“… Less than one year prior I was wheeled onto the maternity floor, clenching my empty belly, tears streaming down my face. I was placed in a room, isolated from the other mothers as I counted down the minutes to my life saving surgery. Now, in the same maternity ward, a healthy baby was placed in each arm before my husband wheeled us past that room into the suite next door. Not yet one year later, one room over, here we are…”
On the morning of January 8th, 2023 we arrived at labour and deliver.
Throughout December my OB had warned that I wouldn’t make it past Christmas. Most people who’s birthday falls around the Christmas season seem to resent it. When trying to conceive, we were careful to avoid a Christmas baby. Despite all we had endured, we still held stubborn to the expectation that life (and birth) could be planned out. Twins, a curve ball we never would have imagined, now looked like they just might arrive in time for Christmas morning. Twins are 6x more likely than singltons to be born premee, and most twins arrive before 36 weeks. My hospital bag sat ready in the front hall, and came with us to Christmas celebrations and trips out of town.
Despite our OB’s predictions, the boys seemed perfectly content to stay put well past Christmas and into the first of week of January. A birth on nature’s timeline was no longer an option. Unlike a singleton pregnancy, it is not advisable to go beyond 38 weeks (full term for twins) for risk of serious complications or stillbirth. We would need to be induced, which came with its own risks that would need to be closely monitored. Our OB penciled us in for January 8, not a day past 38 weeks.
One of the luxuries of a twin birth is that, if you need to schedule an induction, you might as well schedule a bit of pampering the day before. My very close friend (and professional stylist) primped and fussed my hair into a beautiful Madonna wave that lasted through the night, through delivery, through next day discharge and still looked gorgeous the day after that. Perhaps I’ll put that in the google review.
Upon arrival we were taken to an incredibly spacious and, most wonderfully, private labouring room. I didn’t know how long we’d be waiting on the boys arrival. Hours? Perhaps a day? Thankfully there was a cozy nook, complete with a fold out bed, for my husband to camp out next to me. Pintrest had also been consulted in crafting our essential packing list. Though it wasn’t on anyone else’s list, we felt video games and controllers were a practical must-have to pass the time. We’d come prepared for the long haul.
We’d also brought a couple dozen fresh Krispy Kream donuts for the morning and evening staff to enjoy. I wasn’t above bribery for better care. When you’re pregnant, people love to pass down the horror stories they were subjected to when they were pregnant. Some may even use this as a postponed debriefing of their own trauma. Case in point, we stopped on our way to the hospital to meet up with a close friend. As I heaved myself back into the passenger seat to continue our journey to the hospital, he spontaneously warned me to make sure the doctor checked that the incision site was completely frozen, in the event of an emergency C section, before the doctor started slicing. Good intentions, horrific timing. Being sliced up drug free wasn’t on my list of concerns (till then anyways), my worry was a last minute switch up of our delivery doctor. I was firm that this was not going to happen to me, and I was ready to raise hell if needed. Luckily my OB arrived as planned. She was the most incredibly thoughtful and attentive doctor throughout my pregnancy. I had full trust in her skill to deliver my boys safely.
My attending nurse informed me that we wouldn’t have to wait long, I was already half-way dilated at arrival. Strangely, I didn’t feel any of my contractions. What I could feel was the reassuring but restricted shifting of baby S, while baby B remained wedged and at the ready. I had wanted it to be a surprise whether baby S or baby B emerged first, a photo finish after all the tumbling and swapping of my final months. Being hooked up to all mess of tangled equipment, 3 heart monitors and nursing checks every 15 minute, took out all the mystery. Baby B would be arriving first.
As the nurse predicted, we didn’t even have a chance to dip into our entertainment stash. Within an hour of the induction starting, I was bowled over by a strong, stabbing pain. Where the pain was coming from took me by surprise; I had not expected pain from there. I called out to my husband to please help me. He held my back and then each hand as I repositioned, squatting on the bed. My OB was quickly summoned. After breaking my water she assessed our progress. “I feel hair” she proclaimed smiling up at me. Honestly, I never want to hear that from someone down there again.
Everything about my birth journey was completely different than had been expected. I had been planning for a single daughter, born in my home, by a midwife, in summer. Now I was moments away from having my twin sons, in a hospital operating room, surrounded by three complete medical teams, just after Christmas.
Approximately 635p I laid staring up at the OR ceiling, a sea of yellow donned and masked doctors and nurses filled my peripheral. More than a dozen people puttered around me, all charged with the responsibility of keeping my sons and I alive. So overwhelmed with the flurry of activity, I hadn’t recognized my own husband seated next to me until I called out to him, panicked that he hadn’t made it in. My OB centered my attention to the task at hand, it was time to push. After the operatic drama we had endured leading up to this moment, my delivery was refreshingly uncomplicated. Baby B burst into the world 15 minutes later, flailing and screaming to the delight of his mother and wonder of his father. Baby B was whisked out the room under the attentive observation of his father, along with 1/3 of the medical team for an assessment. I had only a few moments to reflect on the state of my three children. One born, one in transition, and one waiting on the other side. Baby S arrived 15 minutes after his brother. My husband and baby B had returned just in time. In under 30 minutes of labour I had two beautiful, healthy boys weighing in at a respectable 6lb 8oz and 6lb 4oz.
We were all relocated to a private suite for the remainder of our stay. Less than one year prior I was wheeled onto the maternity floor, clenching my empty belly, tears streaming down my face. I was placed in a room, isolated from the other mothers as I counted down the minutes to my life saving surgery. Now, in the same maternity ward, a healthy baby was placed in each arm before my husband wheeled us past that room into the suite next door. Not yet one year later, one room over, here we are.
Remarkably, I had no stretch marks, no tearing and required no stitches. The Twins and I were discharged after the 24 hour minimum stay. I’d like to credit my timely turn around to checking off every Pintrest list of “how to have an easier labour”. I did the squats, drank the teas, preformed the stretches and ate the dates. However, I might have just been lucky. I was so thankful for the early discharge. Despite our intimate lodgings, we got very little sleep (and so it begins). There was a steady stream of medical staff every hour, each asking mostly what had already been asked by & answered to the staff member before them, and each concluding their visit with the same reductive statement “now get some sleep”. The boys required feeding every 2-3 hours. Latching is a challenge for most singleton moms, tandem was practically showing off. Baby B was quite alert since birth, frequently looking about and eager to feed. Baby S was content to sleep out the majority of our stay.
We were all packed and ready to travel home at the 24 hour mark. They were dressed in the cutest preemee hoodie and sweats from Papa and Nana, and tucked in safe to their car seats with blankets knitted by their Grandma. My husband pulled up the car to protect our little ones from the cold January day. We took a moment in the lobby to pray to our little girl, letting her know how deeply she is loved, and thanking her for the gift of her little brothers. We truly believe it was the hormonal surge from her that gave us our boys. We arrived home to a proud Grandma and curious kitty waiting to meet the new additions. Grandma had cleaned the home and thoughtfully prepared us a few weeks worth of food.
There was a influx of congratulations from family and friends. Everyone was so excited to see the twins! To celebrate the boy’s arrival, we hosted a Sip & See. Read more about that here.
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