May 24, 2006

Whew! Are you kidding me? I can't believe I typed that much last night and STILL only got to the recovery room. This is one heck of a story. I hope it's as interesting to everyone else as it is to me. If not, then I've got a lot of bored friends out there or a lot of people lying and saying, "I am always looking at your blog!" :)

Okay. Where was I? The nurses talking about the cords and how they wanted to see them, if they hadn't already been disposed of. How in the heck do you dispose of umblical cords, anyway? I shudder to think.

At one point, someone (I couldn't tell you who -- too many pain drugs) told me to not be surprised if I were asked to be in a medical journal. I guess it was that wild.

Hey -- when I screw something up, I make sure I go all the way with it.

After recovery, I was wheeled through the NICU to see the girls. Truth be told, I don't remember much of this, except that I was like a bull in a china shop. Here I was, still on the gurney, being wheeled through some of the tightest working conditions you've ever seen. They really work with so little space in there and how we got me through to see not one but TWO babies is beyond me.

I remember seeing Grace and noting that they had not replaced her intubation. I saw Faith and thought, "Why aren't my identical twins identical?" They looked nothing alike. They still don't.

I was taken to the 2nd floor for recovery and put in room 213 (I thought it was funny that the girls were born at 2:11 and 2:12 and I was in 213). Probably no one else finds that amusing.

I was hoisted into bed and Todd and I were left alone. I think. Most of this is pretty blurry to me. I was in shock (surgery will do that to you), I had lost more blood than expected (and you didn't think I could be any paler) and I was taking pain meds as the epidural/spinal wore off. I know Todd was running on fumes. My dad would later say it was like watching someone who had just done a pound of crack cocaine. He just couldn't sit still. He was nervous, happy, in shock and dealing with just about every other emotion available. He left shortly after I got into my room to go home and get some rest (by this time, it was evening and the sun was going down).

That night, Sylvia visited me and we had a nice talk about babies (hers and mine!) and everything else. It was the calm before the storm.

At 9:00 my nurse came in and said, "Okay -- it's time to walk!"

I'm sorry. What did you say? Did you say walk? I nearly looked her in the eye and said, with all honesty, "I'm a c-section patient," meaning, "I need to stay in bed for awhile."

She must have been the shock on my face and she said, "The faster you're up, the faster your incision will heal." Oh my Lord -- this wasn't a mistake.

Apparently, there is a technique to getting out of bed only five hours after a five-inch incision has been made in your lower abdomen.

1. Scootch all the way to the side of the bed
2. Raise the head of the bed all the way up
3. Push up on your elbow
4. Push up on your hand
5. Swing your legs over the side of the bed and use the rails to sit up
6. Put your feet flat on the floor
7. Stand up while holding onto the IV pole
8. Scream like hell

Okay, I added that last one, but I was not at all prepared for what this would feel like. It was awful. It was this burning, searing pain, especially on the left side where the clamp had gone. And I was going to make it clear across the room (about seven feet) to the bathroom? Who are YOU kidding, lady?

But I made it! The first steps were hard and each one got a little easier and a little easier. The nurse helped me to the bathroom and back (it was during that "and" part between "bathroom" and "back" that I lost any ounce of dignity that I had left) and I blissfully laid down again. It was time again to walk at 1:00 a.m., but true to the nurse's word, it was much easier the second time around. After the 1:00 trip, I was free to lie in bed until morning.

BIG MISTAKE.

I was awoken by a very brusk and hearty woman at 7:30 that morning who set down my breakfast tray and took my vital signs. Good morning, sunshine.

Shortly after, my nurse, Yasmin, walked in.

Now, for anyone who is planning to have a baby at Methodist Hospital (Med Center location), you need to commit this name to memory: Yasmin. Yasmin. YASMIN. Got it? If she is your nurse, run the other way. Or ask her to do so before she can get her hands on you. Yasmin, bad. No Yasmin, good.

First of all, Yasmin is a beautiful woman of Indian decent with a gorgeous accent. Very exotic and pretty. I hated her immediately.

No, actually, I liked her a lot. I though, "Oh good -- she'll be a good nurse." Usually I'm right about these things. Usually.

She had a very no muss, no fuss attitude and asked me immediately if I needed pain meds. I had been taking Nubane all night long to control the itching that is a side effect of the epidural, so I was feeling pretty good, lying there in bed.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

She instructed me to get up, move around, take a shower, etc and that after that, I could go to the NICU. I needed one more round of antibiotics, but we could take the IV out after the dose at 1:00 p.m. I was a little surprised by how little help she was offering and I asked, "Am I on my own with this?"

"Oh yes," she assured me. "You've already gotten up twice, so you're ready to do it on your own."

She left and I went through my instructions for getting out of bed. Once I was up, I decided to make my way to my bag and get my clothing for the day. Okay...first step.

Oh my God. The pain.

Second step.

The excrutiating pain.

Third step.

Shaking like a mental patient commences.

Fourth step.

Crying ensues.

Fifth step.

How in the hell will I get back to the bed?

Sixth step.

Where is the damn emergency button?

Seventh step.

Almost to the bed.

Eighth step.

Sit down.

I couldn't believe the pain. It was far worse than anything I have ever experienced. It was awful and I was totally unequipped to deal with it. I didn't believe then that I was ready to be doing this on my own and I will go to my death bed swearing that I should have had some assistance. I actually panicked, in that I didn't know how I was going to get help. It was just that bad.

I made it to the call button. I called Yasmin (please don't forget that name) and said, "I'm in so much pain. Please help me." It's all I could utter.

She walked in momentarily and fed me two Lortab and a Motrin. I asked if this was normal and she said, "Oh yes -- the first time is the hardest." I told her that I thought this was unusually painful and she said that I had just laid in bed too long and that my muscles had tensed up again. I needed to move more. And with that, she left.

I nearly slapped her. Obviously, this woman has never had a c-section, nor did she have any idea that saying stuff like that was not going to help me any. I needed a little bit of compassion here, but there was none. Not a bit.

I sat on the bed as the shaking subsided and the drugs took effect. I called Todd and asked if he was on his way. Luckily, he was and he was able to help me shower and get ready. I don't know what I would have done without him. He was my lifesaver.

Dad and Jean arrived and we talked for awhile. They left for the NICU and then back to Houston and I finished up hobbling around the room.

After this whole debacle, Todd wheeled me to the NICU to see the girls. This is the first, real memory I have of them. They were perfect. So small and helpless and yet so strong to survive such an ordeal. My heart filled with love and my eyes with tears. My daughters. Perfect and precious. My mind saw princess dresses and first days of school and dance lessons and Girl Scout initiations and first dates and broken hearts and proms and ... It was just too much. So much comes with girls. Was I up to this? I guess I'd find out.

We returned a little while later and Todd left to go meet his parents at our house. I was feeling a lot better by this time and managed to move around the room with the grace of Quasimodo. But at least I was moving.

After lunch, a new nurse came in. Where was Yasmin? Who cares? I asked this new woman, my new best friend, about the antibiotics. She said, "Oh - your doctor cancelled them. Didn't Yasmin tell you?" Chalk another one up to super nurse. I asked if the IV could come out and new nurse (name forgotten, I'm sorry) complied. Finally, I was free of it all!

Okay -- it's obvious to me that this is going nowhere fast. My ridiculous need for detail, combined with (or caused by) my obsessive-compulsive personality has bogged this blog down. It's a bogged blog. *Weak Smile Here*

So, I'm signing off for today. I'm going to give some thought to how I'm going to get everything in that I need to get in (I'm doing this for my own memory too) without robbing blogger.com of all of its memory.

Also, I'm aware that my link to the slideshow from yesterday isn't working, so I'm going to try to post some of the best photos here. We'll see. I'm never very good at this stuff.

Until then, thanks for bearing with me and the inane details of my c-section. It'll get better, I promise.

With love,
E

Moments later...

Yeah for me! I got the photos posted! Boo for me! They're all catty-wampus. I can fix them, but I'm just too tired now.

Here's the run down though.

- Umbilical cord debacle
- Precious babies (Grace is on the right, Faith on the left)
- Todd (I like to call this "Husband Debacle")
- Me being monitored. Yes, I'm wearing shorts, but they put a towel over them so that I would get transmission goop all over me. Such glamour...

May 23, 2006

I'm trying to decide if I'm going to bang this whole story out right here, tonight, or try to fit it in over the next few days. I guess we'll just see when my fingers turn blue.

At any rate, grab a sandwich, sit down and be prepared to read -- I have a LOT of catching up to do.

The last time I blogged was May 13, ten days ago. It was a Saturday and I came home the next day, as well, to celebrate Mother's Day. It was great. Todd fixed me a nice dinner of grilled salmon, mashed potatoes and fresh asparagus. The three of us spent some good, quality time together with a quiet afternoon at home.

San Antonio was seeing some interesting weather that day (stay with me -- I have a point here). Storms were rolling in from three sides of the city and everywhere you looked, there were dark clouds and gusty winds.

Apparently, changes in atmospheric pressure can cause severe changes in maternal pressure, too. I'm not 100% sure that maternal pressure is an actual term, but essentially, when the atmosphere changes in pressure, your body responds and that response includes pressures in amniotic fluid, etc. Makes sense to me.

It also makes sense to me in that I totally experienced this phenomenon on Mother's Day. I was miserable. I was cramping and contracting with only minutes in between. I loved being at home, but I even said to Todd at one point, "I may need to go back to the hospital." I couldn't move without a contraction coming on. All I could do was sit on the couch while Todd cooked, cleaned and brought me everything I needed. Bummer.

We returned to the hospital that afternoon and for the first time, I felt 100% sure that I was exactly where I needed to be. I didn't have that hint of, "Is this really necessary?" hanging out in the back of my mind.

Sure enough, the monitors don't lie and I was contracting like a wild woman. With twins, they allow you up to six contractions per hour before anyone panics and I was having less than that, but they had significantly increased in frequency, which was something to watch.

Everyone seemed to be fine and I settled back into another night in room 142. The storms passed through the area (without a drop of rain at our house, I might add) and everything went back to normal. Whatever that means.

Dr. Harden returned from her vacation on Monday morning and sat down with me to talk about the c-section. We were close enough to schedule it! Dr. Higby couldn't make it in for a 7:00 a.m. surgery, so we'd have to do it at 5:30 p.m. on Monday, May 22. I didn't care -- I was just happy to see a light at the end of the tunnel, although I was scared that it might be a train.

This was a big treat for me, too, in that I started to realize what a big deal it is to have Dr. Higby in your c-section. He's a perinatologist, which means he's in the business to get high-risk babies here safely, leaving the actual delivery for the patient's OB. Every single nurse (I kid you not -- every one) to whom I mentioned Dr. Higby's presence just got this surprised look on her face and said, "Wow! He never does deliveries! This must be one special pregnancy!"

In a way this warmed my heart and in a way it scared the hell out of me. Why can't this just be your run-of-the-mill c-section? How did I get here, anyway?

Moving on, though, Dr. Harden and I also discussed my contractions the day before. She was not thrilled to hear about them and said, "I think this weekend we should skip the 'going-home' passes." I told her I agreed, that Sunday had scared me.

"Okay -- we have a date on Monday the 22nd!" I was thrilled!

We also agreed to start the second round of steroids that increase lung development that same day so that they could be on board if I went into labor early.

Tuesday and Wednesday brought more of the same -- some uterine activity (ie: contractions) and the usual decels from both girls. Faith was her usual easy-to-find and easy-to-keep-on-the-monitor self while Grace managed to elude everyone in the unit, while also experiencing a heartrate variations. I wondered if their personalities would be the same out of the womb as they were inside. I wouldn't be let down.

Thursday rolled around and the misery of late pregnancy with twins was totally realized. I woke up that morning and all I could tell my nurse was, "I feel horrible." I couldn't give specifics (outside of contractions), but nothing felt right. Everything hurt. I ached like I had the flu, was tired like I had run a marathon and had the appetite of a mouse (this is not something that happens often, folks, so it's worth mentioning). I could do nothing more than take Tylenol and lie in bed. I didn't want to watch TV, talk on the phone, take visitors or even walk around. All I wanted to do was sleep to give myself the small escape that only a nap could provide.

Dr. Harden visited me and recommended Lortab to help dull the overall pain and achiness and then sat and looked at me pensively.

"I am tempted to get the girls, Erin. But four days can make a huge difference in babies this premature and I'd like to see how long we can go."

I agreed. As miserable as I was, life was at stake here and the longer the girls cooked, the better. I could hang on.

I had my Dr. Higby sonogram that night and while we didn't do a growth analysis, we were assured that all looked well and that everything that needed to be happening was happening. It was a little relief in an otherwise stressful day.

That night's monitoring brought more contractions, more cramps, more uterine activity, more decels from the girls, etc. It was like everything had suddenly been sped up about four or five times.

Now this next part strikes me with a lot of irony. If you'd like to refresh yourself in my pregnancy, go to http://thepruetzfamily.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_thepruetzfamily_archive.html and read the ninth paragraph down. If you don't want to, I'll explain:

This whole thing started with one, arbitrary question that would totally change the course of our pregnancy: Were you taking any fertility drugs?

With that one question, we found out that we'd have not one but TWO babies and that our lives would never be the same.

Friday started much the same. I woke up in the same misery as Thursday, having barely slept the night before and being able to do little more than just lie there like a slug. My nurse walked in to ask me how I was feeling and I reported that life was just about the same. She left and returned a few moments later to ask the question that would change our lives forever: Have you had anything to eat or drink today?

What a stupid question! Duh! It's like 7:15 a.m. and the breakfast trays aren't even here! Of course I haven't! Why would you ask such a...

Oh.

Dr. Harden walked in, again with that concerned look on her face and said, "How about having some babies today?"

My response, "Okay." What else was I supposed to say???

"I don't know why you're so miserable. It may just be pregnancy and early labor, but Dr. Higby and I agree that there might be something going on that we're not seeing. We don't want to go into a weekend wondering if you'll go emergent at any moment and wondering if we'll get here in time. We'd rather just take these girls today, so we're scheduled for a 2:00 c-section."

And that was it. With one, quick question, I was having the girls on Friday, May 19 at 2:00 p.m. I was given the schedule (you'll do this at this time, this at that time, be taken back at that time, etc...) and left to make phone calls.

I called Todd first, of course, and he made it to the hospital in record time. ZZ was there too and all together we talked and prayed for the safety of the girls. It was nice.

And just like a well-oiled machine, everything was done when it was supposed to be done. They shaved my belly at 12:00 noon, started my IV at 12:30 and wheeled me out of the room at 1:05.

Z, Todd and I were taken first to the c-section recovery area where I talked with the anesthesiologist, Dr. Chapa (who, by the way, was awesome) and where Todd and ZZ "suited" up for their presence in the room.

I was rolled into the OR (OR #5, same room where ZZ's twins were born!) and was sat upon the table. Dr. Chapa came in to start the epidural/spinal block. I had to sit very still (of course) and my shoulders began to ache like an SOB as I sat hunched over while he put a catheter in my spine. It must have taken 20 minutes, but when it was done...oh man... All of the aches and pains I had felt for seven months were suddenly cured and I could lie comfortably. It was amazing.

I could feel movement going on down at my feet -- nurses moving me around to the best position, Dr. Chapa looking for circulation, etc -- but I could feel absolutely no pain or pressure. Only the sensation of being moved without moving. Does that make sense?

It was wild.

ZZ and Todd were led in and the screen was put up in front of me. Both Drs. Higby and Harden were in good, jovial moods (relieved of the stress of this pregnancy!), as was Dr. Chapa and we were all having a very fun time joking about what they were and were not doing to me. I asked how it was fair that ZZ and Todd got to watch, but I didn't...

ZZ gave me the play-by-play. "They're cutting. They're burning through the flesh with the burn tool." Etc, etc. It was crazy. She'd take a photo and then show it to me on the digital camera screen, so I was getting to see it all, with a two-or-three second delay.

Todd just stood there going, "Oh wow..." It really is a cool thing to see.

Suddenly, though, as I was watching Z and T, their faces went from, "COOL!" to "OH MY GOSH!" Apparently, there are some clamps that are put into the small incision and that pull your muscles apart, stretching you way wide. I don't recall this from ZZ's c-section, but it was obviously worth missing. The two of them were just horrified to see what was happening!

A few more tugs, a few more organs pushed around and T and Z both yelled out, "Oh here she comes!"

Out popped Faith and Z snapped a photo. 3 lbs, 1.2 oz at 2:11 p.m. A perfect little cry that sounded more like a kitten than a baby.

Moments later, Grace arrived. 3 lbs, 12.5 oz at 2:12 p.m. But no cry. Silence.

There was a team of about seven people from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) there to assist each girl and the respiratory therapist went to work on Gracie. She was immediately intubated and bagged and within minutes, a small cry was heard. What a sigh of relief.

Now while all of this was going on to my left, Drs. H and H were having their own conversation about the umbilical cords.

"Oh my gosh. Look at that. I've never seen anything like this in my life. How did these babies survive?"

"I'm so glad we took them today. I don't know how they did it. These girls shouldn't have made it."

Apparently, the knots in the cords had knots. And those knots had knots. When I asked how many knots there were, fully expecting to hear, "Two or three," like all of my other mo/mo moms had heard, they said, "There's no way to tell. There are just too many."

Truth be told, though, this just made me all the more relieved. They almost didn't make it. They should have died. But they didn't -- God's grace and the prayers of so many got these girls here safely. They were here, they were breathing and they were doing just fine (for 32 weekers, of course). I actually felt dizzy at this point. I thought I would faint. So many months of worrying and wondering what to do. Turns out, we did the right thing, even though we had no idea.

The girls were taken to the NICU and I was taken to recovery, where I stayed for about two hours. I wouldn't see the girls until later that night, but Todd spent time running back and forth, giving me the play-by-play on the girls. Grace had pulled out her intubation, but was doing fine without it. Faith was smaller, but seemed stronger. Both girls were getting "Excellent" reports.

During the times that I was alone, I could overhear the recovery nurses talking about the umbilical cords. They were aghast at how horrific they were, apparently. One even asked if they could go see them. YUCK!

The drama doesn't end there, but only good things happen from this point on, with a setback here or there. I've been typing for 90 minutes now and I really need a break. Hopefully this will give you something to discuss over the water cooler on Wednesday. :)

Below is the link to the kodakgallery.com slideshow that ZZ created. All of the photos I've talked about here are in the slideshow, but I think you have to be a kodakgallery.com subscriber to view. It's free. Be CAREFUL! These are gorey c-section photos with a lot of blood and a lot of internal organs. Don't say I didn't warn you.

http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?&mode=fromsite&collid=529684029105.965573446305.1148437438838&conn_speed=1

Your prayers, thoughts and love are appreciated more than you'll ever know. If you'll send one last one to God -- a prayer of Thanksgiving, to let Him know how thankful we are that Faith and Grace are safely here.

Erin
Mommy, x3

May 13, 2006

Well, I didn't think it would happen this week, but once again the fetal gods have smiled on me and I am at home for a few hours. It's been quite a seven days.

The first of the week started out just fine. In fact, I even commented to favorite nurse Paula that things were going too well and that I fully expected all hell to break loose at any time.

The girls were consistently doing well in their monitoring, staying still for the duration of the hour and moving at the opportune times. All looked well with me, too, with minimal swelling and strong vital signs.

But lo and behold, Thursday rolled around and my blood pressure shot up to a totally unusual ~180/90. Now I'm a 105/40 kind of girl, so this was more than a little bit alarming. My nurse at the time took my pressure a number of times, in a number of positions (apparently lying on your left side is the way to achieve the lowest blood pressure possible), but it still stayed elevated. The doctor on call (mine is on vacation) saw me first thing in the morning and still my pressure was up. So labs were ordered to check for elevated enzymes and proteins. Should either or both come up too high, the diagnosis would be preeclampsia or pregnancy-induced hypertension.

I made sure to ask a lot of questions (who? me?) and found out a few things about preeclampsia. Of course, I am sure that these things are common knowledge to a lot of people (even those who've never had it), but I'd never bothered to look into the disease.

1. It's not caused by anything -- it's a disease of pregnancy that can strike anyone without regard to their normal blood pressure.
2. The risks are not on the babies (at least not primarily or even secondarily), but rather on the mom.
3. There is no cure. Mild and moderate preeclampsia are treated with strict bedrest. Severe preeclampsia is treated with delivery.

Okay, so, where did that leave me? Waiting on tests that took 24 hours, that's where. It was a long 24 hours, with most of my time spent in bed, lying down. Thank God for narcotics -- I don't know how I could have survived the back pain otherwise.

Thursday afternoon brought results from the first round of tests and while my enzymes were elevated, they were not in the "risky" zone. It would be up to the protein results to tell the rest of the story and they weren't due until mid-morning on Friday.

Thankfully, that night, was my bi-weekly ultrasound and Dr. Higby arrived around 7:00. Ahhh...a change in scenery! I was wheeled (apparently preeclampsia brings the need for a wheelchair) down to the ultrasound room with Todd in tow and we saw the usual stuff. Thankfully, once again, there is nothing to report but increased weights and growth. I was 30 weeks and 4 days at the time, and the girls looked like this:

Faith: 3 lbs, 2 oz, 29.0 weeks
Grace: 3 lbs, 6 oz, 29.0 weeks

We discussed the c-section and Dr. Higby reminded himself that he needed to schedule the operating room for the 22nd. Ummmm...hello? Please do it NOW! I'm so afraid that they won't have a space for me in the OR that day and that I'll be pushed to the 23rd or further!

It's normal for twins at this age to fall behind in gestational growth, we were told, and an hour later, I was back in my room. Luckily, it's sweeps week so all of the Thursday night shows on NBC were new episodes. "The Office" was one of the best season finales I've ever seen and Todd stayed through "ER" to make sure we caught all of the action. A brief reprieve from the monotony that is my recent life.

Friday morning I awoke to high blood pressure again and was told to stay put and don't sit up too much. Ugh...the misery!

The protein test came back around 10:00, though, and like the enzyme test, the proteins were elevated, but not indicative of preeclampsia. However, I was still having the high pressure, so I was told that I needed to take it easy. I had to cancel the volleyball tournament I was in that afternoon and take myself off the list for the marathon I was going to run today, but it's all for the best I, guess.

What else was I to do but take it easy??? I've become a freakin' expert on it!

By this morning, though, my pressure was back to closer to my norm... 117/72 and around there. The doc-on-call told me that if all looked well by afternoon, I could leave on my weekend pass. Freedom, albeit temporary!

We did monitoring around 11:00 and both girls started out looking good. A contraction here (they're more frequent and boy, when they come, they arrive with a vengence!) and a variable (dip in heartrate for one or both of the girls) there, but everything was good.

Of course, 15 minutes before I was to come off the monitor and be release for four hours, Grace decided to act up. Her heartrate is usually in the mid-150s with variables to 120 or 115. Well, today she wanted to show off and did something or another to increase her heartrate to the 180s and 190s with accelerations into the 200s. That meant more monitoring, to make sure that her heartrate came down. So we waited. And waited. And waited.

My nurse was in and out of my room with obvious concern for our little devil child (I say that with a lot of love, of course) and informed me that I wouldn't be able to leave until her rate went down and stayed down. As much as I hated to hear it, I knew it was the right thing to do. Thankfully, accelerations are less harmful that decelerations, although certainly not something to take lightly.

Finally, after about 30 minutes, her rate came down to her usual 150s. We breathed a sigh of relief (Todd and Devin were there) and I was told I could leave as long as I kept track of the girls, making sure they were kicking and moving about. It makes me laugh that they think it's something that could be ignored.

So here I am -- two close calls that nearly kept me from my weekly sabatical, but rising above the challenge anyway. :)

I guess I've expected this from the beginnning. There was no way I was going to be watching these girls nearly constantly for five weeks without seeing some drama here or there. I mean, it's just not feasible for my life or for theirs. :)

As of tomorrow, I'm 31 weeks, giving me only one week to go. Of course, the longer the girls cook, the better off they'll be, but I'm pretty ready for all of this to be over. I'm miserable and uncomfortable and home sick. If you will, please say a prayer that the 23rd will be open for my c-section and that the girls arrive without incident.

If, for some reason, I can't come home next weekend (I'm not sure why I won't, but I'm trying to cover all of my bases), I'll make sure Todd posts for me. It's exciting to think we're as close as we are and the Pruetz family is anxiously awaiting becoming the Pruetz Five in a week.

Love to all and thanks for everything...

E

May 6, 2006

Another Saturday afternoon, another blissful blog entry from my home computer! Ahh...the joy of sitting in a chair that isn't upholstered in vinyl or taking a nap in a bed whose feet and head don't go up and down...

As I am sure it is clear, the girls are doing great! It hasn't been a week without a little bit of excitement, but I wouldn't be blogging this entire pregnancy (and beyond) if there weren't at least a few interesting tidbits here and there.

The most interesting part of my week was last Sunday. I didn't have a chance to come home that day, but I did get to go to Mass at the chapel inside Methodist Hospital. I returned shortly after 4:00 and was promptly put on the monitors. Both girls seemed to be doing well, with Faith running in the 170s and Grace making her signature little dips from the 160s to the 130s and back. Nothing to be worried about -- in fact, all good signs.

Now I never nap while being monitored. I'm way too much of a control freak for that. If I'm not watching and one of the girls dips way, way, way low, what will happen? I may be in the hospital to be monitored, but ulimately the girls are my responsibility.

Of course, there's always the exception to the rule. Remember, I'm technically about 45 weeks pregnant (and for those of you who aren't familiar with pregnancy, it only lasts 40 weeks). I'm huge (or "yooge" as Donald Trump would say) and just about everything I do makes me tired. Even walking more than a 20 yards or so gives my hamstrings the feeling that I've just done a few sets of squats. No kidding.

So going to Mass was very tiring for me. First the walk to the chapel, then the sitting and standing (I forewent the kneeling for fear I'd never get up) and walking back. I know it seems like no big deal, but let me tell you, it's the equivalent to running a few miles in my book.

So I dozed while monitoring. I didn't mean to, but it happened. I couldn't have been asleep more than four or five minutes when I awoke to my nurse, Paula, running (yes, running) into my room saying, "Where is that baby???"

"WHAT?" I shot up in bed, wondering if I had given birth without my knowledge...

Just behind Paula were two other nurses and before I could get a, "What is going on?" out of my mouth, one was picking up the phone to call my doctor, one was reading the monitoring strip and one was taking my pulse.

I tried to shake off the sleepiness to ask what was going on, but another nurse ran in and my adrenaline shot through the roof. It finally dawned on me -- something was terribly wrong with one of the girls.

I took a peak at the monitoring strip between two nurses and realized that Grace (of course) had slipped into the 80s from the 160s in a matter of seconds. I mean seconds -- like two or three. Paula had seen it from the central monitoring center at the nurses' station.

By this time, the nurses were calming down and I was starting to regain the ability to speak. To put it into perspective, it had only been about 45 seconds since the first three nurses had shot into my room at break-neck speed.

It seemed that they had figured out what had happened. Apparently, Grace had artfully slipped out from under the monitor in one of her signature flips and the monitor, instead of going blank (which would have been no big deal), picked up my heartrate. Hence the taking of my pulse. Moments later, she slipped back underneath and the monitor was picking up a heartrate in the 160s again. It didn't take long for the nurses to figure it out, thankfully, since if they had panicked, I would be the mother of three right now.

They kept me on the monitor for another hour or so, which was fine with me, and we all laughed at how the girls' heartrates both went up and stayed up for quite awhile the scare, as the adrenaline that I produced caused them to take a leap, too. Needless to say, when all was done and I was peeled off the ceiling, I slept very well that night.

The rest of the week went off without a hitch. A blip here, a dip there, but nothing alarming. A few times I was monitored for more than an hour at a time for precaution's sake, but, obviously, all went well. It's to be expected and I'm learning to not panic at every little variation.

Yesterday marked my halfway point, assuming we make it to May 21. It was a good day that gave me a new outlook on this whole thing -- I'm on the downhill side of my incarceration.

To top the good day off, we had a biophysical profile done on both babies. It's a standard procedure for high-risk pregnancies and it measures the babies on five different criteria: Monitoring strips (heartrate, essentially), movement, breathing motions, tone (ie: flexing of a hand or foot) and amniotic fluid. The profile essentially tells the doctor just how prepared the kiddos are for the outside world, since oftentimes multiples are a somewhat delayed in their fetal development. In short, it lets the doctor know just how mature the baby is without taking into account gestational age. I was 29 weeks, 5 days when we had ours done.

The profile results in up to eight points (don't ask how they divided five into eight...wouldn't ten have been easier?) and I was told by a number of nurses to not be worried if the girls scored a 6/8 because at this age, breathing motions may not be present. It's not a sign, they assured me, of their ability to breathe once out of the womb, it's just a sign to indicate if they have started to learn the breathing process.

Well, I'm more than proud to say that my little overachievers both scored 8/8! Breathing motions were present in both, as were all of the other criteria! Dr. Higby took a quick look at all of the other stuff, too, like their kidney functions, bladder functions, etc. In his words, "They look perfect." Well duh, Dr. H ... of course they're perfect. :)

So that was a good top-off to the week. I had a little high all day yesterday, knowing that the girls are doing so well and was even happy to talk to both of my doctors about scheduling my c-section since we're getting so close to 32 weeks. Anything could happen between now and then, but we've come so, so far.

I got tears in my eyes when I recalled our first appointment on February 2 when we were diagnosed with mo/mo twins. We were so terrified by the diagnosis and couldn't believe that we were in a situation where abortion is often considered therapeutic. It just seemed like we'd never get to this point and yet, here we are, still pregnant with two little angels. God is so good.

As for news from the home front...Devin spent the week at Todd's parents' house and had a great time getting to rule the roost. Todd drove to Yoakum this morning to pick him up and was in my room at the hospital before noon. It was great to see Devin, but there is a little bit of "reprogramming" that will need to be done, as someone may have had a little too much freedom while away from home. But as he put his head down for his nap today, he did say something to the effect of, "I'm glad to be home."

I can relate to that comment 100%.

April 29, 2006

Greetings once again from my home computer! I'm still sans laptop and, thus, internet access, but I'm not as nuts without a machine as I thought I would be. It's kind of nice to be "free" of the internet for awhile, although I would not want to live like this forever. I'm not an animal. :)

Well, it's Saturday afternoon and the fact that I am writing this from home should be a good indication to you that things are going great at the hospital. The girls have been showing excellent heartrates and behavior and have earned me another couple of days of multi-hour passes. Ahh, the bliss.

We had a little snafu last weekend after my excusion out on Sunday afternoon. I returned to the hospital to get "hooked up" to the machine for my monitoring and Grace started showing some preliminary signs of distress. Nothing worth going to the Labor and Delivery department for (according to my favorite nurse, Paula), but something that needed to be monitored for more than just an hour.

Boy howdy, when they say "more than just an hour," they mean it. I was hooked up from 4:00 p.m. until 2:00 a.m. I was allowed a break here and there to pee (I spend half of my life in the bathroom) and stretch, but it was pretty awful. I ended up requesting a muscle relaxer because I was so stiff from lying on my back.

The great news is that despite Grace's misbehavior, all has gone back to normal. In fact, over the course of the last two weeks, we've gotten the opportunity to get to know the personalities of both of our little girls.

Faith has been nicknamed "Old Faithful." She can always be found in the same place (you'd be surprised how much babies can move around, even at THIS stage of the game) and always gives us a good, consistent heartrate. Her heartrate runs a little bit high (170 - 175/minute), but as we've gotten to know her, we've realized that it's not abnormal for her -- it's just a part of her physiology.

Grace, on the other hand, seems to take after her older brother in the "never stop moving" department. I would estimate that between the nurses and myself (I tend to do my own things after the nurse has left the room), we've spent at LEAST 12 hours searching for this kid or chasing her around my uterus (which I can't understand...it's not as though my uterus has corners). This kid can SQUIRM and she has made a legend of herself within the Antepartum department. Everyone knows that "Baby B Pruetz" is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to monitoring.

Grace also likes to "decel" her heartrate, which means that it drops below her baseline (usually around 150 or 155/minute) for more than 15 seconds. On more than one occassion, the nurse on duty has picked up the phone to call Dr. Harden, only for Grace's rate to go back to normal and stay there for the rest of the monitoring period. Bizarre...it's like she's testing us. I'd estimate she does this to us about every 36 hours.

Again, though, despite our goofy Grace, things are going very well. Dr. Higby came in to do a sonogram yesterday and proudly produced these results:

Faith: 2 lbs, 8 oz, measuring 28 weeks, 0 days
Grace: 2 lbs, 9 oz, measuring 28 weeks, 0 days
(At the time of the sonogram, I was 28 weeks, 5 days)

No signs of twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome and although the cords are tangled, they seem to be in good shape. For now, at least. I still wake up every morning and think, "Will I end this day a mommy of three?" I still shudder at the thought, although I'm equally as excited as I am scared.

I'm settling into a routine, which anyone who is a good enough friend of mine to be reading this knows how much I love a schedule. I usually wake around 7:30, start the first monitor of the day. I eat breakfast (don't ask about the food -- it's not worth the conversation...) and take a shower. I try not to watch TV all day in an effort to save my brain from turning to mush, so I usually then move to the couch to read or do a crossword puzzle. Next monitoring session, then lunch. A nap, more reading or playing cards, maybe make a phone call or two or talk to a visitor. Next monitoring, watch the news, eat dinner, watch some trash TV (The Simpsons or Seinfeld) and talk to my family (Todd will bring Devin or ZZ will come up, etc...). I usually do my final monitoring around 10:30 or so and take my Ambien just as I am being hooked up to the machine. That way, when 11:30 rolls around, I'm good and sleepy. Luckily, Dr. Harden has told the nurses not to bother me when I'm sleeping, so I get to sleep through the night without monitors, blood pressure cuffs or any other stupid stuff...

All in all, it's not that bad. Again, I really want to be home, but I'm taken good care of.

Thanks for the prayers, the love, the thoughts, the cards, the calls, the emails (even though I haven't read them...I know they are there) and the support. This would be perfectly impossible without you all.

Until next week or until I get in-room internet access,
E

April 22, 2006

Greetings from ... HOME!

That's right - I have been temporarily paroled from Methodist Hospital. I only have limited time here, so I'm going to make this quick. I haven't been able to establish an internet connection at the hospital yet (hopefully Monday...), so I'll give you the super-fast version of my week.

After many delays on Monday, April 17, I checked into room 159 at Methodist Hospital. I promptly (with Todd's help) moved into my room and made myself at home with photos, air fresheners and other homey touches. The monitoring started very quickly and I was soon settled in. The room was small, but adequate. What did I expect?

On Wednesday, though, it was announced that I would be moving rooms. Apparently, there is some multi-gozillion dollar expansion going on at Methodist and Room 159 was going to get the boot! So, they moved me into what's called a Deluxe Single. And wow -- deluxe it is! I mean, it's no five-star hotel, but as far as hospitals go, this is the cream of the crop.

I have my bed, plus an extra bed for Todd or ZZ or any mysterious, dark stranger who thinks I'm really sexy. Along with that, though, I have a living room (think fake leather here)/atrium area that looks out onto a courtyard, a small dining table with chairs and a mini-fridge. The extra room makes it a LOT easier to have Devin come visit. He can run around and play with Hot Wheels (and other such boyish toys) without the chance of accidentally knocking over some expensive piece of equipment or igniting the free-flowing oxygen. :)

So life at Methodist is good. I'm not as bored as I thought I'd be (although I am stiff from not moving around very much) and I actually have found that I don't have enough time in the day to get done what I need to get done. Specifically speaking, a number of you have called and I have not returned phone calls yet. I apologize profusely for that... The fact is, I really only get ten or 15 minutes at at time to talk because I'm either being monitored (and being monitored for twins is WAY different than being monitored for a singleton -- I usually spend an entire hour chasing them around my uterus, trying to get their heartrates to show up and spend another full hour sitting perfectly still so the heartbeat won't disappear again!), or having my temperature taken or being assesed or something else.

And as you all know, I like to talk, so ten or 15 minutes is really not enough. So I've put off a number of phone calls because I know I won't have the time I want to actually converse. Please accept my apologies and know that I WILL call you back. I promise.

The babies are doing great. Both are tracking along where they should. Grace has had some decelerations (where the heartbeat drops and stays below normal for more than a few seconds) and that has prompted my doctor to increase my monitoring sessions from every eight hours to every four. I'm not thrilled with that, but I have to remind myself that I am not there to be catered to with my own decisions, but I am there to watch my girls and get them here safely.

Aside from the decels, though, the girls couldn't be doing any better. I'm not having contractions (unheard of at 28 weeks with twins) and my blood pressure, temperature and everything else are right on track. I've had some back pain and stiffness, but I have been fed Flexeril (a muscle relaxer) a few times and that's more than remedied the problem. Of course, any problem is solved by a drug that keeps you asleep for 12 hours. No kidding.

There was some talk from Dr. Higby about getting me out of the hospital for good and doing in-home monitoring. At first I nearly kissed him on the lips, but the more I thought about it, the more I didn't like the idea. Again, the whole point of this is to get my girls here safely, and if I am at home, 15 miles from the hospital, and we detect distress, then what do I do? What if it's 5:00 in the evening? It'll take me 60-90 minutes to get to the hospital! So much can happen in that period of time and I don't like the "what ifs" of it all.

Dr. Harden agreed with me and spoke with Dr. Higby. Apparently, in-home monitoring and outpatient services are actually more expensive than in-patient monitoring, so my insurance company is happier anyway. Both doctors agreed that I'll just stay in the hospital, but be given passes to leave as long as the girls are looking good.

Hence, being home today! I have to go back in a little while for my 11:00 monitoring, but after that, I'm free for another four hours. Thank God for my ANGEL of a husband who is willing to drive me back and forth. Just being out of my room makes me feel like a new woman!

I'm signing off now. I have munchkin who needs to be tickled.

But before I go, thank you to all of you for your continued prayers, for your phone calls (even those unreturned) and for the visits. I just couldn't ask for a better circle of friends. God has blessed me so ubundantly and I'm having a hard time figuring out how to repay Him. It'll take a lifetime, but that's okay with me. It's worth it for friends like you.

I'll be back as soon as I can...

Until then,
Peace, love and blessings...

PS - Did I say I'd keep this short. Well, I lied. Remember, I LOVE to talk and typing counts as talking in my book...

April 17, 2006

Happy Easter!

"The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you." -- Matthew 28:5-7

It's been ten days since I've blogged and I apologize for the delay. We've had so much going on with my leaving work, getting ready for the hospital and family coming in.

The great news is that everything is great! I saw Dr. Higby on Wednesday and got to see the girls, of course. They both look great, weighing in a 2lbs, 0oz (Faith) and 2lbs, 1oz (Grace). They are both measuring mid-26 weeks, which is right where I am. Good news all around with all of the other tests, too.

We discussed the use of steroids during my hospitalization and agreed that I would go ahead and have both rounds as soon as I got there. One dose on Tuesday, one on Wednesday. The steriods help to speed up lung development and brain function in the babies, but also only have a limited span of usefulness. If I am lucky enough to make it to 32 weeks, we'll likely have another two-day round of them again before the scheduled c-section on May 21.

I asked about side effects and what I could expect to feel after these shots. Dr. Higby replied, "A big surge of energy." I told him, "Why couldn't you have given these to be BEFORE I hit the hospital, when I really NEEDED the energy? What am I going to do with it when all I can do is sit in bed???"

My appointment with Dr. Harden was on Thursday and again, more good news. All looks well with the girls, my glucose test came back normal (no gestational diabetes) and my weight is fine (although I do not like what the scale has to say).

We sat and discussed the hospital and she told me that Todd and I would need to come into her office first to talk with her (presumably about monitoring sessions, c-sections and everything else) and then we would go over to the hospital, which is connected to her building.

So we set the time to meet her for 2:20. I kind of wish I had set it for the morning, though. I've been anticipating this stupid trip to the hospital for months now and I just want to get in so I can get out. Now I have to wait around all afternoon to go. I just want to get it over with...

Dr. Harden told me just to bring all of my stuff up to her office and we could just take it over to my room from there. HAH! This poor woman hasn't a CLUE what she just said!

In the interest of keeping myself sane during my incarceration, I have packed up more items than you could possibly imagine. A laptop (please pray that I'll be able to establish i-net access...), books, crosstiching (shut up), puzzles, movies and just about everything else.

My office gave me a going away party on Thursday and gave me a huge basket full of stuff to do from coloring books to trashy magazines. My dad and Jean came in for Easter and bought me a portable DVD player. ZZ loaned me about 15 movies from her extensive library. I have photos of Todd and Devin and little amenities to make it feel like home. I'm all set...if I get bored, it's my fault.

The truth is, though, I couldn't be less prepared for this trip. I am dreading it. In fact, dread doesn't even begin to cut it. I am loathing the thought of doing this. I know the end result will be two beautiful baby girls and that my risk of losing either or both of them comes down to just about 0% when intensive monitoring begins.

But that doesn't keep me from missing Todd and Devin. I think nights will be the hardest -- when the three of us usually have dinner together or play outside together. I will have a hard time when 7:30 rolls around and I should be giving Devin a bath and tucking him into bed. I'll be depressed when 9:30 or 10:00 rolls around and I know I should be going in to check on Devin (which is really just an excuse for me to coo all over him) and climbing in bed with Todd. I just hate the thought of being without them -- it hurts my heart to its very deepest core. Any mommy out there understands...

Thank you all for the prayers you've said for the babies thus far. They are doing great. I'd like to ask that you please continue to pray for them, but that you also pray for me, Todd and Devin. This is going to be a true test of our family mettle and I know I won't be able to survive my five weeks away from them without the help of good friends and divine intervention. I believe in God and and I believe God and I appreciate the prayers that you say on behalf of me and my family. In turn, I will pray for you too.

With a little luck, I'll be online quickly at the hospital. If something goes awry, though, I will have Todd post updates and messages here. I will have a direct line to my room, and I'll make sure that is posted, too. I have nothing more to do than talk on the phone, so please feel free to call.

Soon to be reporting from Methodist Hospital, the Medical Center, San Antonio, TX...

Erin

April 6, 2006

*Note: As of this morning, the photo of me pregnant with Devin has not been scanned and blogger.com is having some problems with photo uploads this morning, so you'll have to read below and get the visual tomorrow. I'm sorry. :)

You asked for it, you got it. Here are comparative photos of me during my pregnancy with Devin and this current pregnancy with the twins. I have even worn the same shirt so that no illusions are created and posed in the same position I did three years ago.

Side note: Yes, I am aware that the shirt makes me look like a gigantic peppermint, but it's one of the only things that still fits! Some might say that I look like a candy cane, but you have to be tall and thin to be a candy cane and I definitely don't qualify in that department. I'm much more of a peppermint -- short and round.

The photo of me wearing glasses is me yesterday, April 5, 2006, at 25 weeks and 3 days. The photos of me without glasses is me on July 10, 2003 at 37 weeks and 6 days.

Go ahead. Laugh. It's okay.

I saw Dr. Harden yesterday and what a mess it was! My first appointment in January had Todd and me sitting in the waiting room for over an hour waiting to see her. When we finally got in, she totally disarmed us by telling us that she does 80% of her own deliveries and that she tries not to keep patients waiting, but that the inevitable sometimes happens.

I'm glad she said that because yesterday was a lesson in patience.

My appointment was two-fold: To see the doctor as well as to have my gestational diabetes test (a test every pregnant woman gets between 25 and 28 weeks). The plan was simple and easy -- I was to go immediately to the lab, drink the wonderful beverage they provide (more later on that) and then head up to Dr. Harden's office for my appointment. At precisely one hour after I finished my drink, I was to return to the lab to have my blood drawn. Once all of that happened, I was free to go. Sounds easy...

So I get to the lab and they give me the drink. Imagine Orange Crush soda on steroids. This stuff is like the Jolt Cola of Orange drinks. Very sugary, very carbonated. You have to drink all eight ounces of it in less than five minutes (not easy) and within the hour, blood samples should indicate your tolerance or intolerance to sugar and decide if you could have gestational diabetes. If it comes back positive, there is another three-hour test that needs to be done.

So I chugged my drink (college was good for something...) and went down to Dr. H's office. I should have known there was a problem when there were like 15 women waiting in her waiting room.

I signed in and told the receptionist that I was due back at the lab at 11:14 (seriously -- they're that precise). She made a note and I had a seat.

And there I sat. And so did the rest of us. No one moved. No one was called back to the office, no one came out. No one.

A lady sitting near me got up to inquire about Dr. Harden's whereabouts and came back to report to the friend who was with her that Dr. Harden was on call the entire night before and was running late.

The woman seemed pretty irritated, but I just tried to put myself in Dr. H's shoes: Here is a professional who works very, very hard to be there personally for all of her patients. Because she works in a group (which I think is an enormous benefit), she's going to have "on call" times and some of those times will be very hectic. Yesterday was no exception and I just tried to be patient.

Around 11:10, I told the receptionist that I was due back at the lab and she said to just let her know when I would return. I went up, visited the vampire (ie - got my blood drawn) and was back down in Dr. Harden's office in less than five minutes. I let the receptionist know that I was back and sat down again. I called Todd to let him know how late I was running and asked if he could please pick up Devin (note: Todd had a 1/2 day off and Devin has to be picked up by noon).

This time, luckily, I only sat for ten or 15 minutes before I was called back. The usual stuff ensued: weight, blood pressure, battery of questions, etc.

I got into the room, answered a few more questions and then got undressed for my now-weekly cervix check. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Harden appeared and boy did she look tired. We spent some time talking about the babies and the hospitalization and she did the sonogram. All looked well with both babies, although they were moving so much it was hard to keep up with them. I told her that it's a no-win situation: I worry when they move and I worry when they don't move.

She checked my cervix (which is in great shape, apparently) and apologized again for being so late. I asked when she slept last and she said she'd been awake for nearly 36 hours. I told her that I couldn't believe that they would allow that to happen and she said, "Well, I won't be doing any delicate procedures today. I know my limits!"

With that, I was on my way. My original appointment was at 10:20, but I arrived at the lab at 10:05. By the time I got out of there, it was about 12:05. It was late, but like I said, I was trying to be patient.

As I checked out and pulled out my trusty calendar to book my next appointment, I looked down with horror: My appointment wasn't for April 5 at 10:20, it was for April 6 at 10:20!

I asked the receptionist and sure enough, it was there on her computer too: I had come on the wrong date. Through all of the overbooking and running late, they still worked me in and never said a word about my being there 24 hours early.

Go ahead. Laugh. It's okay.

March 31, 2006

I have a very interesting "comment" on yesterday's post -- it seems that my good friend, Karen Blake, wants to see photos of me at this rather large state-of-the-game. Hah!

Actually, though, I think it might be funny to put a side-by-side comparison of photos of me up on this blog. I have a photo of myself the day I went in to have Devin at 38 weeks. I'll take another, similar photo of my belly now at 24 weeks with twins and let you all see the real comparison. The only real difference will be the amount of grey in my hair!

Stay tuned...the photo of me pregnant with Devin is actually a printed photo (something you rarely see these days!), so I'll have to get it scanned. Our scanner bit the dust years ago. I'll get Todd to take a photo of me this weekend and, with a little luck, I'll get the two pictures posted on Monday!

Have a great weekend. Stay safe.

E

March 30, 2006

Yesterday was the day o' doctor's appointments: Dr. Higby at 8:15 and Dr. Harden at 10:15. Todd went with me to both and we ended up getting to spend half a day together -- ALONE! What a treat, even if I did spend a lot of it sitting on a table with the hubby in a chair next to me...

Both appointments went well. Dr. Higby appointments are always more exciting in that we get the details on both girls. We did a quick measurement of my belly and I am measuring at about 35 weeks. Remember: my 6 lb, 14 oz, 19 inch single-birth son was born at 38 weeks. That ought to give you an idea of my size. If the word "Whale" came to mind, you're right on target.

Again, the girls are looking great. Good movement (we got to see Grace yawn, which is no big deal in real life, but when you see it from inside your uterus, it's pretty cool!), good blood flow, good sizes and weights.

Faith: 1 lb, 7 oz, measuring at 24 weeks and 1 day
Grace: 1 lb, 8 oz, measuring at 24 weeks and 2 days

(At the time of the appointment, I was 24 weeks and 3 days)

We talked with Dr. Higby about the hospital and the probability of an "urgent" c-section (where they will do one quickly, but I'll have enough time to call Todd, have an epidural and be awake for the whole thing) vs. an "emergent" c-section (where I'll be knocked cold and Todd will get a phone call that says, "Congratulations, Dad!"). According to Dr. H, either can happen and it will more likely be one of the above vs. scheduled. There's just no way to know, but at least there is a chance that Todd will be there. It stresses me out to think he may not be there...

We left Dr. Higby's office and had some time to kill, so we decided to go over to the Lactation Place and buy the support girdle that Dr. Higby had been hounding me to wear.

Oh my Lord...I am actually wearing the thing pictured at the top of this page.

Todd and I were nearly in hysterics as I was tying it on! It's made from just about the strongest elastic you can imagine and I nearly sling-shot myself across the room trying to get it on. I managed to get it on backwards and inside out before I ever actually got it on correctly.

But, lo and behold, if the darn thing doesn't actually work! My back aches significantly less and I have a lot less strain on my hips! Thankfully, the thing is pretty well concealed beneath my clothing and if I weren't such a self-deprecating person, no one would ever know it was present. But since I can't keep my mouth shut, you all get the joys of knowing about my supportive undergarments.

After we bought "the contraption" (as it has come to be known in our house), we headed over to Dr. Harden's office. The last time I had an appointment, I saw the nurse practitioner, so we had four weeks of catching up to do.

We talked about the visit we had with the neonatologist at Methodist Hospital and told Dr. Harden that we'd decided on April 17 as our admit date.

We discussed the very bizarre Braxton-Hicks contractions I've been having (BH contractions are contractions that don't dilate your cervix, but that do cause a lot of pressure on your uterus from time to time. They are basically harmless.) that are localized to only one quadrant of my belly! She didn't seem alarmed by the whole thing, but did check my cervix to make sure I wasn't dilating. Nope -- I'm still as closed up as Fort Knox, which is good news.

I also had a Fetal Nectin test done. I had never heard this combination of words in my entire pregnancy (or last pregnancy), but apparently it's an indicator of whether or not you'll go into labor in the next two weeks. It's a pretty unreliable indicator, though. Check out the statistics...

If negative: 96% chance that you WON'T go into labor in the next 14 days
If positive: 50/50% chance that you WILL go into labor in the next 14 days

WHAT? Does this make sense to anyone? If it does, will you explain it to me? I realize that this is just something to rule out pre-term labor, but it seems that it's pretty ridiculous if it comes back positive. Anyway, it had me laughing, but I guess it means something to Dr. Harden...otherwise she wouldn't test for it. I guess. :)

We also talked about our 27-week decision. She asked, "Does this mean that if you go into pre-term labor or we sense some distress in the babies during one of your visits, you don't want to intervene?"

Boy, am I glad she asked that question, because she's got it all wrong.

"No," we told her, "We would want to intervene if there was any sort of indication of distress or pre-term labor. We just don't want to do intensive, 24/7 monitoring until we hit 27 weeks on April 17."

I am so glad we have that cleared up. I can't imagine sitting there in either Dr. Higby or Dr. Harden's offices and seeing my girls struggling to live, but not doing anything about it. It makes me shudder...

Anyway, that's the long and the short of my two appointments. I see Dr. Harden again next week, so I'll have more to say then, if not sooner.

Until then, thanks for reading.

Blessings,
E

March 20, 2006

Last week brought my usual every-two-weeks doctors' appointments, but I haven't been able to write about them until now.

Thankfully, there's nothing much to write! I saw Dr. Higby on Thursday and we had our marathon ultrasound (this one was the shortest of them all, though, at 45 minutes). The babies are both looking good, although they're moving an awful lot. More than I am comfortable with, really. The less they move, the less chance of one of them tugging too hard on an umbilical cord!

Baby A (Faith) is measuring 1 lb. 1 oz. and Baby B (Grace) is measuring 1 lb. even. Perfect -- the less discrepancy in their weight, the better our chances are for escaping TTTS.

Both girls are tracking along, too, in relation to gestation. Essentially, I have two regular-sized babies growing inside me. Scary. I'm huge. I'm easily as big as I was when I was 8.5 months pregnant with Devin. YIKES.

My appointment with Dr. Harden was on Friday. She was out, so I saw the nurse-practitioner. Just a quick ultrasound and an update on my weight (I'm finally gaining!) and stats. I was out of there in no time. No muss, no fuss.

My appointment with Dr. Higby did afford me the opportunity to ask a number of questions that have been weighing on my mind, especially since my "unfortunate incarceration" with the flu two weeks ago.

First, I wanted to know if I was going to have to be stuck with an IV in my hand the whole time I'm there. Now I understand why I needed it for the dehydration issue, but I couldn't imagine why I would need it if all I were there to do was be monitored.

Still, a few women on my Mo/Mo support group page mentioned that they had Hep-Locks (the port in your hand in which the IV plugs in) for the duration of their stays. Although it's not like being tethered to your bed with an actual IV, it's still no fun to have a two-inch needle in your hand.

Luckily, Dr. Higby assured me that unless I need an IV for something like fluids or IV drugs, they won't keep an IV or a Hep-Lock in me. Whew! That was my biggest concern. It's hard to even wash your face or brush your teeth with one of those in!

He also assured me that I would be able to wear my own clothes and not the hospital gowns (Old Navy here I come for a new set of cotton boxer shorts!) and that I can eat whatever I want, barring that I don't develop diabetes. There is no indication that I will develop gestational diabetes, so I'm looking forward to Todd sneaking some contraband in for me.

Additionally, during the times that I am not being monitored (I'll be given monitoring sessions three times a day at first), I can do whatever I want. Take a walk, take a long, hot shower, etc. He even mentioned that Dr. Harden may be willing to give me a pass or two giving me "temporary parole" to leave the hospital for an hour or two. You have no idea how excited that makes me. Sadly.

The monitoring sessions will be the most interesting part of my stay, though. Technically, each one should last an hour, should all go well. They will chart both babies' heart rates and monitor for any sort of contractions. If all goes well for 60 minutes, then I'm free to move about the cabin ... er ... hospital room.

But, if they start to see decelerations in one or both babies' heart rates, then they'll continue to monitor past the one hour mark. Some decelerations are normal, but if they happen consistently or the heartrates stay up or down for long periods of time, then it could be time for an emergency c-section.

Nurses come in, get the IV started and I'm out the door. Apparently, the record for my doctor is eight minutes. That's EIGHT minutes from the time they say, "We need to take the babies," to the time the girls are in their warmers. Eight minutes. That's pretty impressive, considering everything that has to happen to get me to the operating room.

1. IV and sedate me
2. Roll me down to the OR
3. Get me hooked up to all of the machines
4. Slice me open
5. Untangle all of the cords (one set of Mo/Mo twins took over 30 minutes to untangle!)
6. Get Faith out
7. Get Grace out

I'm no math genius, but that's about one step per minute. I could be that person being run down the hall with doctors yelling, "MOVE!" just like on my favorite TV show, "ER." And I am just positive that "ER" is just like real-life hospitals. :)

Now please don't get me wrong. I would prefer my children never go into distress and that this never happens to me. I'll be out cold, anyway, so I won't know the difference. But I would definitely prefer that May 21 rolls around and my doctors say, "Well, Erin, you've gotten to 32 weeks! Your husband is here and we're ready to go. What do you say we have these babies?"

So, I'm feeling a little better about my pending stay. I'm still not thrilled with the idea, but when Dr. Higby invited me to just "move on in" and make myself comfortable, I realized that no one thinks this is some sort of party. They all understand that this is incredibly hard on anyone -- especially a devoted mom and wife -- and they will do their best to make me feel comfortable.

I guess I can't ask for more than that.

Updates as I get 'em.

Peace.

March 9, 2006

Well here's a post I wasn't expecting to place. Guess where I just came from?

The beach? No...I wish!

An ultrasound appointment? No...believe it or not.

My front yard where I was talking over the hedges with my fellow "Desperate Houswives?"...no, but a good guess.

The hospital?

Ding! Ding! Ding! You win the prize.

Ugh -- it's been a week.

I woke up Monday morning feeling awful. I figured it was just the awful feeling I usually battle (you know, 21 weeks pregnant with twins) combined with a poor night's sleep. I got up, went to work and sat miserably at my desk.

I went home to get some work done (I can't get anything done in my office - I have to go home to do it. But that's another story for another time...) and ended up on the couch, totally wiped out and feeling worse by the minute.

Todd called me and said, "We're having computer issues and I have no desk, phone or machine. I'm coming home for lunch to kill some time. Want me to pick up Devin from school?"

Oh yes, please. PLEASE. I promptly changed into my jammmies.

Devin and Todd got home and I hugged them both briefly on my way to the bathroom to puke.

And that kicked off a long chain of events. Puking. More puking. A little more puking. A nap. Puke. Moan quietly from the bedroom. Puke. Dry heave. Go to bed.

I woke up on Tuesday morning and stood up. A mad dash to the bathroom resulted in more puking. Where was this stuff coming from? I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in 24 hours.

Then it hit me: I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in 24 hours. Uh oh.

The contractions started. This was not good. So I called my doctor and they said, "To the hospital with you!"

So I called Todd (who was at work) and told him that I was going to Methodist. He suggested that he come home and get me but he works only blocks from the Medical Center where the hospital is. I told him to just meet me there in the Antepartum department -- I'd drive myself.

So I did and we met right where we said we would. The orders were faxed over from Dr. Harden's office and I was placed in room 154 and immediately plucked with an IV. Monitors were slapped to my tummy to watch for heartrates and contractions.

Now when I was pregnant with Devin, I got dehydrated and was in the hospital for an afternoon, so when the nurse started talking about what I'd like for dinner that night, I had to stop and say, "Wait a second...how long will I be here?"

"Well, at least tonight."

Gulp.

By this time, Todd had to leave to pick up Devin so I called and said, "At some point tonight, I'm going to need you to bring me some things. I'm not coming home!"

I spent the rest of the day being pumped full of fluids. When after two full bags of saline, I still hadn't peed, there became a little bit of concern and I was tested for a bladder infection. Aren't you all so glad to hear about this?

Finally, I had to go to the bathroom. By my calculations, it had been more than 18 hours. Pretty severe, apparently.

But it seemed to be working and I spent countless hours watching TV and napping. All in all, it was a pretty comfortable stay, save the darn IV. I hope to God I don't have one of those when I'm being monitored. You can't do anything with one of those in your hand! I barely got my face washed!

Todd and Devin came in around 7:00 to visit and bring me my essentials -- contacts case and solution, toothbrush, toothpaste. Devin let me borrow one of his stuffed animals so I wouldn't miss the cat too much.

They had to leave around 7:40 to get D to bed and I cried when they left. I felt so lonely and all I wanted to do was be at home in my own bed. I thought I'd never fall asleep. It wasn't the most relaxing night of my life, to say the least.

The next morning Dr. Harden came in to see me. I was negative for a bladder infection and was free to go after I finished up the bag of saline. She also arranged for one of the on-call neonatologists to come in and talk with Todd and me about viability and lifelong morbidity.

Dr. Molina (the neonatologist)arrived around 9:00 a.m. and Todd shortly thereafter. She gave us a lot of good information and we discussed what we thought was right for monitoring and possibly intervening for the twins. It wasn't easy. Todd and I got within a week of one another, but came to an impasse. He wanted 26 weeks, I wanted 27 weeks. We argued and cried and finally decided on 27 weeks. April 17 -- the day after Easter. It's set. I hope we're right.

I was monitored a little more and given my discharge papers. A little old gentleman from the Blue Bird Society (candy stripers, from what I can gather) came to my room with a wheelchair to take me to my car. I took one look at him and thought, "I should be wheeling YOU around!" He was a kind and sweet man, though. And pretty strong to be pushing me and my two girls around.

He wheeled me to the front desk where my parking was validated, to the garage, to the elevators and up to the 3rd floor. From there, he helped me from the wheelchair and held me by the crook of my arm while I walked to my car. He even waited to see that it started for me.

Now that's service!

And with that, I drove myself home! Todd's parents came to stay with Devin and I arrived home to lots of hugs from the three of them. Oh boy, did it feel good to be home.

I'm at work today, feeling much better. Co-workers keep bringing me bottles of water, so I don't think dehydration will be a problem again for awhile.

Ahhh...the life that is Erin.

Much love to all...

March 6, 2006

Wow -- what a consistent number of posts from me. How exciting. I hope I can keep it up, but I'm not sure I will always have such a large amount of news to share. I'll try...

A couple of weeks ago, Monsignor Fater - the Pastor and sole priest of our church -- called me at home. I was expecting a call from our Youth Minister, so I was surprised when I heard him say, "Erin -- it's Father Doug!"

He got right to the point: He said that he was holding our family and our babies in prayer every day and asked if he could perform the Sacrament, the Anointing of the Sick, on me (and subsequently the girls) at one of the Teen Masses.

I was blown away. The Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick is a beautiful and powerful sacrament, but Todd and I never even thought to have it performed. It really touched both of our hearts that with the large parish Father Fater has to lead, he still remembered us specifically and asked if he could anoint me. We enthusiastically said yes, of course.

So last night we attended 5:30 Mass where Deacon Jerry did a great Homily (sermon) on Lent. He likened it to a "time out" in sports -- a time to take a break, step back, regroup and reevaluate your strategy. It made a lot of sense, but, again, Deacon Jerry usually does. He's an excellent speaker.

After the Homily, Monsignor stood up and talked about life: about the sanctity of it and how it is our job to always respect it. He spoke of three older parishioners who are currently battling cancer and of his young niece who is struggling to survive breast cancer.

But then he went into how life extends past those we see every day and that we always need to include the unborn.

He went on to introduce me, "Our beloved Erin," (oh boy, as if I need a bigger head) and talk about our situation. He didn't mention Mo/Mo twins specifically, rather he just said that our twins are in peril and that they need lots of prayers.

He invited Todd and I up to the altar (oh the relief that Todd would go with me -- I was dreading going up there alone!) where he introduced the Sacrament with the Chrism, or holy oil.

He asked the congregation to raise their hands over us in prayer as he anointed both my forehead and hands with the Chrism.

Then he asked the congregation to extend their arms outward, like a hug, to embrace us as he spoke another prayer about combining our sufferings with the sufferings of Jesus.

It was a most overwhelming experience. I never cried. I never even felt like crying. Instead, I stood in front of 500 people and let their love and support wash over me. I felt the healing power of prayer, faith, belief and community enter my heart and peace filled my soul. It was incredible.

I still don't know if the babies will be okay (I have a good feeling they will be, though), but I do know that The Pruetz family will go on no matter what happens. We are so surrounded by love and support that no one will let us fall. We are going to be okay. I can say that without a doubt.

The real miracle showed itself, though, after Mass. We couldn't even leave the pew -- dozens of people approached us to give us their prayers. A good 1/3 of those people were complete strangers. Others were friends, acquaintances and loved ones affirming their prayers and support for us.

In one instance, a woman approached me and said, "I'm not sure if you remember me, but you were my prayer partner on my ACTS retreat," (ACTS it the retreat movement that Todd and I have been involved in for nearly four years). She went on to tell me that the prayer candle I gave her on her retreat sits in her living room and every night she lights it and prays for me.

I couldn't help but just lose it. I was so overwhelmed by this gesture. I had not seen this woman since her retreat and yet she is taking the time not only to pray for our girls, but to lift my family and me up in one of the most special of ways. I told her over and over again that I loved her. What else could I have said?

Another woman walked up to me and said, "I was on bed rest for four months with my first child and my second was born at 28 weeks. St. Gerard and St. Jude were my Saints during these times and they allowed me two beautiful and healthy kids. I am starting novenas (nine day prayers) to them for your twins tonight."

Again, tears flowed. This woman as a perfect stranger (her name, I later asked, is Bertha) and yet she feels compelled to pray not one but two novenas for the Pruetz twins. I hugged and hugged and hugged her. I didn't know what else to say but "Thank you. No words can express my gratitude."

Everyday miracles happen all around us. I've seen more and more of them since the Mo/Mo diagnosis. Maybe they're happening more often or maybe I'm just finally seeing them. Either way, my life is so full right now. The love of my friends, my family and my community have been nothing short of a miracle and the Pruetz family will feel, for the rest of our lives, as though we were truly lifted up in the hardest times of our lives.

If you're reading this, you're a member of this group. Thank you. There are no other words, but please know that you are never far from our hearts and that our prayers of thanks go out each day for every single one of you.

Peace -- so, so much of it.

Erin

March 2, 2006

This morning was our perinatologist appointment with Dr. Higby. Great news! The babies are doing very, very well.

Faith (Baby A) is measuring 20 weeks and 4 days while Grace (Baby B) is also measuring 20 weeks and 4 days. We couldn't be more excited because, as of today, I am 20 weeks and 4 days! They're right on track! (Betcha didn't see THAT coming!)

Faith weighs 13 oz and Grace weighs 14 oz. The discrepancy in weight isn't enough to worry about, but if they get more than 20% apart, then we start to look for other signs of TTTS. As of now, though, they're doing well. Good heartrates, good bloodflow, very little (if any) cord compression.

We got a 3-D image of the tangled mess of umblical cords. I'm going to see if Todd can scan it. You won't be able to believe it until you see it. The only thing I can liken it to is that collection of rubber bands that you have balled up in your office drawer. Only with less organization.

The cords are, of course, a cause for concern, but there is nothing we can do about them. We just have to wait and see. The girls could be alive and well until they are born or be gone in two hours. It's just the reality of the situation.

Looks like we're sticking with the April 17 date for hospital entry. That's 27 weeks, 1 day (I'm getting a one day reprieve so I can spend Easter with the fam). Todd and I will meet with one of the hospital's on-call Neonatologists next Thursday to talk more about lifelong morbidity and other complications that come with each week before 32 weeks.

*A note on the names. ZZ asked me this question and I thought it was worth posting.

If Baby A is Faith and Baby B is Grace, what happens if they switch places (they measure them by who is closest to the cervix)?

Well, here's what happens if they switch places: They switch names. If I can't tell these girls apart outside the womb, how the heck am I supposed to tell them apart INSIDE the womb? I doubt they will be suffer any long-term mental anguish if they switch places and Faith becomes Grace and Grace becomes Faith. Whomever is born Baby A will be Faith and whomever is born Baby B will be Grace.

Can you believe we have to think about this stuff?

Thank you all for your prayers, thoughts, cards, well-wishes and positive energy. Every bit counts and every bit has helped.

Peace.

February 27, 2006

My little boy spent is first night away from home without Mommy or Daddy this weekend.

The three of us met Todd's parents in Luling (you don't know where Luling is? Where have you been? It's about 60 miles east of San Antonio) where we gave them our little bear and all of his accoutrements on Saturday morning. We stood and watched as the green minivan drove off toward Yoakum, taking Devin off to a fun-filled weekend with Grandma and Grandpa.

It went well. Maybe a little too well. He didn't miss us at all! Now he talked a LOT on the phone with us on Saturday night and told us he loved us and missed us, but apparently, not even a tear was shed in missing dear ol' Mom or Dad. Bittersweet. He returned to us on Sunday, completely tired out. Apparently, he had lots and lots of fun!

It was a good trial, though. We know we'll need to rely a LOT on our family members once I check into Methodist Hospital and Resort (chort, chort...). So now we know that he'll do fine without us, whether we like it or not.

I had an appointment with my OB, Dr. Harden today. I mentioned to her that I have been having some contracts lately, although they are very mild and very sporadic.

YIKES! Don't tell your OB this kind of stuff unless you're ready for the wrath of God! Actually, she was very nice, but said in no uncertain terms that I have got to slow it down and take it easy. Easier said than done, there, Dr. H. But I'll see what I can do.

She did a cervix check (by the way, for those of you who don't have kids, you'll find when you or your wife does get pregnant, you'll be slinging around words like "cervix," "vagina," and "penis," like you are saying "meatball," or "dog") and found that I have not dialated any (thankfully), but that the cervix is softening (the pre-curser to dialting). Apparently, I'll be spending a lot more time on the couch. Well shucks...

I see Dr. Higby on Thursday for another marathon ultrasound. More updates then.

Love to all...

February 20, 2006

Okay -- let's talk names, shall we?

Originally, when we were only shocked by the fact that we were having one baby, we were going to have little Delaney Elizabeth or Maximillian (Max) Joseph as the latest addition to our family.

Then came December 9, 2005 when we saw the two heartbeats (recalling that moment still takes my breath away!) and that changed everything! Suddenly, we needed four names to fulfill our needs!

So they became Delaney Elizabeth and Tatum Marie or Liam Thomas and Connor Joseph. We dropped Maximillian because we didn't think it sounded right with any other boy name. How can you have one twin named Max and have any other name live up to it? Unless we named Baby B "Rex" or something of the like, we were going to have to give up on the name Max.

So there we were -- set with names! They were perfect, cute and gave just the sound we were looking for. And they all sounded pretty good with "Pruetz" -- not any easy task with such an unusual and highly mispronounced last name.

But then the bomb dropped: You have may have a really high-risk pregnancy on your hands.

And then the second bomb: You do have a really high-risk pregnancy on your hands.

Well this changed everything -- AGAIN. Suddenly we were staring down the barrel of a gun. By this time, we knew we were having girls and they were possibly slipping away without our ever knowing it.

Our community and our faith jumped more to the forefront of our lives than it had ever been. We began (and still are) praying fervently, without fail, and cherished those who did the same. Everyone we knew became a prayer warrior for us and we felt, and continue to feel, more blessed than we've ever felt before.

But that made us think about the names. Delaney and Tatum are adorable names -- we just loved them. But did they really speak to us? In light of the situation, should we consider something else -- something that really captured who these girls are?

So then it happened: Faith and Hope. It's what was going to be needed to get these girls here -- a lot of faith and hope on our parts and the parts of all of our community. They seemed perfect.

But they weren't. Something kept me from telling everyone that we had named our girls. Maybe it seemed too cliche or maybe it was because there is a TV show named, "Faith and Hope." Regardless, it just didn't seem right.

So one day, Todd and I were talking and I said, "I'm just not sold on Faith and Hope as names. I don't know why." He agreed and we talked about it.

Then it hit us: Grace. That's what we're missing! We need our faith and we need God's grace to get these girls here! Of course, we will always have hope, but hope isn't accomplished without faith and the grace of the Lord is what we're counting on!

So I'm happy to announce, with no apprehension at all, that our two little girls will proudly bear the names Faith Elizabeth and Grace Marie.

February 16, 2006

I have two (count 'em TWO) appointments this week: Monday I saw my OB, Dr. Harden and on Tuesday I saw my perinatologist, Dr. Higby. Here's how it went (because I know you're all hanging on my every word, wondering anxiously just how each of my doctor's appointment went).

Dr. Harden
I was lucky that ZZ went with me when Todd couldn't. Remember, Dr. H delivered Z's twins, Kaelin and Brendan and she came very highly recommended by Z, among a number of others.

This time, I did not wait for an hour for her, but was brought in within minutes! Woo hoo!

Vitals were taken (I gained weight!) and I was plopped in a room. Dr. H walked in shortly after, took at look at my chart, rolled her little doctor chair over to me and said,

"I know Dr. Higby spoke to you about the situation, how critical it is and how little we can do. We need to talk about when you'll go into the hospital. I wouldn't go past 26 weeks."

This put a lump in my throat -- I was thinking more like 28 or 29 weeks, just because I'm not sure I believe the girls should be born that early. We discussed mortality and morbidity rates (NOT something you want to talk about regarding your children, by the way) and told us that the best course of action would be to talk to Dr. Ortiz, the chief neo-natologist at Methodist (where I'll deliver) so he could give us better insight into what to do and when to do it.

I was crying a little and she asked me, "Do you believe in a higher power?" I said, "Definitely" and ZZ quipped, "She's an ACTS sister." ACTS is the women's retreat movement that I've been a part of for nearly four years now. Apparently, Dr. Harden is a sister, too!

She started to quote scripture, telling me to walk with the Word, let my faith be my guide and to be stronger in Christ than I have ever been. I couldn't believe it -- it was one of the best doctor's appointments I've ever had. I just felt so good that she was not only worried about my physical health, but my mental and spiritual health as well. I couldn't be happier.

We did a Level I ultrasound (Z called it the machine that they used on Moses) and saw two heartbeats. That's about all we could see, so we were dismissed.

Dr. Higby
After my awesome appointment with Dr. Harden, I was excited to see the girls on a better, Level II machine.

Again, we were whisked into the room very quickly and the ultrasound was started immediately. There they were, face-to-feet, facing one another, beating the heck out of one another. I couldn't believe I couldn't feel all that movement. I feel a kick here or there, but nothing like what's REALLY happening inside me!

The ultrasound lasted for two hours! It was so long because every time they went to make a measurement, someone's foot would be in the way, an arm would cross into the photo etc.

We got to see Baby A a few times in 3-D. Amazing. I hope I make it to where we can do 3-D and you can really see faces and features. I can't wait!

Dr. Higby came in and we talked about growth (both girls are doing well -- Baby A measured at 17w, 4d and Baby B measured at 17w 5d. At the time of the sonogram, I was 18w, 2d, so they're right on track!), blood flow (all looked well), heart rates (again, everything seemed good) and a lot of other stuff.

Then we talked about the hospital. When to go in, what we'll do, etc. We're looking at 27 weeks, which would be on April 16 -- Easter Sunday. He told us he'd give us one day and let us go in on Monday, April 17. :)

It's not finalized yet - we still need to talk to Dr. Ortiz and Monsignor Fater to get a little more insight into 26 weeks vs. 27 weeks vs. 28 weeks, etc... But I'm guessing it will be around then.

So what does this mean to me? Well, a lot. If I go in at 27 weeks and everything goes well, I'll be there for five weeks, until 32, when Dr. Harden will deliver the babies. After 32 weeks, the risks inside the womb are greater than the risks outside the womb. Can you believe it?

So what do I do with my time in the hospital? Well, that's where you come in! Expect a lot of phone calls and emails (if I can get my hands on a good laptop -- mine ranks up there with Dr. Harden's ultrasound machine in age) from me. I don't know what I will do with all that time! Five weeks of sitting in bed. Now I like my relaxation, but I'm pretty sure doing nothing will get old in a matter of hours.

I'll take all sorts of suggestions on things to do to pass the time. Anything at all. Throw 'em out there. :)

All in all, life is good. I’m doing well (with some “moments” to speak of), the girls are doing well, Todd is doing well and Devin is a devil-in-disguise. I just love it.

I'll keep you posted. Any news can be found here!

Blessings.

February 10, 2006

Happy Birthday, Vanessa! You had one month of still being 29 while I was already 30, but it's all over now! Face it sister...we're old.

Well, it's been a week since the Mo/Mo diagnosis and I thought I should at least post something to let everyone know that I am still functioning.

I won't lie; it's been a hard week. Friday the 3rd was awful as I spent the whole day worrying about my two little girls. Todd took the day off and picked up Devin and I left work around 10:30, so at least I got some extra family time with my favorite boys.

Saturday was hard, too, as I didn't have work to keep my mind off of things and I had lots of time to think, think, think. Sunday was awful -- I knew it would be. Mass is always emotional for me for the zillion reasons I love being Catholic, but, of course, since God works in such a way that He's always talking to you, always giving you what you need when you need it, this Mass was especially hard because the first reading was from Job, talking all about his trials and tests and how his faith in the Lord never ceased.

It didn't take long for me to start crying. And once it started, it hardly stopped. By the time Communion rolled around (the high point of the Mass for just about every Catholic out there), I was a basket case. I was in such outward disrepair that a very nice man two rows behind me sent Kleenex up to me. What an angel.

It didn't help, either, that I had a large community of men and women who wanted to stop and hug me on their way back from the altar, giving me signs of blessings and whispers of prayers. I was overwhelmed by the love that I received, but it also just made me break down that much more.

As the week wore on, things got a little better. This week was our yearly church mission, where a visiting, Redemptorist priest (our pastor is a Redemptorist, so go figure) comes to speak each night for four nights on a number of different topics -- forgiveness, healing, faith, etc. Well, needless to say, each night spoke to me in a different way and by the time I got home, I was emotionally drained.

Now don't get me wrong -- all of these cathartic moments have led to a somewhat more stable Erin. I am seeing things more clearly now and am starting to get a hold of just what it is I need to do.

The truth is, between now and early May, there just isn't much that can be done. It's just a wait-and-see game. All we can do is pray that the girls don't twist and turn so much that they cause their already entwined umbilical cords to compress and cut off circulation to one another.

Of course, once we hit 26 weeks, then the hard part begins. If we make it that far, we have to make the decision as to when I am admitted into the hospital for 24/7 monitoring.

I grapple with this a lot. 26 weeks is just around the time that a baby can survive outside the mother. But it's not without its complications. A 26-weeker has a 60% chance of survival and a 30% chance of major life-long illnesses. So...the question of the week is, "Does just because a baby can be born at 26 weeks, mean he or she should be born at 26 weeks?"

I think my answer is, "No." I just don't think I can risk subjecting my children to lives of pain and suffering just because I said, "Well...I think they should be born.

Of course, there are inherent risks here. What if I wait until 30 weeks and they die at 29 weeks. Will I ever forgive myself? Can I live with my decision, if it results in death for both of the girls?

It's not an easy predicament to be in. But here is the good news: Statistically speaking, none of you will ever have this happen or ever know anyone else that this will happen to. Apparently, it's a one in 15.5 million chance of conceiving Mo/Mo twins.

As Sylvia put it, "Way to over-achieve, Erin!"

Your love, emails, prayers and support have been something that is just hard explain. I've never felt more guided, more touched or more blessed. It's true that when God closes a door, He opens a window. This window is a huge one for me, where I am being allowed to see the most beautiful of the blessings the Lord has to offer and these blessings are all coming in the form of friends and family. I just couldn't have a better life, despite the possibility of a huge loss.

Thank you to all of you. You are loved by the Pruetz family just as you are loving us. May He keep you and everyone you know in the palm of His hand the way He is holding us.

Peace.

Februrary 3, 2006

Here is the post we've all been waiting for: What was the diagnosis of the Pruetz twins?

Well, I won't lie -- it's not good. The diagnosis is Mo/Mo, which means that the girls (yes, girls!) are in one amniotic sac, sharing one placenta. The risks are high -- about as high as you can get with a twin pregnancy. The only higher risk possible would be Mo/Mo triplets, quadruplets, etc...

So here is what Mo/Mo means:

1. Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS): Where one twin gets over-nourished from the shared placenta and the other twin gets undernourished. This is the lowest risk.
2. Cord Entanglement: Where their umbilical cords become entangled around one another and all it takes is one of them to make a sharp movement. As soon as they do, they compress the cord (there is already some cord compression) and cut off blood supplies to both of them. Death is imminent.

There is nothing we can do now, as even if we saw entanglement happening, the only cure is to do a c-section and they are too young to survive outside the womb. We have to wait until 26 weeks (I'm currently 16 weeks and gestation is 40 weeks). 26 weeks it the magic number, as that is when a baby is viable outside the womb. 26 weeks still only carries around a 30% chance of survival.

Then it becomes our call as to what we would like to do. As soon as we say we're ready, I'll be placed in the hospital for 24/7 monitoring and will remain there until one of two things happen: the twins show signs of distress or I reach 32 weeks.

Our doctor was honest with us (which I really appreciate -- this is not a time for sugar-coating) in telling us that this is "Not good - not good at all. If you are going to have twins, this is definitely the situation you want the least." Apparently, it's so rare that the average doctor won't see a set of Mo/Mo twins in his or her entire career. It's about 1 in 60,000 identical twin births. Identical twins are 1 in 258 births.

The truth is, all hope is not lost, but we stand a higher risk of losing both babies than keeping one or both. It's just that critical.

I'm doing okay. I cried a lot of tears upon our exit from the doctor's office and while I managed to keep it together at a meeting today, I lost it in my boss' office when I told her the news. Thankfully, she was warm, supportive and said all of the right things.

Todd is doing about the same. He's my rock, as he always has been, and is being so strong for all of us. But I know he's hurting inside, especially since he's always wanted girls. Please keep him in your prayers.

It's easier for me to type about this situation than it is for me to talk about it, so please, if you'd like to talk, email me. It's not that I wouldn't love to hear the sound of your voice and have a conversation with you, but I just can't cry anymore. I don't think I have any tears left!

If you pray, your prayers are appreciated. If you believe in cosmic energy, then good vibes are appreciated. Whatever you can spare, we'll take it.

Thank you all for your support and love. Todd and I are already (less than 24 hours post diagnosis!) overwhelmed by the incredible outpouring of friendship we've received. We're surrounded by angels and are so blessed.

Peace.