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