Exactly one year ago today the complications of my pregnancy with the twins became very complicated. It was a traumatic experience and I am very thankful to be here today with two healthy babies. I have been thinking about it a lot lately, since it was exactly one year ago today.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It was the beginning of a very long bed rest and being two hours away from my children and family for the first time ever. The medical issues and the helicopter rides and the doctors and the list goes on…
I didn’t write through this period of time. I wish I had. So the following posts are my memories of that experience. It may not be exact in all the details, but it is the exact way I remember it and how I feel about it.
It will be in several posts. I was on bed rest for 6 long and lonely weeks. It was rough. I can’t go through it all at once again. So you will get the story in “bits & pieces.”
To read about when I first found out I was pregnant with twins you can find that post <here>.
Brad was cooking barbecue chicken on the grill. He made a straight path that he followed frequently; flip the chicken, through the back door and straight to the tv to check the football game. He stood with his arms crossed in a defensive stance in the doorway, ready to yell or cheer at the tv.
I tried to keep my eyes open as I sunk further into the recliner. They wouldn’t stay open no matter how hard I tried. I have never felt a tired like this except with my pregnancies. The sheer exhaustion and toll on my body from carrying twins was twice as much.
Collin, who just turned one, was hanging on my knees bawling. I couldn’t pick him up. I was not supposed to pick anything up. I rubbed his back the best I could to try to sooth him, but I think I fell asleep sometime in between there.
I woke up to a quiet house. The kids were napping and it must have been a lull in the game because Brad wasn’t yelling. That was the calm before the storm.
I came down the stairs slowly, waddling, holding the weight of my pregnant belly. “I need to go to the hospital right away,” I said.
“You’re kidding me,” Brad said. “Today is the first day of football. This is the first game.”
“We have to leave now,” I said, even though I couldn’t get any emotion or urgency into my tone. “I’m bleeding.” And from there I was on a mission and that mission was to stay calm and get to the ER.
I have never seen him move so fast except for the other two times when I went into labor. But this was record speed. It was September. I wasn’t due until December.
I clenched the steering wheel and drove as fast as I could. I had cramps, but I didn’t think I was having contractions.
“You need to slow down.”
“I need to get there NOW. I just feel it.”
I pressed down on the accelerator as another small wave of cramps spread across my stomach. “Somethings wrong. I just feel that I need to get there because something big is happening. I just feel it. I’m in trouble. This just isn’t right. It’s not bad now but I’m scared.”
I have to say that the ER was ready and on the ball. As soon as I said I was pregnant with twins and bleeding I was whisked away in a wheelchair and straight to Labor and Delivery. It is a route I know well, having had two other children at the same hospital.
I was moved to a hospital bed, which was also familiar, and IVs, monitors, and nurses surrounded me with a million questions. I tried to get comfortable against the cool white sheets.
The monitor said I was having contractions. Why do I never know this? I never knew it with my other two pregnancies either, not until it was really bad.
I don’t remember much after that. It must have been the drugs, good ol’ Magnesium to try to stop the contractions. I was in and out of sleep with blurry faces coming and going.
I remember a nurse who looked like one of my friends said, “I can only get one baby on the monitor. The other keeps moving,” she said as she moved the paddles around, searching for the other baby, her neck craned to see the screen. I wasn’t too worried. They could never get both on at the same time. I fell back asleep. I couldn’t help it.
I remember hearing the nurses say, “Someone is to be with her at all times.” And they never did leave me alone. Every time I would roll over I would see a nurse or Brad.
I remember Brad pulling out the sofa bed. We were here for the night.
Then it hit. I was fully awake with wicked pain. There was no more sun peeking through the blinds.
“Brad! Wake up!” I yelled.
Nurse call button. Where was my nurse? It was the first time I was ever left alone.
***Note – now is the time to stop reading if you are uncomfortable around labor and delivery rooms, have a queasy stomach, if blood bothers you, or anything about things that can happen with a complicated pregnancy might scare you or gross you out too much. It gets scary and gross. You have been warned.***
She came through the door in a second.
“It wont stop gushing,” I screamed. I cried. I squirmed. “Make it stop! What is happening to me.” I could feel it pouring out of me. I could feel the pressure. I could feel substance to it. I could feel it everywhere, spurting out. I tried to look down at my body. The white sheets were bright red, and not just a small spot. I tried not to look after that.
I felt helpless. I felt reality slipping away. “Help me, please,” I cried. “Just make it stop!” I felt like I was delivering spawn. I felt like the Exorcist girl flopping around in bedand tied up with IV lines and wires for monitors. My head already felt like it was spinning.
And it kept pouring out of me, bright red blood thick between my legs.
I remember her dark eyes and long dark hair through all of this, it was a new nurse. She looked worried but she worked fast and knew what to do. Some code blurred through the hospital speakers. It was for me.
“Doctor is coming,” she said.
But it only got worse.