. I loved holding him, regardless. It felt right. :)

{Some kind nurses made each baby a sign for their incubator}

{First time holding my son}

I hated putting him back in the incubator. Hated it.

Next we strolled on to see Shire in the room next door. It made me happy when I realized they were right across from each other, on opposite sides of a thick wall. There wasn’t a window or anything, but it reassured my momma’s heart that they really weren’t very far from each other. When I saw Shire I had so many thoughts and feelings fall over me. First, she was beautiful.

A perfect looking baby girl with delicate, feminine features. Second, she was not swaddled. She was hanging out naked with only a diaper on. Was she cold? This bothered me for a week straight until she was finally allowed to be swaddled. They couldn’t swaddle her right away because her tiny veins in her arms were too small for the IVs, so they did something called a central line in her belly button. They removed the umbilical cord and ran things into her belly button. As long as she had the line in her belly button, she wasn’t allowed to be swaddled.

Because of this central line in her belly button, we were not allowed to hold her. I had no choice but to get up out of my wheel chair, which was painful and stand by her incubator to talk to her and touch her skin. A kind nurse came up behind me and put an extra robe over my shoulders. I had forgotten that all I was wearing was my large undies and my hospital gown which I thought was secured in the back. It was not. I might have been mortified if I wasn’t staring at my daughter for the first time. It hurt my arms not to hold her.

Three days after their birth I was released from the hospital. It was November 2, my Dad’s birthday, and exactly one month from when I was admitted. For weeks I held onto hope that I would get to go home, but after my babies were born and I realized they would need to stay at the hospital for a while, leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. The day I was scheduled to leave we waited until late in the evening so we could spend as much time as we could with our babies. I cried saying goodbye to them, even though I knew I would return the next morning. It didn’t feel right walking into the cold, dark November air, with empty arms. It was the first time I’d been outside in a month. And it should have been a joyful occasion. But joy was so lost somewhere deep inside me. I felt heavy sadness and cried the whole way home. Actually, I cried the whole way home and then every day and night for 3 weeks straight. I had gained 19lbs with Colin and Shire and lost 29lbs after 2 weeks post pardum. I was

so sad.

Once home, I started a schedule that would be grueling, emotionally and physically. We thought it would be best for Matt to go back to work right away and wait to take his time off for when the babies were home. It seemed like the right thing. But I was still recovering from surgery and just getting out of bed by myself hurt, let alone the process of pumping every couple of hours. Besides the physical recovery, the loneliness and missing my babies was overwhelming. I will never forget my Mom dropping

everything

during this time to come and help me. She would prepare food and coax me to eat. She drove me every morning to the hospital the first week since I wasn’t supposed to drive yet post-surgery. Because of the swine flu epidemic, no one, and I mean

no one

was allowed into the NICU besides Matt and me. So, my Mom would drive me to the hospital and sit in the lobby for 2 hours waiting until I was done visiting/feeding my babies, (we were limited to one hour at a time with each child). My schedule revolved around either pumping milk or visiting my babies. I'd go by myself every morning, (once I started driving myself after the first week), and then again with Matt in the evening after we'd scarf down a quick dinner together. The first day visiting the hospital was the worst. I walked into the NICU by myself, and went to Colin's room first. Just upon

seeing

Colin, I started crying. I was embarrassed. I just knelt close to his incubator and told him I was sorry to have left him and that I missed him.

A week went by and I felt physically stronger. Then good news came! Shire’s nurse told us we’d be able to hold her the next day! I was SO excited!!!! That day I put on a special dress for Shire. It was a strapless dress so that she could feel my skin, and it had lots of bright colors, which I thought she’d enjoy looking at. I totally forgot about the stupid hospital gowns we were instructed to wear every time we went to visit the babies. Ugh. I hated all the rules. But, it really didn’t matter what I was wearing, what mattered was getting to hold our Shire Grace for the first time.

It was like lifting air. She smiled for me and it lit up the room! Gazing at my daughter was/is like seeing my heart outside of my body. Now it was even harder to leave her behind. She would be thriving even faster if she were home, I thought.

Tomorrow is the finale to this birth story, (finally!!!) Stay tuned to find out how/when our babies come home.

~Chelsea

Colin and Shire's birth story, Part 3

Part 3: Delivery Day!

Here are Part 1 and Part 2 if you missed them.

The morning of October 29, (34wks pregnant), was like any other day in the hospital. Judy, my angel, was assigned to me. She let me finish my breakfast before coming in to start the non stress test. She got the monitors in place over the babies fairly easily, and after an hour or so of continual contracting, she became concerned. She asked, “Are you feeling these contractions?” “No” I said. “Well you should be. They are quite strong. I am going to go ahead and call for the doctor to examine you”. Having never gone through labor before I didn’t know what to expect, but if this nurse said that these contractions were “strong”, then I felt like I must be superhuman because I did not feel any pain or discomfort at all, and I was not on any pain medication. The doctor came in, did a quick examination and said very matter of factly, “You are 3cm so we'll go ahead and get the babies out via c-section today”.

Just like that?!

I turned to Judy, one of the few people I trusted in this place, and told her it wasn’t time. She stroked my hair and told me it would be okay. I pleaded with the doctor to let the babies stay in. I wasn’t in any discomfort, and according to the monitors that were measuring my babies heartbeats, they were happy as clams themselves. Somewhere in my head I recalled hearing that it can take a woman a looong time to dilate fully. I figured that it took 4 full weeks for me to go from 1 – 3cm, so why not wait another few weeks??? I called my husband, I called my Mom and Dad. They came. Matt was with me when they took me down to Labor and Delivery. We were briefed on what would happen in the delivery room. I wasn't nervous. The Lord gave me a peaceful, calming strength in those moments.

The delivery room was peaceful in an eery way. It was all white and had bright 'walmart' lighting. Everyone was chatting casually as they prepped for the c-section surgery, (some of the nurses were talking about the options for breakfast in the cafeteria that morning). It was weird. My whole world and life were about to change tremendously and I was listening to chit chat so casual I thought I was standing by a water cooler. But, it was kind of relaxing…was that on purpose? Maybe that’s their secret trick J

When they told me everything was ready, I asked the doctor if they would please lower the sheet , (that blocked my view of what I can only imagine looked like a horror scene from a movie), when they pulled the babies out so I could see them right away. That was my only request. I had no others. Matt sat next to my head and we held hands, waiting anxiously to see our babies.

Colin Joshua was first as he was on the bottom. It had been that way from the very beginning. Shire was practically doing jumping jacks on his poor bottom. It was a matter of seconds between when they told me they were starting to cut to when he was out. Amazing! I heard his cry, but no one lowered the sheet. I heard someone say “Here he is!” I had my eyes focused at the top of the sheet that was the wall between my son and me. I was trying hard to see him. They tried to lift him up but it wasn’t high enough for me to see anything. Finally I saw his tiny bloody hand which briefly flopped over the side of the sheet and then he was whisked away to be examined, cleaned, etc.

It took them a bit longer to get Shire Grace. She had made her home up by my ribs so they had to really ‘search’ for her. When she came out she did not cry, but not because she couldn't. She was quiet and ready for this moment. They lifted her up, not much higher than Colin, but this time I saw her little, tiny face peering over the sheet. Her eyes were open, just like that. She was ready to be born. She stared right at me for a brief second before she, too, was whisked away.

It seemed like a long time to me between when they took them away to be checked and when they brought them over to us. Understandable. They were premature at 34 weeks, so the team wanted to make sure they were okay. When they brought them over they were completely swaddled with tiny little hats on. We had our first family photos :)

 

We were told both babies scored 10s on their Apgar test, and that they were going to be taken down to the NICU for some further monitoring. 10s on their Apgar. “Great!!!” I thought. Surely we’d be able to take them home in a few days when I was discharged from the hospital. I was so encouraged! Matt went with the kids to take some pictures and I chatted with the staff about hospital food as they closed me up.

 

Turns out, it would be more than a few days until the kids would come home and while there are children born every day in far, far, worse circumstances, these circumstances were very difficult for us.

Coming up - life in the NICU and coming home with empty arms. But don't worry, there's a happy 'ending' ahead :)

~Chelsea

Colin and Shire's birth story, Part 2

Part 2: Joy and joy robbers

Here is Part 1 if you missed it.

A few days in to my hospital stay, my Dad, (who visited daily along with my Mom and Matt - I did get a few other very sweet visitors, but my parents and husband faithfully visited every single day, all at different times which made the days go by quickly), came by with a plastic bag from Michaels craft store. He pulled up a chair and showed me his purchases: a book, ‘Teach Yourself Crochet’, a few crochet needles, and some spools of yarn. He excitedly thought learning to crochet would be a great way to pass the time. So sweet! After he left I opened the book and got to work. After an hour I threw everything in the bag, unable to complete the first, most basic, stitch in the book.

That afternoon my nurse sent Judy in. Judy was my angel. She was a seasoned prenatal nurse in her 60s and very mothering and compassionate. She sat on my bed with me and showed me the beginning crochet stitch. She told me to practice that while she tended to her patients and that she would be back. I'd practiced that stitch for an hour straight when she came back in again. She showed me a 2^nd stitch, and left me to practice that one for a while. She came back and showed me a 3^rd. After the 3^rd she said I knew enough to make a basic blanket if I wanted to. I had a goal! I would make my babies blankets. I spent every day crocheting. Nurses who were not assigned to me would come in just to see the handiwork.

*At the end of 3 weeks I did finish 2 blankets, neither of which resmembled an identifiable shape. :)

{Shire and Colin's blankets}

One afternoon, my nurse came in to examine me, (a daily part of the schedule).  I set aside my crochet materials and told her I hoped to have the blankets done before the babies came. She smiled slightly and asked if I was using wool yarn. I told her I thought my yarn was a wool blend. She advised that I don’t let the blankets touch my babies because they might have a wool allergy. Joy robber!

My family and friends pleaded with the hospital to let them throw me a baby shower in the hospital cafeteria. It was swine flu season, so my doctors were very hesitant but finally agreed to let me attend for 45 minutes, from a wheel chair, wearing a mask. I’ll never forget the morning of the shower. My Mom had gone shopping and picked up a couple maternity tops for me to choose from to wear to the shower. She and my sister arrived hours before the shower to help me get ready, armed with jewelry options and make up. I felt pretty for the first time in a while. My sister even drew awesome red lips on my face mask.:) When I was wheeled down to the cafeteria, the faces, the décor, the mound of gifts….everything took my breath away. It was completely heartwarming. God used each woman there, (and those who sent well wishes from afar), to envelope me in love and support.

{My Mom framed my baby shower invitation which was a photo I had taken at the beach a few months back of my belly, toes, and the surf}

 

{A couple photos with my sister and Mom before going downstairs for the shower}

 

{With some of the incredible women who made the trip. I truly felt loved}

*Notice no mask. I was NOT wearing that thing for any pictures.

 

{My brother showed up to help transport gifts from the hospital to our apartment}

 

With only 45 min to attend, I was wheeled around the large circle of friends and family for embraces, encouragement, and then I was set up for the business of gift opening. 45 min flew by, and after half the gifts had been opened and a few bites of cake eaten, I was wheeled back to my room. My Mom and sister brought a few more gifts up for me to open from my bed, and then opened the rest themselves later. I was so excited about what we’d been given! We were set! We had all that we needed and then some.

The same nurse who had scolded me for using wool yarn asked me a few days later how my shower went. I beamed and told her how generous everyone was and what we got, what the cribs would look like, etc. I was excitedly putting everything together in my head imagining what the nursery might look like. When I was finished telling her about some of the things I was excited about, she sat down and literally begged me not to put the bumpers we’d been given, (that we picked out), on the cribs. She gave me a long winded explanation about how bumpers might be a possible cause of SIDS, (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), and that it reduces air circulation in the cribs, and that it could be putting my babies in real danger. She almost became tearful as she asked me to reconsider adding bumpers to the cribs. Here I was, layed up in a bed day in and day out, having been outside of my room once in a matter of weeks, constantly thinking about life with newborn twins and what a transition that will be...and this nurse was begging and pleading with me not to use bumpers. Joy robber strikes again! I wasn't even arguing with her, even told her I would think about it and do my own research. I finally asked her to leave, then asked for a different nurse to finish that shift.

This nurse planted a seed in my mind and heart that made me doubt my voice, my mothers heart, and my maternal instinct. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last, in this birth story where my ability as a mother would be questioned. And I am sorry to say, I let the doubt make my voice small.

But, I eventually found my voice again. :) Stay tuned!

~Chelsea