I knew from the beginning that given my financial needs and my personality, I would be a working mom. Going back to work was hard for the first week, but it really has done wonders for my overall sanity. I miss the babies like crazy while I’m away and I worry about them, but I also feel like I’m a better mother to them after having some time for myself. I don’t regret the decision at all, but I also acknowledge that I might change my mind about it in a year or two when the boys are older. It has shocked me to see how many women (mostly relatives) are shocked that I went back to work, especially since most of them went back to work themselves after they had their own kids. It seems that they all expected me to stay home even though I was upfront about going back to work from the very beginning. For whatever reason, they seem to think that going back to work when you have one baby is fine, but going back to work with twins is unthinkable. Um, hi—do you know how much diapers and formula costs?
Luckily I work with a lot of moms around my age and they have been a wonderful support system for me. Watching them and talking to them about their kids shows me that being a working mom is not crazy or selfish.
As far as feedings and schedules, it does get easier around the 3 month mark. I saw real progress when the boys hit 4 months. We aren’t successful at feeding them at the same time in bouncy chairs (way too messy), so what we try to do is stagger their feedings by about 30 minutes. We feed one and then the other, and most days that works out just fine. Occasionally they will decide they are both starving at the same exact moment and that’s horrible if you are alone, but it rarely happens these days. So, when A wakes at 5 a.m. to eat, his brother is still asleep 90 percent of the time. H feeds him, puts him back to bed, then feeds B, who is sometimes still asleep or just starting to wake up. By feeding them one right after another, this sets up the 30 minute gap between their feedings for the day.
Here’s how our schedule has been lately:
5:00 am: A awakes and is fed
5:30 am: B awakes or is woken and is fed
6:00 am: I leave for work
Both babies go back to sleep until anywhere between 7:00 and 7:30.
H leaves for work at 7:30 and our au pair takes over.
Babies are awake and happy to play.
Baby A eats around 8:00
Baby B eats around 8:30
Naps are attempted around 9:30-10:00 and last until the next feeding if we’re lucky.
Babies eat again between 12:00 and 12:30
Afternoon naps are often taken around 1:30-2:00.
Babies eat again around 3:00-3:30.
I get home at 4:00 and play with the babies, who are usually very active and pleasant this time of day if naps were successful.
5:30: I make dinner while the babies watch.
6:00: H and I wolf down our food as the babies start to fuss.
6:15-6:30: H and I both take a baby to feed for the final feeding of the day. This feeding, the most important and predictable of our day, always consists of at least 6 ounces.
7:00-7:30: The babies get their baths—H and I each take care of a baby.
7:30 pm: Both babies are in their cribs with lights out. They are falling asleep faster and faster with less fussing each night.
8:00: The babies are asleep and H and I get our one hour together before we go to bed at 9:00.
Anywhere between 2:00 and 3:30 am: Baby B usually calls out for a pacifier or diaper change but quickly goes back to sleep
5:00 am: The process starts all over
Hope some of this helps. I found the best thing was setting their bedtime at 7:30 and having a predictable routine each night starting with the 6:15-6:30 bottle. No matter how bad the day has been, their bedtime routine has resulted in two sleeping babies by 8:00 for the last two months. This has been wonderful, because I know that no matter how bad things have been, everyone will be calm at 8:00 and stay that way for at least 5 or 6 hours.
Now that I’ve written out an actual schedule I’m just waiting for a sleep regression to come and mess it all up.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Hit the Pause Button
I spend so much of my life waiting for "the next step" rather than living in the moment. When I was going through infertility treatments, all I wanted was to be pregnant. When I was pregnant, I looked forward to the babies actually being here. Now that the babies are here, I'm anticipating their first words and being able to actually go places with them, like the zoo.
I need to slow down. This morning, when H got up to feed the babies at 5 a.m., I got up to help him instead of getting an extra 15 minutes of sleep before work. He didn't need my help, but I wanted to feed one of my boys. They won't need these early morning feedings much longer. I want to treasure this time.
I didn't know that having twins would be this hard for me to handle. I didn't know how tough it would be to split my attention between the two of them. A laughed for the first time yesterday while H tickled him, and I couldn't really hear him because I was comforting a screaming B. There's rarely time to just sit and marvel at them. Would time please slow down for me?
Since these are my first and perhaps only babies (we haven't ruled out adoption one day), I'm trying to really live each moment with them. It's so hard. I want to scoop both of them up in my arms at the same time when I get home from work but I can't. I give myself permission to buy them super cute but expensive clothes from Gym.boree because this may be the only time I get to go through this. I cry when I look at the newborn pictures taken the first few weeks of their lives while I was still in the hospital because I wasn't there and I can't have that time with them back. I am finally coming out of the cloud that I think was a mixture of PPD and PTS. As hard as everything has been, it was all worth it. I finally feel again.
I need to slow down. This morning, when H got up to feed the babies at 5 a.m., I got up to help him instead of getting an extra 15 minutes of sleep before work. He didn't need my help, but I wanted to feed one of my boys. They won't need these early morning feedings much longer. I want to treasure this time.
I didn't know that having twins would be this hard for me to handle. I didn't know how tough it would be to split my attention between the two of them. A laughed for the first time yesterday while H tickled him, and I couldn't really hear him because I was comforting a screaming B. There's rarely time to just sit and marvel at them. Would time please slow down for me?
Since these are my first and perhaps only babies (we haven't ruled out adoption one day), I'm trying to really live each moment with them. It's so hard. I want to scoop both of them up in my arms at the same time when I get home from work but I can't. I give myself permission to buy them super cute but expensive clothes from Gym.boree because this may be the only time I get to go through this. I cry when I look at the newborn pictures taken the first few weeks of their lives while I was still in the hospital because I wasn't there and I can't have that time with them back. I am finally coming out of the cloud that I think was a mixture of PPD and PTS. As hard as everything has been, it was all worth it. I finally feel again.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sleep and Such
I had a wonderful weekend with the babies. As you may have noticed, I'm rather undecided on how to refer to the boys in my blog--I want to keep things anonymous--so I think I'll just refer to them as A and B. It seems too impersonal, but I think it's for the best as I still don't want people I know reading my blog.
Anyhow, A slept all night long both Saturday and Sunday without a single peep. B only woke about twice for some minor comforting. It was great. I've learned however that this could change at any moment, so I'm not going to expect this trend to continue. I'm still taking things one day at a time. I also spent a lot of the weekend on nap training and was able to get the boys to take all of their naps in their crib this weekend. Unfortunately their naps were much shorter than usual, but at least we're making progress. The secret so far has been putting the boys down earlier than I normally do, so that they're not already overtired when I start the nap process with them. At least, I think this is the secret. They could just be messing with me. A has mastered rolling over, and as a result I've spent a lot of time checking on him and pulling him back to his side when I find him on his stomach asleep. He awakes for a moment when I roll him back and grunts his annoyaance but falls back asleep. With this new development, I've been sleeping less as he's been sleeping more because I keep checking on him all night. I still can't see how my best friend lets her newborn sleep on his stomach and even puts him down that way. I certainly don't want anything bad to happen to him, so please understand that when I complain about how easy everything has been for her--from conception to childbirth to her baby sleeping through the night, albeit on his stomach--it's not that I wish she had a hard time like I did or anything. God, no, I wouldn't wish what happened to me on anybody. I just marvel at how she takes everything for granted, especially after the hell I've been through. But whatever. I'm moving on.
My good friend at work--one of the only people who knows that I did IVF- has started going through her own testing for IF. She's been trying for over a year now and finally gotten up the courage to talk to her doctor about it. Her initial ultrasound showed a lot of cysts, but the docs don't really know anything yet. My heart is breaking for her. She came out of her first appointment shell shocked, just as I did a year and a half ago. I'm glad she knows about what I went through so we can talk openly about it now. She was a major shoulder for me to lean on last year, and she now takes some comfort in the fact that I've been through this and can help her through it. H is afraid that I'll be reliving too much of everything by being there for her, but I don't think it will be a problem. One of the only good things to come out of my experience is that I can be there for other people who are struggling. My friend has commented that no one else listens to her the way I do--she now sees for herself that that only people who have been through this really get it. I wish this was something she never had to learn. I've directed her to the blogosphere, so you may be seeing her around in some form or another soon. I don't know what I would have done without my blog friends. Thank you all for being there.
Anyhow, A slept all night long both Saturday and Sunday without a single peep. B only woke about twice for some minor comforting. It was great. I've learned however that this could change at any moment, so I'm not going to expect this trend to continue. I'm still taking things one day at a time. I also spent a lot of the weekend on nap training and was able to get the boys to take all of their naps in their crib this weekend. Unfortunately their naps were much shorter than usual, but at least we're making progress. The secret so far has been putting the boys down earlier than I normally do, so that they're not already overtired when I start the nap process with them. At least, I think this is the secret. They could just be messing with me. A has mastered rolling over, and as a result I've spent a lot of time checking on him and pulling him back to his side when I find him on his stomach asleep. He awakes for a moment when I roll him back and grunts his annoyaance but falls back asleep. With this new development, I've been sleeping less as he's been sleeping more because I keep checking on him all night. I still can't see how my best friend lets her newborn sleep on his stomach and even puts him down that way. I certainly don't want anything bad to happen to him, so please understand that when I complain about how easy everything has been for her--from conception to childbirth to her baby sleeping through the night, albeit on his stomach--it's not that I wish she had a hard time like I did or anything. God, no, I wouldn't wish what happened to me on anybody. I just marvel at how she takes everything for granted, especially after the hell I've been through. But whatever. I'm moving on.
My good friend at work--one of the only people who knows that I did IVF- has started going through her own testing for IF. She's been trying for over a year now and finally gotten up the courage to talk to her doctor about it. Her initial ultrasound showed a lot of cysts, but the docs don't really know anything yet. My heart is breaking for her. She came out of her first appointment shell shocked, just as I did a year and a half ago. I'm glad she knows about what I went through so we can talk openly about it now. She was a major shoulder for me to lean on last year, and she now takes some comfort in the fact that I've been through this and can help her through it. H is afraid that I'll be reliving too much of everything by being there for her, but I don't think it will be a problem. One of the only good things to come out of my experience is that I can be there for other people who are struggling. My friend has commented that no one else listens to her the way I do--she now sees for herself that that only people who have been through this really get it. I wish this was something she never had to learn. I've directed her to the blogosphere, so you may be seeing her around in some form or another soon. I don't know what I would have done without my blog friends. Thank you all for being there.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
It'll Be Okay
I've spent so many posts complaining lately that I want to acknowledge that I really am starting to feel better emotionally overall. I have many, many more good moments than bad ones with the babies now, and even when things get tough, like when Baby B decides to pee on me while Baby A is screaming to be fed, I take it much more in stride. The babies are really cute, and I'm trying to enjoy this time as much as possible. They've started interacting a tiny bit with each other, which is so fun to watch. I'm happy I get to be their Mom.
Yesterday I tried to get them to nap in their cribs again thinking it might be easier now that their night sleep has improved, and that was just a big old excercise in futility. Not only were we all miserable, they didn't get any decent nap time and last night they awoke quite a few times in the 2:00-4:00 a.m. range. H and I are exhausted today. I love how easy the sleep books make their "programs" sound. I know I have to keep trying though, because soon they'll really be too big to nap in their bouncy chairs. Please keep the nap tips coming...especially you twin moms out there!
Yesterday I tried to get them to nap in their cribs again thinking it might be easier now that their night sleep has improved, and that was just a big old excercise in futility. Not only were we all miserable, they didn't get any decent nap time and last night they awoke quite a few times in the 2:00-4:00 a.m. range. H and I are exhausted today. I love how easy the sleep books make their "programs" sound. I know I have to keep trying though, because soon they'll really be too big to nap in their bouncy chairs. Please keep the nap tips coming...especially you twin moms out there!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
One Year Later
A year ago I was in 2WW hell, about to find out that I was pregnant. Looking at my posts from that period, I was much more in control and on top of things than I feel now, even though I remember vividly what a difficult time it was. I was propelled with the hope of what could be even though I was scared. Now that I've faced almost losing my life and all chances at having a normal child-bearing experience, I find I'm a very different person. I'm tired. I am so very grateful for my two babies, but I am so tired emotionally.
Things are getting better with the babies every day, but in some ways I know I'll never heal from this experience. I called my uberfertile former best friend last week, who just had her second unplanned baby. She joyfully recounted how easy the birthing process was. Four pushes and he was out! She complained about all the little sleeping noises and grunts he makes and matter-of-factly stated that she puts him on his stomach to sleep because he gets more rest that way. The poor thing is only 2 weeks old and she's putting him on his stomach to sleep. Um, hello, you do know about SIDS, right? She answers that she did this with her first baby and she survived.
Now when people ask me if I plan on having more kids, I simply answer that I can't. The chance of HELLP recurring is too high so the doctors have forbidden it. You wouldn't believe the pity I see on people's faces. It surprises me. I'm an infertile with no hope of treatment now, and knowing there's nothing I can do about it does give me an odd sense of calm. Granted, I'm still pissed off that I can't get pregnant like most women I know, but that desperate longing I once felt is gone. I've had my experience, and while it wasn't a smooth ride at the end, I got to feel what it's like to grow two little people. Now I just need to accept that I have a body that failed its job in delivering and feeding those two little people, and that jackasses like my former best friend will always make me feel the sting of the injustice of it all.
Things are getting better with the babies every day, but in some ways I know I'll never heal from this experience. I called my uberfertile former best friend last week, who just had her second unplanned baby. She joyfully recounted how easy the birthing process was. Four pushes and he was out! She complained about all the little sleeping noises and grunts he makes and matter-of-factly stated that she puts him on his stomach to sleep because he gets more rest that way. The poor thing is only 2 weeks old and she's putting him on his stomach to sleep. Um, hello, you do know about SIDS, right? She answers that she did this with her first baby and she survived.
Now when people ask me if I plan on having more kids, I simply answer that I can't. The chance of HELLP recurring is too high so the doctors have forbidden it. You wouldn't believe the pity I see on people's faces. It surprises me. I'm an infertile with no hope of treatment now, and knowing there's nothing I can do about it does give me an odd sense of calm. Granted, I'm still pissed off that I can't get pregnant like most women I know, but that desperate longing I once felt is gone. I've had my experience, and while it wasn't a smooth ride at the end, I got to feel what it's like to grow two little people. Now I just need to accept that I have a body that failed its job in delivering and feeding those two little people, and that jackasses like my former best friend will always make me feel the sting of the injustice of it all.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Beautiful
After a few very rough days before I went back to work last week, things started looking a little brighter. Now it seems that I am starting to have a few more good days than bad ones, so perhaps I am starting to turn the corner on this whole depression thing.
The boys were baptized this weekend, and it was absolutely beautiful. Everything went amazingly well, and for once our babies weren't the ones crying. My sister's newborn did the honors of squacking her head off during the party. That made me feel much, much better, since the past 2 weeks it's been my boys causing a commotion at family gatherings. The boys were attentive and pleasant during the ceremony, and then they slept like angels at the restaurant afterwards where we had the party. I am so glad we ignored my MIL's constant pestering to have the party at our house, because being able to just relax and enjoy the day out was so much better than trying to host something at our house. It was expensive but worth every penny. I have no idea how we would have cleaned and cooked for a party of that size with twins.
MIL, however, seemed sorely disappointed that she couldn't camp out at our house with all her side of the family who came from out of town. She still managed to come up with an excuse to get all of her relatives over to our house afterwards, but it was only for a few minutes luckily. She wanted everyone to have a tour of our house, and H obliged but made a point of saying that we weren't up to entertaining with twins (I mean, the whole reason we paid to have the party elsewhere is because we didn't have time to prepare the house for guests!). She was pouty all day, but I couldn't feel bad about it because it is just so hard to get anything done around the house with two babies, especially when one is still colicky and neither of them wanted to sleep through the night this week. I don't understand why she can't see how exhausted we are as it is. The weirdest thing--in the middle of the party, once both boys woke up from their naps, she asked H is he would do her a favor. Sure, he said...what is it? She asked if she could take the babies back to our house now that they were awake and have some time alone with them. Uhhh, no....H replied. Everybody here drove a long way to see the babies and this is their party...why would you take them from it??? Weird.
The thing is, she sees the babies a lot. It's not like she's getting less time with them than my parents. I think she misses the times when we had to rely on her to help take care of them by herself while I was sick, though I know she's genuinely glad I'm better. I think she got too much of a taste of playing "mom" instead of "grandmom." And the thing is, I'm not giving up my rights as Mom at these events, now that I'm finally in the picture. We let her feed one of the babies during the party, but H and I remained the babies' primary caregivers. Now that we're both back at work, the weekends are our main time to interact with the babies too, and we're not willing to just pass them off. We're making up for a lot of lost bonding time.
Anyhow, aside from MIL being MIL, everything was really nice and I think everyone had a really good time. H's brothers actually made it (his one brother has never visited us the entire time we have been married) and the weather couldn't have been better.
As far as me being back at work, I'm doing pretty well with it. I miss the babies a lot while I'm gone, but the separation also gives me a chance to recharge and be better with them once I get home. Also, my abdomen/hernia has been bothering me a lot more lately, so having a break from lifting them all day is probably good for my healing. Being at work has given me back a slice of my identity before this whole thing went down, and that's been good for me. My co-workers are so great, and my managers are being very understanding in letting me ease back into a full schedule while I continue to heal. So, really, right now I think things are as good as they could be. I'm concerned about my hernia, though, and will be making a few more doctor's appointments this week.
Are there any twin moms out there reading who had a hernia repaired after their delivery?
The boys were baptized this weekend, and it was absolutely beautiful. Everything went amazingly well, and for once our babies weren't the ones crying. My sister's newborn did the honors of squacking her head off during the party. That made me feel much, much better, since the past 2 weeks it's been my boys causing a commotion at family gatherings. The boys were attentive and pleasant during the ceremony, and then they slept like angels at the restaurant afterwards where we had the party. I am so glad we ignored my MIL's constant pestering to have the party at our house, because being able to just relax and enjoy the day out was so much better than trying to host something at our house. It was expensive but worth every penny. I have no idea how we would have cleaned and cooked for a party of that size with twins.
MIL, however, seemed sorely disappointed that she couldn't camp out at our house with all her side of the family who came from out of town. She still managed to come up with an excuse to get all of her relatives over to our house afterwards, but it was only for a few minutes luckily. She wanted everyone to have a tour of our house, and H obliged but made a point of saying that we weren't up to entertaining with twins (I mean, the whole reason we paid to have the party elsewhere is because we didn't have time to prepare the house for guests!). She was pouty all day, but I couldn't feel bad about it because it is just so hard to get anything done around the house with two babies, especially when one is still colicky and neither of them wanted to sleep through the night this week. I don't understand why she can't see how exhausted we are as it is. The weirdest thing--in the middle of the party, once both boys woke up from their naps, she asked H is he would do her a favor. Sure, he said...what is it? She asked if she could take the babies back to our house now that they were awake and have some time alone with them. Uhhh, no....H replied. Everybody here drove a long way to see the babies and this is their party...why would you take them from it??? Weird.
The thing is, she sees the babies a lot. It's not like she's getting less time with them than my parents. I think she misses the times when we had to rely on her to help take care of them by herself while I was sick, though I know she's genuinely glad I'm better. I think she got too much of a taste of playing "mom" instead of "grandmom." And the thing is, I'm not giving up my rights as Mom at these events, now that I'm finally in the picture. We let her feed one of the babies during the party, but H and I remained the babies' primary caregivers. Now that we're both back at work, the weekends are our main time to interact with the babies too, and we're not willing to just pass them off. We're making up for a lot of lost bonding time.
Anyhow, aside from MIL being MIL, everything was really nice and I think everyone had a really good time. H's brothers actually made it (his one brother has never visited us the entire time we have been married) and the weather couldn't have been better.
As far as me being back at work, I'm doing pretty well with it. I miss the babies a lot while I'm gone, but the separation also gives me a chance to recharge and be better with them once I get home. Also, my abdomen/hernia has been bothering me a lot more lately, so having a break from lifting them all day is probably good for my healing. Being at work has given me back a slice of my identity before this whole thing went down, and that's been good for me. My co-workers are so great, and my managers are being very understanding in letting me ease back into a full schedule while I continue to heal. So, really, right now I think things are as good as they could be. I'm concerned about my hernia, though, and will be making a few more doctor's appointments this week.
Are there any twin moms out there reading who had a hernia repaired after their delivery?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Seeking Help
I really, really appreciate the outpouring of responses to my last post. Yes, I feel this bad quite frequently, but things overall are getting better. I feel even worse for admitting how bad I feel, because ultimately, the most important thing of all in my whole pregnancy/birthing experience DID go right... I have two very healthy babies, even if they do cry a lot and aren't sleeping through the night, unlike all the babies my friends have just delivered. (I think there is this conspiracy amongst some new mothers (especially the fertile ones who were so good at making you feel like shit during your fertility treatments) to make you feel like you and your baby are complete failures compared to them...will explain later.)
I thank God every day that it was me in the hospital and not the babies, and that it was my life on the line, not theirs. My heart goes out to those people who went through what I did and lost their baby on top of it...I am so, so sorry. Knowing how lucky I am to have my babies makes me feel even worse for struggling so much right now. It's time I sought some help, for real, because I don't want my memories of my boys' first year overshadowed by depression. I'm glad to hear about the preeclampsia site and will be heading that way...the problem always is finding the time. Somehow, I need to make the time to get the support I need.
Talking to other mothers in "real life" just isn't cutting it right now. Every time I talk to the neighbor of mine down the street who had twins three weeks before me, she makes me feel like slitting my wrists. You know, I thought I'd have the perfect friend in her--we're both raising twins the same age, we both had c-sections, and we both have to have our abdominal muscles repaired at some point this year. Well, I call her to commiserate on how rough some of the nights have been lately, and when she asks how I'm doing and I tell her how exhausted I am all the time, she says in a snooty voice..."Really? And you have help at home!" (Referring to our au pair) Yeah, well, the au pair isn't working the night shift and mainly right now her job is to be with the babies while I go to my upteen million doctor's appointments because in case you've forgotten I almost died, Be-otch!!! (This is all said in my head, of course). When I tell her how the au pair stays with the babies while I'm at the doctor's, she actually chastised me for not bringing them out with me!!!!! She told me I had to get used to bringing them out sooner or later. Hello? Why would I want to bring them to germy doctor offices? And no, I don't need to take them out if I don't want to. I think it's more important they have a good schedule at home with their naps, thank you. Compound this by how she expressed shock that I was planning to go back to work (her words--"do you think the au pair will really be able to give your babies the attention and care that you would give them?") and then her bragging about how her babies always nap perfectly in their crib twice a day and that I better make mine do it now or I'll be sorry, and you can see why I might feel a little down about myself. With friends like that, who needs enemies, right? Would you believe she actually ended the conversation by suggesting we get together for a play date soon? Ha! So, sometimes it seems that when I reach out to talk to people, I only end up feeling much, much worse. As far as the other twin mom, her husband tells me that things are not nearly as perfect at home with their twins as she likes to suggest. Go figure.
I applaud all you mothers out there in blgland, both fertile and infertile, who can be honest about how tough all this is. Thank you for being there.
I thank God every day that it was me in the hospital and not the babies, and that it was my life on the line, not theirs. My heart goes out to those people who went through what I did and lost their baby on top of it...I am so, so sorry. Knowing how lucky I am to have my babies makes me feel even worse for struggling so much right now. It's time I sought some help, for real, because I don't want my memories of my boys' first year overshadowed by depression. I'm glad to hear about the preeclampsia site and will be heading that way...the problem always is finding the time. Somehow, I need to make the time to get the support I need.
Talking to other mothers in "real life" just isn't cutting it right now. Every time I talk to the neighbor of mine down the street who had twins three weeks before me, she makes me feel like slitting my wrists. You know, I thought I'd have the perfect friend in her--we're both raising twins the same age, we both had c-sections, and we both have to have our abdominal muscles repaired at some point this year. Well, I call her to commiserate on how rough some of the nights have been lately, and when she asks how I'm doing and I tell her how exhausted I am all the time, she says in a snooty voice..."Really? And you have help at home!" (Referring to our au pair) Yeah, well, the au pair isn't working the night shift and mainly right now her job is to be with the babies while I go to my upteen million doctor's appointments because in case you've forgotten I almost died, Be-otch!!! (This is all said in my head, of course). When I tell her how the au pair stays with the babies while I'm at the doctor's, she actually chastised me for not bringing them out with me!!!!! She told me I had to get used to bringing them out sooner or later. Hello? Why would I want to bring them to germy doctor offices? And no, I don't need to take them out if I don't want to. I think it's more important they have a good schedule at home with their naps, thank you. Compound this by how she expressed shock that I was planning to go back to work (her words--"do you think the au pair will really be able to give your babies the attention and care that you would give them?") and then her bragging about how her babies always nap perfectly in their crib twice a day and that I better make mine do it now or I'll be sorry, and you can see why I might feel a little down about myself. With friends like that, who needs enemies, right? Would you believe she actually ended the conversation by suggesting we get together for a play date soon? Ha! So, sometimes it seems that when I reach out to talk to people, I only end up feeling much, much worse. As far as the other twin mom, her husband tells me that things are not nearly as perfect at home with their twins as she likes to suggest. Go figure.
I applaud all you mothers out there in blgland, both fertile and infertile, who can be honest about how tough all this is. Thank you for being there.
Monday, August 20, 2007
What's Wrong With Me?
I have to admit that I am really struggling to remain sane most days, especially when my sleep the night before has been bad or minimal. I think I'm still struggling with depression. I had another doctor appointment on Friday, this time with someone who hadn't seen me before, and I was again told how surprised this doctor was that I lived through what happened to me and am recovering. I keep getting told that the few other HELLP patients the doctors have treated have all died. No one seems to know what to tell me now because they never made it this far with their patients. It makes me extremely depressed, though I suppose I should be thrilled to be the one who lived. It's just hard to wrap your head around it. The fact that you should have died from how bad things were. The fact that you're recovering but no one really knows how long the full recovery will take and whether there will be any lasting impacts. The fact that every doctor who looks at your deformed abdomen with your intestines swirling around and says, no--I've never seen anything like that before, and I'm not sure how to fix it. It makes me want to cry alot.
I'm glad my body was tough enough to carry twins for as long as it did and tough enough to survive one of the worst cases of HELLP syndrome ever, but I am pretty pissed and depressed that EVERYTHING about my childbearing experience has been "unnatural." I couldn't get pregnant on my own. I couldn't deliver vaginally. I couldn't breatsfeed because of my condition. I couldn't come home with my babies from the hospital and spend their first month of life with them. Everything about the whole damn experience has SUCKED. I feel like a complete failure for not being able to breastfeed. I feel like a bad mother for not being able to say, "but despite everything bad that happened, it was so worth it." This is not the most gratifying thing I have ever done. The babies are very, very difficult to handle. Am I absolutely horrible for saying that??? Sadly, it feels true right now. The birth of my babies was not the best day of my life, and it should have been. Getting pregnant should have been a joyous experience, and thanks to IF, it wasn't. My maternity leave should be a wonderful bonding time with my boys, and really it's just been about my survival.
I love the babies, but I feel so overwhelmed and helpless that sometimes I think they'd be better off without me. Horrible thoughts, I know. But the thoughts are there, and I have to deal. All of this is compounded of course by the fact that my boys are not "easy" babies like every other baby my friends seem to have. They cry a lot. They aren't hitting a lot of the milestones as quickly as their younger cousin, which is of course constantly pointed out to me. "Oh, she is already reacting to this and doing that; your boys aren't????" It was bad enough having my IF pregnancy compared to my sister's natural pregnancy; it's worse having my boys compared to her girl. "Oh, she hardly ever cries; oh, she drinks 8 ounces every bottle; oh...oh...oh."
I. Hate. It.
Help please, I'm drowning here. Please tell me it gets easier?
I'm glad my body was tough enough to carry twins for as long as it did and tough enough to survive one of the worst cases of HELLP syndrome ever, but I am pretty pissed and depressed that EVERYTHING about my childbearing experience has been "unnatural." I couldn't get pregnant on my own. I couldn't deliver vaginally. I couldn't breatsfeed because of my condition. I couldn't come home with my babies from the hospital and spend their first month of life with them. Everything about the whole damn experience has SUCKED. I feel like a complete failure for not being able to breastfeed. I feel like a bad mother for not being able to say, "but despite everything bad that happened, it was so worth it." This is not the most gratifying thing I have ever done. The babies are very, very difficult to handle. Am I absolutely horrible for saying that??? Sadly, it feels true right now. The birth of my babies was not the best day of my life, and it should have been. Getting pregnant should have been a joyous experience, and thanks to IF, it wasn't. My maternity leave should be a wonderful bonding time with my boys, and really it's just been about my survival.
I love the babies, but I feel so overwhelmed and helpless that sometimes I think they'd be better off without me. Horrible thoughts, I know. But the thoughts are there, and I have to deal. All of this is compounded of course by the fact that my boys are not "easy" babies like every other baby my friends seem to have. They cry a lot. They aren't hitting a lot of the milestones as quickly as their younger cousin, which is of course constantly pointed out to me. "Oh, she is already reacting to this and doing that; your boys aren't????" It was bad enough having my IF pregnancy compared to my sister's natural pregnancy; it's worse having my boys compared to her girl. "Oh, she hardly ever cries; oh, she drinks 8 ounces every bottle; oh...oh...oh."
I. Hate. It.
Help please, I'm drowning here. Please tell me it gets easier?
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sleep Makes Me a Better Person
Thanks for all your comments about the napping situation. Two weeks ago, I was spending my entire day trying to get the boys to nap in their cribs when they would start to drift off in their chairs, and it was making both them and me extremely frustrated. If I could get them to nap in a crib, it would only last 30 minutes tops. If I turned the swing/bouncy seats off and left them alone to nap there in a quiet room, they would take great 2 hours naps, morning and afternoon. I was driving our au pair crazy because the boys would be fast asleep in their seats and I would start "nap training" and create unbelievable chaos.
Since H and I were also working on improving the boys' night time sleep (trying to cut down from 2 night feedings to just 1), I decided to quit being the Nap Nazi and let them get their rest during the day so that feasibly they would be better prepared for night sleep. Sleep begets sleep is what the Sleep Lady book I have says--that's the system I've been working with since day one. By easing off the crib nap requirements, I had more will power to work with the boys at night. The plan was to feed them at 7, have them asleep by 8, and then feed them once, and only once, between then and 6 am. This was quite the power struggle, but I am most happy to report that after one week of enduring extreme sleep deprivation, H and I won the battle. On Thursday, the boys went to bed at 8 and did not awake until 1 am for their feeding, and then did not awake again until 6:30. On Friday, they lasted until 2 am and stayed in bed until 7:00. On Saturday night, they slept until 4 am before needing to be fed!!! Now, these much improved nights have not been completely perfect--one twin almost always awakes around 11 or 12 for a diaper change, but the improved sleep has made me a much, much happier person. I figure I'll resume nap training once we have a few more good nights. Really, I don't think it's a big deal if they nap in their chairs, as long as they are not relying on the motion to sleep, which they aren't. I've been moving one of them into the nursery in his chair and turning on the monitor while I sit with the one who sleeps less downstairs in a quiet room. So far, all of us are happy.
On that note, it's time for me to go to bed...:(
More later!
Since H and I were also working on improving the boys' night time sleep (trying to cut down from 2 night feedings to just 1), I decided to quit being the Nap Nazi and let them get their rest during the day so that feasibly they would be better prepared for night sleep. Sleep begets sleep is what the Sleep Lady book I have says--that's the system I've been working with since day one. By easing off the crib nap requirements, I had more will power to work with the boys at night. The plan was to feed them at 7, have them asleep by 8, and then feed them once, and only once, between then and 6 am. This was quite the power struggle, but I am most happy to report that after one week of enduring extreme sleep deprivation, H and I won the battle. On Thursday, the boys went to bed at 8 and did not awake until 1 am for their feeding, and then did not awake again until 6:30. On Friday, they lasted until 2 am and stayed in bed until 7:00. On Saturday night, they slept until 4 am before needing to be fed!!! Now, these much improved nights have not been completely perfect--one twin almost always awakes around 11 or 12 for a diaper change, but the improved sleep has made me a much, much happier person. I figure I'll resume nap training once we have a few more good nights. Really, I don't think it's a big deal if they nap in their chairs, as long as they are not relying on the motion to sleep, which they aren't. I've been moving one of them into the nursery in his chair and turning on the monitor while I sit with the one who sleeps less downstairs in a quiet room. So far, all of us are happy.
On that note, it's time for me to go to bed...:(
More later!
Sunday, August 05, 2007
In the Middle of the Night
Just sitting here listening to the twin formerly known as Baby A making raptor noises in his sleep. H can somehow sleep through the little chirps and squacks he makes but I can't. The boys are about to turn three months, and I have one month left of maternity leave. I know that I'll just be starting to find the babies really interesting when it's time for me to leave them all day for work, and that sucks. I'm feeling some guilt about going back to work, but it's not like it's a choice--we can't afford for me to stay home. Our au pair is working out nicely and I think she'll do very well with them. I hate the idea of her spending more time with them than me though. She's overly helpful in some ways, and so when the day is over and she should be officially off duty, I get a little peeved when she still runs to them when they make any little noises. I shouldn't feel this way...I mean, shouldn't I be relieved there is someone to help my one crying baby while I'm tending to his crying brother? I just feel like I should be doing it all.
I'm still trying to feel like a real mom. I just don't know what to do sometimes, especially as I'm trying to get the babies to learn to take their morning and afternoon naps in their cribs instead of their bouncy seats. I feel incompetent. They both with be sound alseep in their bouncy seats, but the moment I try to lay them in a crib they scream bloody murder. At least we have a good bedtime routine and they go to sleep fairly easily in their cribs at the same time every night. The nights are still rough with lots of awakenings (hence this post), but they are starting to go for longer stretches without feedings at night.
Any advice on getting twins to nap in their cribs is greatly appreciated. I'd be happy to show the twins firsthand how it can be done as I am sleep deprived and find their crib ensemble soft and appealing, but I don't think that would work.
I'm still trying to feel like a real mom. I just don't know what to do sometimes, especially as I'm trying to get the babies to learn to take their morning and afternoon naps in their cribs instead of their bouncy seats. I feel incompetent. They both with be sound alseep in their bouncy seats, but the moment I try to lay them in a crib they scream bloody murder. At least we have a good bedtime routine and they go to sleep fairly easily in their cribs at the same time every night. The nights are still rough with lots of awakenings (hence this post), but they are starting to go for longer stretches without feedings at night.
Any advice on getting twins to nap in their cribs is greatly appreciated. I'd be happy to show the twins firsthand how it can be done as I am sleep deprived and find their crib ensemble soft and appealing, but I don't think that would work.
Monday, July 30, 2007
I'll Drink To That
My liver doctor is very pleased with my improvement and tells me that my liver is pretty much healed now, at last. The best proof of my liver's restored health is that he said I could have a glass of wine or beer with dinner. He just reminded me not to do any happy hours or anything. :)So, I did have a small glass of beer with H to celebrate that night (there was no wine in the house, my preferred drink.) It was more of a symbolic act than anything; I don't plan to do even moderate drinking any more. Maybe a one nice glass of wine on a special occassion every now and then, but that's it.
The doctor says that with my liver looking better, my main concern needs to be with my abdomen, which is still distended and full of intestines that aren't protected by the muscle wall. I'm told not to lift anything heavy. The abdomen has gone down significantly in size, however, and I can now wear girdle-like things that pull the whole stomach in so that I actually almost look like my former self if you stand back and squint a little. In fact, I bought a dress from Ann Ta.ylor yesterday for the boy's baptism that is only one size up from my normal dress size. And get this...the reason I needed the larger size was do to my still-enlarged bust, not my tummy. Hooray for that! While my chest is still a double D, it's not a nice double D like before I delivered. It's all deflated and droopy. I feel like my boobs just hang there. It kinda sucks. I need to do some bra shopping again.
Other changes with my body...my linea nigra scrubbed off in the shower today like a cheap fake tattoo. How weird is that? The belly skin is disgusting and crepe-like, but soft. The bad part is that I have the worst strecth marks you have ever seen along my sides, on the tops of my thighs, on my hips, and all the way down the undersides of my calves. These stretch marks are due to the way I blew up with fluid after I delivered; they are not because of the actual pregancy. They are truly horrendous, and my doctor says they will be with me for life. I feel like a zebra the way they stripe along my sides. It will be one-pieces for me from here on out. Somnetimes I'm very depressed about how disfigured I look with them, but when I consider the alternative to what happened to me, I just count myself lucky. I'm here, a little war-torn, but here.
The babies are doing great and are growing fast. I love them more each day. I get very tired some days and I often wonder what H and I have gotten ourselves into, but I know it's all worth it.
The doctor says that with my liver looking better, my main concern needs to be with my abdomen, which is still distended and full of intestines that aren't protected by the muscle wall. I'm told not to lift anything heavy. The abdomen has gone down significantly in size, however, and I can now wear girdle-like things that pull the whole stomach in so that I actually almost look like my former self if you stand back and squint a little. In fact, I bought a dress from Ann Ta.ylor yesterday for the boy's baptism that is only one size up from my normal dress size. And get this...the reason I needed the larger size was do to my still-enlarged bust, not my tummy. Hooray for that! While my chest is still a double D, it's not a nice double D like before I delivered. It's all deflated and droopy. I feel like my boobs just hang there. It kinda sucks. I need to do some bra shopping again.
Other changes with my body...my linea nigra scrubbed off in the shower today like a cheap fake tattoo. How weird is that? The belly skin is disgusting and crepe-like, but soft. The bad part is that I have the worst strecth marks you have ever seen along my sides, on the tops of my thighs, on my hips, and all the way down the undersides of my calves. These stretch marks are due to the way I blew up with fluid after I delivered; they are not because of the actual pregancy. They are truly horrendous, and my doctor says they will be with me for life. I feel like a zebra the way they stripe along my sides. It will be one-pieces for me from here on out. Somnetimes I'm very depressed about how disfigured I look with them, but when I consider the alternative to what happened to me, I just count myself lucky. I'm here, a little war-torn, but here.
The babies are doing great and are growing fast. I love them more each day. I get very tired some days and I often wonder what H and I have gotten ourselves into, but I know it's all worth it.
Friday, July 27, 2007
The New Normal
I'm still here...I'm just finding it hard to blog with the twins and Stefanie, our new au pair, to look after. Stefanie arrived last Thursday night from Germany and is a very nice girl. She's 19, and has experience watching baby boys, but ones that were a little older than my twins. Because the boys are still so small, she's rather timid around them, and I certainly wouldn't leave her alone with them yet. I have a month to "train" her before I go back to work. I figure if I can take care of them by myself with a bum liver, she'll be able to also.
On the liver front, things are continuing to get better. Most of my blood test results from last Friday are in the normal range now. Only my bilirubin remains elevated...so my eyes are still yellow.
Alas...a baby squeals; more later, I hope!
On the liver front, things are continuing to get better. Most of my blood test results from last Friday are in the normal range now. Only my bilirubin remains elevated...so my eyes are still yellow.
Alas...a baby squeals; more later, I hope!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Home Alone!...with Babies!
Last week I finally had some good news...my blood tests showed improvement in my liver function. While my liver enzymes are still not in the normal range, they are much better, so talk of a biopsy appears to be off the table. Thank goodness! Thank you all for the prayers and good wishes. I was really worried that my condition had stagnated.
I moved back home with the babies and H on July 4, our own little independence day. H was off with me for the long weekend, and then MIL stayed with me Monday and Tuesday. After I saw that I could handle the babies much better on my own than with MIL, she went home and I have been alone with them for the past two days. It has been tiring for sure, but so wonderful. I am finally their Mom in the way I imagined I would be. I've definitely started to bond more with them the past few weeks, and I see them developing a preference for me as well. After all the people who have handled them the past two months, it is a relief to see that they do seem to recognize the woman who carried them for 37 weeks and then disappeared for almost a month.
Now I have one week to be alone with them and H before our au pair arrives. I am excited about her arrival and I know it's the right child care choice for us, but I'm sad that our time as just a family of 4 has been so brief.
I moved back home with the babies and H on July 4, our own little independence day. H was off with me for the long weekend, and then MIL stayed with me Monday and Tuesday. After I saw that I could handle the babies much better on my own than with MIL, she went home and I have been alone with them for the past two days. It has been tiring for sure, but so wonderful. I am finally their Mom in the way I imagined I would be. I've definitely started to bond more with them the past few weeks, and I see them developing a preference for me as well. After all the people who have handled them the past two months, it is a relief to see that they do seem to recognize the woman who carried them for 37 weeks and then disappeared for almost a month.
Now I have one week to be alone with them and H before our au pair arrives. I am excited about her arrival and I know it's the right child care choice for us, but I'm sad that our time as just a family of 4 has been so brief.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Diapers, Doctors, and Die Hard
These are the three things that have kept me from blogging lately. I've gotten a significant amount of my strength back, so I have been able to care for the babies almost full-time during the day. In fact, I was completely on my own with them from 9 am to 5 pm on Tuesday because my mom had some doctor's appointments of her own. I was scared at first, but everything went really well and I managed to get the boys fed, diapered, and bathed without having to leave either one of them cry for too long. When they both decide to have a meltdown at the same time things get very tricky, but I've been managing to multi-task between the two of them very well. I even did their laundry and made a few phone calls.
While I feel better and stronger, my body is still taking its good old time healing. I've had many doctor's appointments since my last post, and things still look crappy for me. Let's see--where to start? Well, my OB thought I'd need a D&C to remove some remaining products of conception. We did an ultrasound, and they saw a little spot of something in the cervical canal, but the OB decided it wasn't worth doing the D&C. (a D&C would be risky for me now anyway because of my liver and clotting issues) I seemed to get a light period last week, but it was a brighter red than normal. Could have been the stuff they saw on the ultrasound. Then the bleeding stopped. Now it has started again. The OB has no idea what to make of any of it.
Next, my liver enzymes are still testing the same (crappy), which isn't good. The liver specialist wants to see some improvement by now. If he doesn't see improvement soon, he feels I should have a liver biopsy done. This is also risky. I had more bloodwork done yesterday and am praying that we'll have some better results. I'm not nearly as yellow as I was when I got home, so something with the liver must be working.
I saw my general practitioner yesterday and he said my urine is full of bile still and "looks absolutely awful," and he again emphasized how surprised he is that I'm alive. Ugh. Getting sick of hearing that. He also has nothing to tell me treatment wise. We're supposed to just sit and wait for my body to heal itself.
I have an appointment with a surgeon today to assess my abdomen, which is still the size of a small kick-ball. When I lean back, you can see all of my intestines moving. It is truly gross. The docs thought I might have a major hernia, but we did a CAT scan last week and it didn't show one. The stomach muscle may just be stretched super thin from the twin pregnancy and subsequent swelling. The surgeon today will assess whether I'll need the stomach muscle repaired in order to bring my intestines back into where they belong. If I do need surgery, I won't be able to have it done until my liver is healed. In the meantime, I have to be very careful not to lift anything heavy or let anything hit or compress my stomach.
Finally, to the last item occuppying my time--Die Hard. H got all three of the original movies on DVD for Christmas, and we've been watching them over the past two weeks after the boys have settled down for the evening. Last night, my parents offered to babysit so we could go see Live Free or Die Hard. I didn't want to go at first--I was depressed about all the doctor's visits and I felt guilty leaving the boys, but I ended up really enjoying the movie. I highly recommend it. It made me laugh my ass off, and that is a hard thing to make me do these days. :)
While I feel better and stronger, my body is still taking its good old time healing. I've had many doctor's appointments since my last post, and things still look crappy for me. Let's see--where to start? Well, my OB thought I'd need a D&C to remove some remaining products of conception. We did an ultrasound, and they saw a little spot of something in the cervical canal, but the OB decided it wasn't worth doing the D&C. (a D&C would be risky for me now anyway because of my liver and clotting issues) I seemed to get a light period last week, but it was a brighter red than normal. Could have been the stuff they saw on the ultrasound. Then the bleeding stopped. Now it has started again. The OB has no idea what to make of any of it.
Next, my liver enzymes are still testing the same (crappy), which isn't good. The liver specialist wants to see some improvement by now. If he doesn't see improvement soon, he feels I should have a liver biopsy done. This is also risky. I had more bloodwork done yesterday and am praying that we'll have some better results. I'm not nearly as yellow as I was when I got home, so something with the liver must be working.
I saw my general practitioner yesterday and he said my urine is full of bile still and "looks absolutely awful," and he again emphasized how surprised he is that I'm alive. Ugh. Getting sick of hearing that. He also has nothing to tell me treatment wise. We're supposed to just sit and wait for my body to heal itself.
I have an appointment with a surgeon today to assess my abdomen, which is still the size of a small kick-ball. When I lean back, you can see all of my intestines moving. It is truly gross. The docs thought I might have a major hernia, but we did a CAT scan last week and it didn't show one. The stomach muscle may just be stretched super thin from the twin pregnancy and subsequent swelling. The surgeon today will assess whether I'll need the stomach muscle repaired in order to bring my intestines back into where they belong. If I do need surgery, I won't be able to have it done until my liver is healed. In the meantime, I have to be very careful not to lift anything heavy or let anything hit or compress my stomach.
Finally, to the last item occuppying my time--Die Hard. H got all three of the original movies on DVD for Christmas, and we've been watching them over the past two weeks after the boys have settled down for the evening. Last night, my parents offered to babysit so we could go see Live Free or Die Hard. I didn't want to go at first--I was depressed about all the doctor's visits and I felt guilty leaving the boys, but I ended up really enjoying the movie. I highly recommend it. It made me laugh my ass off, and that is a hard thing to make me do these days. :)
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Progression
I've been living with H and the babies at my parent's house now for almost a month. It hasn't been easy for us or my parents, as you can imagine, but all things considered we are making the most of a difficult situation. My Dad and I are more laid back about everything, so I think it's affected us less than my Mom and H, each who like things "just so" and tend to get a little on edge when they don't have complete control over their living situation. I know you're thinking, "But, Emmie, you're a self-admitted total control freak!" Well, I'm really not when I know that there's nothing I can do about something, and logic dictates that I need to accept my situation rather than fight it. I need to be taken care of right now, and much as it sucks and much as it means being gracious about things that would normally drive me nuts, I know when it's time for me to let little annoyances slide off my back. Even if it means having to eat carrot cake or something. I wish H could be as understanding. He lets every little thing my parents do get to him, then he vents to me, and quite frankly, I'm sick of hearing it. Yes, we'd rather be in our own home doing things our way, but that just isn't an option right now.
While I still want to fill you all in on the rest of my hospital adventures and a better breakdown of my medical condition, today I'd like to write a little more about the emotional aspects of all this.
When I was in the hospital, I found it hard to listen to people tell me all about the babies. I just couldn't focus for one thing, and I was in so much pain. I wanted to know the babies were okay, and that's about it. It hurt to hear from other people what my babies were like...I should have been the one telling people these things. H had a priest visit me the Sunday I arrived at the next hospital, and I was able to talk about all of my feelings to him. It helped a lot. I felt my illness was a punishment for me wanting to do everything myself for the babies without my parents' and in-laws' help. Here I had gone out of my way to ensure I wouldn't need their help, and suddenly I'm so sick that not only do I need them to take care of the babies, I need them to take care of me, too.
When I was released from the hospital, I was still in very bad shape. There was really nothing more the doctors could do for me in the hospital though, so it was decided that my recovery would be better at my parent's house. In order to leave I had to prove that I could climb a flight of stairs, get in and out of bed, and step in and out of a shower. I demonstrated each of these things just once before being discharged. When I left, I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to function at home yet. My mind continued to be preoccuppied by how I would accomplish the simplest of tasks. The whole way home I repeated my plan to H over and over: "You pull the car up as close as you can to the door. Tell my Mom to keep the babies upstairs. Help me inside to the bathroom. I'll go to the bathroom. Then get my pillows and help me sit in a chair. Once I'm sitting then bring down the babies." I kept repeating this over and over, terrified that I wouldn't be able to make it to the door, that I wouldn't be able to control my bowels during the hour-long car ride, that I wouldn't be able to climb the stairs to go to bed that night. These simple tasks literally took all of my energy. Being able to stand in front of the sink and brush my teeth and wash my face on my own was a huge accomplishment that night.
So of course, being in that shape, the most I could do with the babies at first was hold them while I sat. When I first held both of them in my arms after getting to my parent's house, it was wonderful. The three of us sat there for 2 hours. The next few days though, I couldn't help but feel extremely detatched from them as I watched H and my parents care for them "their way." I felt like a complete stranger to them. I wasn't their mother. And there was nothing I could do to insert myself into the situation. I just had no strength. H would offer me a baby to feed, and I'd have to decline. I worried that I didn't have any feelings for them. I didn't have any feelings at all. I was an empty shell...a deformed version of myself. I couldn't kiss them--I had a cold sore on the paralyzed side of my face and there was concern that I could pass on a viral infection.
As my mind slowly started to come back I couldn't help but feel bitter looking at pictures that were taken the day the babies were brought home from the hospital..Mother's Day...a day I was so sick I don't even remember it. In the pictures I saw my in-laws and H, laughing, smiling, holding my babies in my house without me while I was fighting for my life in the ICU. Oh, the bitterness. I even felt angry at H.
to be continued...
While I still want to fill you all in on the rest of my hospital adventures and a better breakdown of my medical condition, today I'd like to write a little more about the emotional aspects of all this.
When I was in the hospital, I found it hard to listen to people tell me all about the babies. I just couldn't focus for one thing, and I was in so much pain. I wanted to know the babies were okay, and that's about it. It hurt to hear from other people what my babies were like...I should have been the one telling people these things. H had a priest visit me the Sunday I arrived at the next hospital, and I was able to talk about all of my feelings to him. It helped a lot. I felt my illness was a punishment for me wanting to do everything myself for the babies without my parents' and in-laws' help. Here I had gone out of my way to ensure I wouldn't need their help, and suddenly I'm so sick that not only do I need them to take care of the babies, I need them to take care of me, too.
When I was released from the hospital, I was still in very bad shape. There was really nothing more the doctors could do for me in the hospital though, so it was decided that my recovery would be better at my parent's house. In order to leave I had to prove that I could climb a flight of stairs, get in and out of bed, and step in and out of a shower. I demonstrated each of these things just once before being discharged. When I left, I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to function at home yet. My mind continued to be preoccuppied by how I would accomplish the simplest of tasks. The whole way home I repeated my plan to H over and over: "You pull the car up as close as you can to the door. Tell my Mom to keep the babies upstairs. Help me inside to the bathroom. I'll go to the bathroom. Then get my pillows and help me sit in a chair. Once I'm sitting then bring down the babies." I kept repeating this over and over, terrified that I wouldn't be able to make it to the door, that I wouldn't be able to control my bowels during the hour-long car ride, that I wouldn't be able to climb the stairs to go to bed that night. These simple tasks literally took all of my energy. Being able to stand in front of the sink and brush my teeth and wash my face on my own was a huge accomplishment that night.
So of course, being in that shape, the most I could do with the babies at first was hold them while I sat. When I first held both of them in my arms after getting to my parent's house, it was wonderful. The three of us sat there for 2 hours. The next few days though, I couldn't help but feel extremely detatched from them as I watched H and my parents care for them "their way." I felt like a complete stranger to them. I wasn't their mother. And there was nothing I could do to insert myself into the situation. I just had no strength. H would offer me a baby to feed, and I'd have to decline. I worried that I didn't have any feelings for them. I didn't have any feelings at all. I was an empty shell...a deformed version of myself. I couldn't kiss them--I had a cold sore on the paralyzed side of my face and there was concern that I could pass on a viral infection.
As my mind slowly started to come back I couldn't help but feel bitter looking at pictures that were taken the day the babies were brought home from the hospital..Mother's Day...a day I was so sick I don't even remember it. In the pictures I saw my in-laws and H, laughing, smiling, holding my babies in my house without me while I was fighting for my life in the ICU. Oh, the bitterness. I even felt angry at H.
to be continued...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
We Now Take a Commercial Break...
For some much needed positive news!
My sister had her baby last Wednesday, almost exactly one month after the boys were born, and she is beautiful!!!! Everything went well and my sister is doing fine. I was well enough to visit her and the baby in the hospital last week, and last night she brought the baby to my parent's house so all three babies were together. What a zoo! We got some fun pictures and enjoyed the symphony of baby cries (for the most part :)
While I'm on positive thoughts, I want to note some of the wonderful things that have come out of my almost dying. (Yesterday I had 3 separate doctors tell me how they can't believe I survived, so it's kinda funny that I can now say I almost died and know that I'm not just being my usual melodramatic self.)
1. A big source of pain in my life is that I've never heard my mom tell me that she loves me. She had never said the words to me. I've always felt that she much preferred my sister to me. Well, my mom was an amazing caregiver to me in the hospital. She sat with me for hours while I slept, spoon-fed me food when I couldn't do more than open my mouth, and countless other things. She soothed me when I had panic attacks. Most importantly, she told me how much she loved me for the first time. Even though her actions already showed all that love and I knew that she loved me, it was really something to hear it.
2. A cousin of mine (my dad's sister's son) has not spoken to my parents or me and my sister in 7 years; it's a long story. Well, when his mom, my aunt, told him what happened, he called her every day for updates on me. Finally he wrote my dad, and apologized for all the years of silence, and asked that he and my dad could talk in order to put the past behind and be family again. My dad, who never had any issues with him in the first place and had hoped for years that he would come around, immediately embraced this chance to talk to him. This reunion has been wanted for so very, very long by us.
3. There are other relatives that have been somewhat estranged, and they have all reached out to put differences behind and move forward.
My sister had her baby last Wednesday, almost exactly one month after the boys were born, and she is beautiful!!!! Everything went well and my sister is doing fine. I was well enough to visit her and the baby in the hospital last week, and last night she brought the baby to my parent's house so all three babies were together. What a zoo! We got some fun pictures and enjoyed the symphony of baby cries (for the most part :)
While I'm on positive thoughts, I want to note some of the wonderful things that have come out of my almost dying. (Yesterday I had 3 separate doctors tell me how they can't believe I survived, so it's kinda funny that I can now say I almost died and know that I'm not just being my usual melodramatic self.)
1. A big source of pain in my life is that I've never heard my mom tell me that she loves me. She had never said the words to me. I've always felt that she much preferred my sister to me. Well, my mom was an amazing caregiver to me in the hospital. She sat with me for hours while I slept, spoon-fed me food when I couldn't do more than open my mouth, and countless other things. She soothed me when I had panic attacks. Most importantly, she told me how much she loved me for the first time. Even though her actions already showed all that love and I knew that she loved me, it was really something to hear it.
2. A cousin of mine (my dad's sister's son) has not spoken to my parents or me and my sister in 7 years; it's a long story. Well, when his mom, my aunt, told him what happened, he called her every day for updates on me. Finally he wrote my dad, and apologized for all the years of silence, and asked that he and my dad could talk in order to put the past behind and be family again. My dad, who never had any issues with him in the first place and had hoped for years that he would come around, immediately embraced this chance to talk to him. This reunion has been wanted for so very, very long by us.
3. There are other relatives that have been somewhat estranged, and they have all reached out to put differences behind and move forward.
Friday, June 08, 2007
The next week in the hospital
Before I continue, thank you all for your comments. I need to share this in order to start moving on. This experience has jarred me in ways I never could have imagined. Thank you, Jen, for the information about the support group. I will be visiting it soon. During my stay in the hospital, social workers would visit me in between all the other parades of doctors and visitors, and they would want to talk to me about postpartum depression and such. Well, at that time, sick as I was, I couldn't talk to them had I wanted to. I'm sure I do have some depression issues to deal with (who wouldn't??), but when I was in the hospital, I could only focus on one thing--reserving every bit of energy for healing my body.
I could only stare in disbelief at those social workers who would come in wanting to chat about my feelings while I was being given blood products because my body was shredding all my red blood cells, being fed nutrients through an IV, and had yet a third bag attached to my body to drain fluid from the C-section incision site. (Ironically in all this, the C-section incision healed beautifully within a week of the procedure, you can't see it, and I never even felt it.) I was hooked up to oxygen and covered in electrodes to monitor my vital signs. My thoughts were on getting through the next painful test and whether I would have the assistance I needed when my bowels would begin to demand immeditiate release. It took two nurses to get me in and out of bed to use the bathroom. I had to have all of my bags of fluid hooked onto the walker they helped me use, and all of the wires attached to my body stayed with me after being unplugged. It was a long process to get me up and back to bed. Getting my massive belly positioned back in bed was very painful, as the nurses surrounded me with pillows and foam props to try to minimize my pain and help me breathe. I couldn't lay on my back because the weight of my stomach crushed me. I had to be carefully positioned on one side or the other, and once I was propped that way, I couldn't move without assistance.
Over the course of the next week, the doctors tried every test to determine whether I had HELLP Syndrome , Fatty Liver, or something viral that was causing all of this. The problem was (and still is), that I showed many signs of both HELLP and Fatty Liver and nothing was clear cut. The cure for HELLP is delivery, and here I was, delivered but getting worse, not better. Or at least, not getting better at the rate that would be expected for HELLP. All the fluid that had been removed from my abdomen had built back up. My jaundice was not improving. My white and red blood cell counts were still bad. My arms and legs were so swollen they looked like tree trunks, and my fingers and toes were like sausages sticking out of my huge hands and feet.
After a few doctors who saw me thought I was just a "big" girl to begin with, not recognizing the severity of my swelling, my Mom stuck a picture of me and H pre-pregnancy on my bulletin board with the baby pictures she had brought. One of the nurses saw it and asked who the girl was with my husband. I thought she was joking. When I answered me, she looked down at me with the saddest eyes and said--"Oh, honey...you must be in there somewhere. Don't look in the mirror, okay?" I didn't. I was spared seeing what I was like at my worst. It must have been pretty awful because when I finally did see myself 2 weeks later, I was still horrified. And that was after everyone had told me how much better I looked.
There wasn't much more the hospital I was in could do for me, so it was recommended that I be transferred to a tertiary care hospital where more specialists would be available to examine me. When a bed finally became available there, ten days after I had delivered, I was transferred by an ambulance. This part truly felt like a movie. With the sides of my abdomen spilling out on either side of me, I was carefully moved from my hospital bed to a very narrow stretcher and loaded into an ambulance. It took 2 men and 2 women to move me. H rode with me but up front, because a nurse had to monitor my vitals the whole way. I was continually given morphine during the hour trip for the pain. I spent most of the time with my eyes closed, trying to block everything out, thinking only that I had to get better for the babies and H. Whenever I was in pain or going through a difficult test I did this--just sort of retreated into myself.
I could only stare in disbelief at those social workers who would come in wanting to chat about my feelings while I was being given blood products because my body was shredding all my red blood cells, being fed nutrients through an IV, and had yet a third bag attached to my body to drain fluid from the C-section incision site. (Ironically in all this, the C-section incision healed beautifully within a week of the procedure, you can't see it, and I never even felt it.) I was hooked up to oxygen and covered in electrodes to monitor my vital signs. My thoughts were on getting through the next painful test and whether I would have the assistance I needed when my bowels would begin to demand immeditiate release. It took two nurses to get me in and out of bed to use the bathroom. I had to have all of my bags of fluid hooked onto the walker they helped me use, and all of the wires attached to my body stayed with me after being unplugged. It was a long process to get me up and back to bed. Getting my massive belly positioned back in bed was very painful, as the nurses surrounded me with pillows and foam props to try to minimize my pain and help me breathe. I couldn't lay on my back because the weight of my stomach crushed me. I had to be carefully positioned on one side or the other, and once I was propped that way, I couldn't move without assistance.
Over the course of the next week, the doctors tried every test to determine whether I had HELLP Syndrome , Fatty Liver, or something viral that was causing all of this. The problem was (and still is), that I showed many signs of both HELLP and Fatty Liver and nothing was clear cut. The cure for HELLP is delivery, and here I was, delivered but getting worse, not better. Or at least, not getting better at the rate that would be expected for HELLP. All the fluid that had been removed from my abdomen had built back up. My jaundice was not improving. My white and red blood cell counts were still bad. My arms and legs were so swollen they looked like tree trunks, and my fingers and toes were like sausages sticking out of my huge hands and feet.
After a few doctors who saw me thought I was just a "big" girl to begin with, not recognizing the severity of my swelling, my Mom stuck a picture of me and H pre-pregnancy on my bulletin board with the baby pictures she had brought. One of the nurses saw it and asked who the girl was with my husband. I thought she was joking. When I answered me, she looked down at me with the saddest eyes and said--"Oh, honey...you must be in there somewhere. Don't look in the mirror, okay?" I didn't. I was spared seeing what I was like at my worst. It must have been pretty awful because when I finally did see myself 2 weeks later, I was still horrified. And that was after everyone had told me how much better I looked.
There wasn't much more the hospital I was in could do for me, so it was recommended that I be transferred to a tertiary care hospital where more specialists would be available to examine me. When a bed finally became available there, ten days after I had delivered, I was transferred by an ambulance. This part truly felt like a movie. With the sides of my abdomen spilling out on either side of me, I was carefully moved from my hospital bed to a very narrow stretcher and loaded into an ambulance. It took 2 men and 2 women to move me. H rode with me but up front, because a nurse had to monitor my vitals the whole way. I was continually given morphine during the hour trip for the pain. I spent most of the time with my eyes closed, trying to block everything out, thinking only that I had to get better for the babies and H. Whenever I was in pain or going through a difficult test I did this--just sort of retreated into myself.
The days following the birth
I remember very little about seeing my boys the next few days after their birth as I got sicker and sicker from my liver not functioning. They had to pull a few strings to allow the boys into intensive care. When they brought them to me, I asked for Baby A first, since I hadn't seen him. I took a few moments with him, then they handed me Baby B. H asked me who would be who, namewise. I felt Baby A was Zach and Baby B was Alex. H said he had come to the same conclusion on his own. Then I remember the lactation consultant coming in and helping me try to breastfeed. That's when I thought I was out of the woods and just getting better. Luckily, as I got sicker and they began putting me on medications that would affect my breastmilk, I denied the lactation consultant's attempts to have me still pump and get my milk to come in (they were planning to just throw it out until I was "better"). "Better" was not coming as soon as it would have in a "normal" case of HELLP syndrome or Fatty Liver (I showed symptoms of both issues), and had I needed to be pumped on a regular basis in addition to the constant battery of tests they started running on me plus the excruciating pain I was in from my fluid filled abdomen and body--well, I just can't imagine it.
I continued to turn a darker and darker shade of yellow as the jaundice intensified. The whites of my eyes turned yellow. Friday morning, the left side of my face became paralyzed. I went for an immediate MRI to rule out a stroke. No stroke, it was Bell's Palsy. I had no idea--I did not look in a mirror until a week later. Had no idea about how my face now drooped, that I was so yellow, that even my face was swelled up like a balloon. As I filled with fluid, I was trapped in my body. The pressure from my abdomen swelling up to my chest was horrible. I could barely breathe.
H says I saw the babies every day until they went home on Sunday, Mother's Day. I only remember seeing them on day two. I have no recollection of Mother's Day at all. None. My mom says that was one of my very worst days of all, when the fluid that built up in my abdomen was so much that I began throwing it up and they had to puncture my side to allow some of it to drain. Three and a half liters were taken out. Although the liquid was removed, new liquid continued to fill in as the liver still was not processing it. I had a bag similar to my urine bag coming out of my side to allow the liquid to continue to drain. But it didn't drain faster than it continued to fill.
I was given morphine for the pain. I didn't want it. The sickenly sweet smell filled my nose and stayed with me. I had the most twisted, horrifying nightmares, and I began hearing things and making no sense when I was on it. Even though I didn't want to take it, I had to use it when they moved me from stretcher to stretcher for the constant MRIs, CAT scans and other X-rays. Every bump and jostle my body felt was horrible. I was a water balloon about to pop. When my bowels began working again, I had to have nurses position bed pans under me because I couldn't get out of bed. In addition to my abdomen being filled with fluid, it was filled with trapped gas that was making the pressure worse and needed to come out. This was next to impossible to get out without me being able to stand up and move some. The nurses and physical therapy worked with me to get me up a few times. I was given more morphine after I'd get back into bed. The pain and exertion was just too much. My mind wouldn't quiet. The inside of my mouth felt like pins and needles. I couldn't drink enough, and needed to be brought more liquids all the time. The nurses would bring tall cups with straws that I couldn't suck from due to the paralysis. I spent my time struggling to drink, go to the bathroom, and sleep in between constant doctor visits, blood draws, and tests. When people visited me I freaked out if they got too close or were too loud. My head couldn't take it. I had panic attacks.
My parents would tell me about the babies and I had a hard time listening. H brought me cards and I wouldn't be able to look at them. My focus was on my next breathe.
(Quick update about the present...I still am on a long road to recovery. I cannot care for the babies right now, other than to do occassional feedings and diaper changes. My condition is extremely rare, so for those of you with questions about HELLP, know that I am by far a worst, worst case scenario. I have been told not to have any more pregnancies because my risk of this happening again is high. But for someone who has a "normal" case of HELLP, I think a second pregnancy means you just get monitored more closely.)
I continued to turn a darker and darker shade of yellow as the jaundice intensified. The whites of my eyes turned yellow. Friday morning, the left side of my face became paralyzed. I went for an immediate MRI to rule out a stroke. No stroke, it was Bell's Palsy. I had no idea--I did not look in a mirror until a week later. Had no idea about how my face now drooped, that I was so yellow, that even my face was swelled up like a balloon. As I filled with fluid, I was trapped in my body. The pressure from my abdomen swelling up to my chest was horrible. I could barely breathe.
H says I saw the babies every day until they went home on Sunday, Mother's Day. I only remember seeing them on day two. I have no recollection of Mother's Day at all. None. My mom says that was one of my very worst days of all, when the fluid that built up in my abdomen was so much that I began throwing it up and they had to puncture my side to allow some of it to drain. Three and a half liters were taken out. Although the liquid was removed, new liquid continued to fill in as the liver still was not processing it. I had a bag similar to my urine bag coming out of my side to allow the liquid to continue to drain. But it didn't drain faster than it continued to fill.
I was given morphine for the pain. I didn't want it. The sickenly sweet smell filled my nose and stayed with me. I had the most twisted, horrifying nightmares, and I began hearing things and making no sense when I was on it. Even though I didn't want to take it, I had to use it when they moved me from stretcher to stretcher for the constant MRIs, CAT scans and other X-rays. Every bump and jostle my body felt was horrible. I was a water balloon about to pop. When my bowels began working again, I had to have nurses position bed pans under me because I couldn't get out of bed. In addition to my abdomen being filled with fluid, it was filled with trapped gas that was making the pressure worse and needed to come out. This was next to impossible to get out without me being able to stand up and move some. The nurses and physical therapy worked with me to get me up a few times. I was given more morphine after I'd get back into bed. The pain and exertion was just too much. My mind wouldn't quiet. The inside of my mouth felt like pins and needles. I couldn't drink enough, and needed to be brought more liquids all the time. The nurses would bring tall cups with straws that I couldn't suck from due to the paralysis. I spent my time struggling to drink, go to the bathroom, and sleep in between constant doctor visits, blood draws, and tests. When people visited me I freaked out if they got too close or were too loud. My head couldn't take it. I had panic attacks.
My parents would tell me about the babies and I had a hard time listening. H brought me cards and I wouldn't be able to look at them. My focus was on my next breathe.
(Quick update about the present...I still am on a long road to recovery. I cannot care for the babies right now, other than to do occassional feedings and diaper changes. My condition is extremely rare, so for those of you with questions about HELLP, know that I am by far a worst, worst case scenario. I have been told not to have any more pregnancies because my risk of this happening again is high. But for someone who has a "normal" case of HELLP, I think a second pregnancy means you just get monitored more closely.)
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Part One Continues...What I Didn't Know
My last post is my recollection of the day the twins were born and of what was happening to me. Here's what else happened that day. (Even today, I still had to ask H to tell me when things happened to me.)
When they started the C-section I was in complete renal failure. My liver stopped functioning. My bowels shut down. The day of the birth was the worst day for me as far as complications.
With my liver not functioning, I began to become very jaundiced, and every part of my body and abdomen began to swell with fluid that could not be processed. The swelling over the next few days became extreme. Fluid seeped from my arm at one point. I started the pregnancy 120 pounds. The day of delivery, I had been 172 pounds. Over the course of the next few days after delivery, I swelled to 198 pounds. I took on thirty pounds of fluid, likely more considering the immediate weight I lost with the removal of the twins.
When they started the C-section I was in complete renal failure. My liver stopped functioning. My bowels shut down. The day of the birth was the worst day for me as far as complications.
With my liver not functioning, I began to become very jaundiced, and every part of my body and abdomen began to swell with fluid that could not be processed. The swelling over the next few days became extreme. Fluid seeped from my arm at one point. I started the pregnancy 120 pounds. The day of delivery, I had been 172 pounds. Over the course of the next few days after delivery, I swelled to 198 pounds. I took on thirty pounds of fluid, likely more considering the immediate weight I lost with the removal of the twins.
Monday, June 04, 2007
The Dream Turned Nightmare, part one
I want to try to get out what I remember as best as I can in a stream of consciousness. Apologizing now for all typos and poor writing.
May 8, Tuesday morning at 3:00 a.m., feeling pretty awful. Get up to go the bathroom. Heavy watery discharge then the release of a lot of mucuos. The mucuos plug? Water breaking? Not sure. Wake H. Call the doctor. Doc says to come to the hospital to be sure. Needed to be there that morning early anyway for 12:00 planned C-section. Debated calling and waking parents. Decided to call them and let them know we were headed out.
By 4:30 a.m. hooked up to monitors in labor and delivery triage room. Nurse determines water had not broken, but contractions starting and very painful. Doc on her way. Told the C-section would be moved up to 9:00 a.m. H calls my parents with update--there already on the way. Doc arrives. Now it's sometime around 6:00 a.m. Suddenly told the C-section is going to happen now. I'm in the OR. Get the spinal. Painless. I hold H's hand.
Baby A (Zachary) is born at 6:35, 5 pounds 11 ounces and 19 1/4 inches. He is in some distress and is whisked away to the NICU. I didn't see him.
Baby B (Alexander) is born at 6:37, 5-10 oz and 19 1/4 inches. He is cleaned up and brought to rest on my shoulder. He sucks my face as I greet him--Hi, Baby! Then he is put in the incubator by my side for a bit. H has gone to check on Baby A, who is fine but being monitored. H goes back and forth between us. We're asked if we know the names for each baby. Say we have names picked but I need to see Baby A first to figure out who should be who.
I ask for an ice chip but am denied. They don't want anything in my system...something appears to be wrong. Doc tells me I may need a hysterectomy (which did not happen). I think...What?? Inside panic but too weak to ask why or what's going on. Whatever you have to do I say.
Everything goes black.
I hear a woman calling my name sharply. I open my eyes and see a doctor hovering over me that I don't know. She says in the same urgent voice--Do you know where you are?? I give the name of the hospital. Do you know what happened to you? I just delivered twins through a C-section I say. She keeps repeating, "No, do you know what happened to you? Do you know where you are?" Meanwhile both of my hands are being slapped by nurses on either side of me and I feel attempts at needles being poked into the veins. We can't get any veins they're yelling. I think that's odd--my veins are usually so good. The jab me up and down the hands and arms until finally they get IVs in both. Everytime I start to close my eyes my name is called sharply and I'm asked the same questions. I see bags of blood being hooked up. The doctor yells that they're going to need more blood products; there's no time to wait. I'm told I'm in intensive care in critical condition.
I have no idea what has happened. I now know my blood wouldn't clot and I was bleeding to death. I'm told they call it DIC. They were close to losing me. If it hadn't been for the ICU doctor's fast action...
Once I am stabalized I'm brought to a room in the ICU. I don't remember much of anything else about the day. I know I wanted to see Baby A so badly. I ask how he is doing and am so relieved to hear he is out of the NICU and is absolutely perfect. Both babies are strong and healthy. H promises to hold off giving the names until I've gotten the chance to see both boys and decide. He spends the night with them in the maternity ward while I'm in the ICU.
I grieve not seeing my first son the day he was born, but I am so happy he is okay.
May 8, Tuesday morning at 3:00 a.m., feeling pretty awful. Get up to go the bathroom. Heavy watery discharge then the release of a lot of mucuos. The mucuos plug? Water breaking? Not sure. Wake H. Call the doctor. Doc says to come to the hospital to be sure. Needed to be there that morning early anyway for 12:00 planned C-section. Debated calling and waking parents. Decided to call them and let them know we were headed out.
By 4:30 a.m. hooked up to monitors in labor and delivery triage room. Nurse determines water had not broken, but contractions starting and very painful. Doc on her way. Told the C-section would be moved up to 9:00 a.m. H calls my parents with update--there already on the way. Doc arrives. Now it's sometime around 6:00 a.m. Suddenly told the C-section is going to happen now. I'm in the OR. Get the spinal. Painless. I hold H's hand.
Baby A (Zachary) is born at 6:35, 5 pounds 11 ounces and 19 1/4 inches. He is in some distress and is whisked away to the NICU. I didn't see him.
Baby B (Alexander) is born at 6:37, 5-10 oz and 19 1/4 inches. He is cleaned up and brought to rest on my shoulder. He sucks my face as I greet him--Hi, Baby! Then he is put in the incubator by my side for a bit. H has gone to check on Baby A, who is fine but being monitored. H goes back and forth between us. We're asked if we know the names for each baby. Say we have names picked but I need to see Baby A first to figure out who should be who.
I ask for an ice chip but am denied. They don't want anything in my system...something appears to be wrong. Doc tells me I may need a hysterectomy (which did not happen). I think...What?? Inside panic but too weak to ask why or what's going on. Whatever you have to do I say.
Everything goes black.
I hear a woman calling my name sharply. I open my eyes and see a doctor hovering over me that I don't know. She says in the same urgent voice--Do you know where you are?? I give the name of the hospital. Do you know what happened to you? I just delivered twins through a C-section I say. She keeps repeating, "No, do you know what happened to you? Do you know where you are?" Meanwhile both of my hands are being slapped by nurses on either side of me and I feel attempts at needles being poked into the veins. We can't get any veins they're yelling. I think that's odd--my veins are usually so good. The jab me up and down the hands and arms until finally they get IVs in both. Everytime I start to close my eyes my name is called sharply and I'm asked the same questions. I see bags of blood being hooked up. The doctor yells that they're going to need more blood products; there's no time to wait. I'm told I'm in intensive care in critical condition.
I have no idea what has happened. I now know my blood wouldn't clot and I was bleeding to death. I'm told they call it DIC. They were close to losing me. If it hadn't been for the ICU doctor's fast action...
Once I am stabalized I'm brought to a room in the ICU. I don't remember much of anything else about the day. I know I wanted to see Baby A so badly. I ask how he is doing and am so relieved to hear he is out of the NICU and is absolutely perfect. Both babies are strong and healthy. H promises to hold off giving the names until I've gotten the chance to see both boys and decide. He spends the night with them in the maternity ward while I'm in the ICU.
I grieve not seeing my first son the day he was born, but I am so happy he is okay.
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