Thinking about 2003

Happy New Year friends! Ready for another one of my birth stories? I have another one comin' at you, and next month, yet another. :) We have this thing for winter babies. Or maybe I should say we have a thing for spring...? Tomorrow K turns 6. It seems pretty ridiculous to me. I just can hardly get my mind around the fact that he is getting so grown. Tomorrow I have a special little look at the past 6 years that I am going to share with you. Come back for that, it's pretty cool! :) Have I reeled you in yet? The New Years day previous to the day of K and J.D.s birth was one of cautious hopefulness for us. I had been on bed rest at home for a week. As my body progressed it was needful that I be hospitalized to try to further put off their birth. I was not quite 6 months pregnant, and obviously scared. We wanted our boys to be healthy so much! We wanted more time. I tried to stay so still and do every thing the doctors told me. We prayed for many more weeks. It was hard for me to spend my days in the hospital and even as I prayed that I would be there for 10-12 more weeks I inwardly shuddered at the thought. My doctors hoped for, at the very least, 3 more weeks. That wasn't to be. My parents had spent some time with us while I was on bed rest at home. They stayed for a while during my hospital vigil, but were finally assured by the doctors that I was in there for the long haul and they began the 8 hour trip back home. I remember our friends Chad and Rachel coming up to the hospital with delicious food and smiles on New Years Eve to try to cheer us up. It was so thoughtful of them and really did help turn around the somber mood. I fell asleep often that night. The amount of drugs in my body was not real conducive to normal conversation and fun. I especially grew to detest the magnesium sulfate. It made me overly warm and anxious. It was supposed to be a powerful agent in stopping labor. It was only one of 6 different drugs I was on. As detestable as some of them were, they did delay the inevitable. Some days, as I laid alone in the hospital room that had become my temporary abode I felt desperate and would cry for hours. Part of it was fear. Part of it was the medications. Part of it was lack of sleep. I hardly slept at all at night. I cried whenever Dave left. Some of the staff were wonderful, some left much to be desired. I remember one nurse in particular who always seemed to be in a bad mood. They had to monitor the babies every few hours. She never could seem to get the leads on right to be able to hear their heart beats and she would get really grumpy about it. They were supposed to monitor heart rates for about an hour and I had to lie very still and flat on my back during this process. One time the nurse forgot about me. I called a few times, but they were too busy to acknowledge me. I remember laying there, having to go to the bathroom badly, being uncomfortable, scared as contractions get stronger, and just praying. On New Years Eve we watched fireworks out my hospital window and I laid in bed wondering what the year would bring. I'm glad I couldn't see into the future right then. The afternoon of the second brought more contractions. All of those lovely medications were increased. I had a constant IV drip with magnesium. I couldn't feel any of the contractions. It still seems so bizarre to me and I don't understand why. the only way we knew that true active labor had started was by monitor next to my bed. It was showing big peaks and valleys by evening. Nothing was stopping it. I couldn't believe that things were really in motion for me to give birth. The nurses began bringing supplies into my room. We called my parents, who had just recently made it home. They got back in their car and started the trip back. We called a few more people. And we prayed. I couldn't stop shaking. Dave knelt by my bed and I was so touched by his prayer. He told God that ever since we had conceived these boys we hadn't seen them as ours. They were always God's boys. We pleaded for their lives, but dedicated them to God. They took me to the operating room just in case a C-section would be needed. The plan was to try a natural birth and hope both boys cooperated. J.D. was the one causing the trouble at the moment and was very low. I was completely dilated at that point, but all contractions had stopped. The operating table was so sterile, hard, and cold. I was very uncomfortable. I had oxygen strapped over my face and couldn't see much as my glasses had been taken off. I was shaking uncontrollably. Although the boys were small, pushing them out was difficult due to not having the help of contractions to assisit in the process. J.D. was born after about a half hour of pushing. K was stubborn and almost caused the need of a C-section. He was not turned the right way and was stuck. I panicked. My doctor (who was not very kind by the way) acted quickly. He made a quick cut and reached in to turn K. That was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced in my life. I had no pain medication and it was never offered. Y'all know how I am with that... :) The boys were quickly rushed to the NICU. Dave went with them. I wanted Dave to go with them, but I cried when I was all alone. I was so cold. My body was in shock and pain. It seemed to take hours for the doctor to do the stitching. I wanted so badly to see my babies, but I was returned to my room to rest for at least an hour. I tried to get out of bed to prove I could go see my babies. I nearly fainted. They were right that time. A few hours later I was wheeled into the NICU. I finally got to meet them, but at a distance. They were critically ill. My birth experience with J.D. and K was so different then how I had dreamed it would be. The words that keep coming to my mind are cold and fear. The months following my first experience with giving birth were mixtures of the deepest pain, the most intense love, and the greatest miracles I have witnessed. See you tomorrow!