The waiting game…
My husband and I always wanted a big family. After trying to conceive for almost 2 years, we went to the doctor holding back the tears. The fertility doctor said, “have no fears, your urine test confirms, that you and your husband are already pregnant! You won’t be needing my help after all!” Disbelief and triumphant joy filled our hearts. Our dream realized after many failed attempts…
A child, at last, to nurture and hold!
When the doctor called us in for an early ultrasound to double-check the date of conception, he paused and stared for what seemed like forever while assessing our growing peanut and miracle.“Look closely at this,” he proclaimed with a serious tone. My heart dropped and I sensed panic and dread. I thought to myself, “Why was he at pause? What could be wrong?” The doctor spoke after what seemed like an eternity. “Your baby is special in many ways.”
I looked closer and thought ‘Oh no’ something is wrong with our baby! What is wrong with its head? It looks like 2 heads! Oh, wait. It does have 2 heads! Oh wait, is that TWO heartbeats I see? Wait, 2 heads and 2 hearts means TWO babies?
Could it really be? Not 1, but 2 miracles!?!
After telling my mom & sisters the unbelievable news, they told me they weren’t surprised because apparently as a child, I always told them I wanted to be a mommy to twins when I got older. My prized toy/possession of my childhood was, in fact, twin Cabbage Patch girls!
Fast forward to 28 weeks along in our pregnancy, a bad flu bug had me dehydrated around Thanksgiving 2004. The dehydration led to contractions that are common earlier in moms of multiples. I ended up on hospital bed rest for 21 days until the twins arrived, due to a young intern nurse who accidentally ruptured my amniotic sac with her fingernail. The cervical check was a mistake and I was rushed in an ambulance to a high-risk labor and delivery hospital. After we arrived, we were told the cervical check should not have been done on a mom of multiples that far along.
Sigh. The. Damage. Was. Done.
Fluids and rest were what I needed, but unfortunately, preterm labor medication and 100% hospital bedrest to stop pre-term labor is what fate served me instead. The doctors were convinced the babies were going to be born that evening in November, but by the grace of God, they held out another 21 days after I went into premature labor.
First-time mom. Terrified. Scared. Would my babies survive?
If they did, what challenges would they face? As a master in social work highly trained and specialized in child development, I knew the ramifications for babies born too early. The ‘what if’s’ consumed my mind.
The boys were born 2.5 months early at 30 weeks. We were told all kinds of frightening statistics regarding their potential brain, eyesight, hearing, and developmental delays (if they were to survive). On top of being preemies, both had chronic lung disease from prematurity (otherwise known as BPD) and one boy had a brain hemorrhage. One of the twins was born breech and almost didn’t make it through his traumatic delivery. Both boys had a long road of ups/downs in the NICU for 9 weeks. Both were survivors on so many levels. With a triple episiotomy, I survived too. My son was the last breech delivery that practice ever attempted to perform again.
I believe every child is a miracle. I believe children who survive NICU life and defy statistics and difficult medical hurdles are SUPER miracles.
When you leave the NICU after severe birth trauma experiences, you are left with multiple specialists and an often vague medical diagnosis, of ‘we’ll have to wait and see how the future unfolds.’ The ambiguity of not knowing exactly how premature or birth trauma injuries will ‘play out’ is a difficult pill to swallow as a parent. Particularly after surviving NICU life. You just want the pain and worry to be over, yet this isn’t usually the case. The numerous post NICU specialty appointments to get our children the help they needed was an overwhelming experience at times. The scars and post-trauma from NICU life stay with you, imprinted forever. Yet, soften over time. You become a different parent on many levels because of what you have endured and seen your child go through.
The NICU experience stays with you long after you bring your baby home from the NICU.
Our first five years home with the twins during long/harsh Minnesota winters and endless cold/flu seasons were very hard on us. In fact, their first winter home, they were not allowed out of the house until Spring due to the medical risks. A home nurse would visit us on a weekly basis. Pneumonia. Croup. Whooping Cough. (They got it all in their early years, even vaccinated!) Anything the boys were exposed to, could be life-threatening. So, our first journey out of the house post NICU discharge, was when they were 5 months old to a much-delayed work baby shower. It was an isolating time, but we incubated and protected our boys in every way possible.
Many sleepless nights watching their breathing, the emergency airway epinephrine medicine within arms reach and falling asleep next to them to monitor their EVERY. BREATH. First time parenting took to an entirely new level, yet we knew no differently. The monitors ringing and alarms dinging; the DSAT’s; the nurses and doctors running in when your baby is ‘coded’ for resuscitation efforts. ‘Breathe baby, please just breathe. Take a big boy breath for Mommy, its OK, you are going to be OK.’
In honor of all the resilient survivors and invisible heroes (parents, siblings, doctors, nurses, social workers, pastors, etc) in the NICU this month. We see you. We remember you always.
We know how difficult this uphill battle and uncertain road feel. The angels on earth inside the walls of the NICU, otherwise known as NICU nurses and doctors, keep your babies alive, 24-7, watching over with vigilant care. It is a place no parent ever dreams of being and one not easily forgotten. The families who make it out, have remarkable warrior stories to tell; ones that have changed them indescribably. It is a scary and uncertain place, not knowing on any given moment if your child will survive, let alone thrive. They didn’t sign up for this. Yet, it is their story…and so it is yours to honor too. Who knew we would land in the NICU yet again for another harrowing birth trauma experience and battle (Prolapse Cord/ Hypoxic Ischemic Encephalopathy) years later with our 5th child. Her miraculous story is still unfolding at age 5 and her doctors and nurses still refer to her severe case as, the ‘perfect storm.’
Looking back, I don’t know how we did it. We just did. Survival mode kicks in.
My husband and I were so focused on their care and their miracle resilience of surviving and thriving, despite the odds stacked against them, that we didn’t fully realize how hard it was during those early years of raising twins who were sick a lot! The truth is that my husband and I are survivors too.
As I bear witness to my twin boys beginning yet another milestone in life (high school), I still choke up with sentimental gratitude at times. They really are a dream come true. Knowing just how lucky we are that my preemie princes, now teenagers are thriving in all ways. Gifted and talented; honors academics, stellar soccer players with boundless energy and healthy lungs; social with lots of friends and both unique with their own special interests & talents. They are true miracles.
