It has been 13 months since the birth of my twin baby boys. I started writing this final post on my birth story a few weeks after my babies were born but I haven’t been able to finish it. Part of that is because I’m a (new-ish) mom of twins, and it’s nearly impossible to find the time to blog. But the major reason why is because I have had a hard time re-living the birth experience. Just telling my story brings back a lot of the same emotions I was feeling when I was in the hospital- but I’m finally ready to get the rest of my story published so I can share it with you all.
I want to be completely honest about how I was feeling in the moment of my delivery and how I still feel even now. There were a lot of feelings of anxiety, of being incapable and sheer terror. Now I realize that a lot of women feel disappointed about how their births turned out (especially if they didn’t go as planned) and I guess I am one of those women.
For the most part my labor went according to plan. I labored at home first, then I labored in the hospital while the doctors and nurses monitored the babies. Then I got the epidural before being moved to the OR where I always knew I would deliver my twins. I also knew that my second baby was breech and that he would need to be delivered by breech extraction. However, I truly had no idea how all of those events would make me feel as I experienced them.
Okay, enough rambling and describing how I felt- here’s what happened:
Once we arrived in the OR I was immediately transferred to the operating table. Somehow the doctors and nurses worked together to pick up the entire whaleness of me and put me on the tiny hard table that was no where close to being wide enough for a giant pregnant lady. (My doctor even made a comment that we would need to be careful not to let me fall off the side.)
Everyone around me was working fast- propping up my legs into stirrups, making sure my oxygen mask was on, they did ask me if I wanted to be covered up (but I sensed the urgency of delivering the babies ASAP so I said I didn’t care-I did kind if care but I cared more about getting my babies out safely). I never imagined giving birth completely uncovered in front of about 20 men and women I’d never seen before in my life. Oh yeah, and I was all alone because my husband was still changing into his scrubs.
Within a few minutes they were ready for me to push. At that point I heard someone say “the husband is at the door, can we let him in?” Thankfully he wasn’t too late, and they let him in so he could hold my hand. (Huge sigh of relief).
Then they basically just used the forceps and started pulling and telling me (more like everyone yelling at me) to PUSH, push, push! I tried once and realized I had no idea how to push. I felt like I couldn’t take a deep enough breath in order to push. I started coughing up phlegm (partly because I was super congested all the time during the last trimester of pregnancy) and partly because of the oxygen mask making it hard for me to swallow. We had to stop for a second so I could hawk up a loogie and spit it out into a cup someone was holding for me. Then they were like you have to PUSH right now, so I curled forward with my chin down toward my chest holding onto my legs and tried to bear down as much as I knew how. Someone was counting (insanely slow) all the way to 10, but my breath kept running out so quickly (around 5), and before I could catch my breath I could hear them saying “again, again, push, push…” I felt so panicky that I wouldn’t be able to push out my baby in time. I knew he wasn’t doing well and I seriously felt like I was solely responsible for his little life. (Still can’t write this without crying). I was calling on the name of the Lord over and over again and desperately asking Him to help me deliver my babies safely. Even though these were such intense moments in reality it was only about 5 minutes of me pushing and the doctor pulling with forceps. I could feel a lot of pressure down there but the epidural was numbing my right side up pretty good so I didn’t feel much pain. I finally discovered that the only way I could keep myself from blowing out all my air while pushing was to yell/grunt. My husband was telling me to close my mouth and hold my breath, but I just couldn’t do it. I did about 3 big pushes while yelling and my baby A came out pretty fast (resulting in a third degree tear). I didn’t get to see him and I couldn’t hear him making any noise. I kept asking if he was okay and they told me he was okay and that I needed to start pushing baby B out. I found out later that Baby A was limp when he first came out but after the first minute he came to and I heard him cry. Hearing his tiny voice was such a relief. I guess they didn’t want me to worry since it had another baby to deliver, but I truly regret not having the experience of having my babies put on my chest immediately after delivery (obviously he needed medical attention, so I understand why it didn’t happen, but I’m still sad about missing that experience).
The pushing for Baby B was different because the epidural wasn’t working as much on my left side. I felt the contractions (and that was a good thing) because I felt more in control while pushing. The epidural worked enough so that I didn’t feel too uncomfortable when they reached up to grab his legs and pull him down into the birth canal. I then pushed maybe a total of 5 times (yelling again because I think it worked best for me-even though I wasn’t holding my breath properly like everyone was telling me to). Three minutes later I pushed out Baby B’s hips and one shoulder at a time and finally his head. I was so thankful that I could “feel” him come out more than Baby A. I felt so much more in control of my body. This was why I was scared of the epidural in the first place (but again I understand why I needed it and I am thankful for it ultimately).
Once the babies were safely out and I could hear them both crying I was so relieved and could only keep repeating “thank You Lord” quietly over and over again. During the delivery all I could do was call on the name of the Lord because I was so terrified and needed Him in order to get through the next second. It was only by His calming and sustaining me that I believe I was able to remain outwardly calm.
From my position on the operating table I couldn’t see the babies. I did catch a few glimpses of flailing little legs and feet though. I was told that they both were doing good and I couldn’t wait for them to be laid on my chest so I could kiss them. That didn’t happen though…
I started feeling very lightheaded and thought I was going to pass out. Then I noticed a pain in the left side of my chest that felt like something heavy was sitting on me, crushing me. I tried to tell the doctor how I was feeling, but my mouth was so dry it was hard to talk. Then I heard the doctors and nurses talking about how I had lost 2 liters of blood and they called for blood bags to be prepared in case I needed a transfusion. I then received a giant IV in my right hand (I already had the first IV placed in my other hand for the other medications and fluids I received during labor.) I also noticed a loud beeping that kept getting faster. It was my heart monitor that had gone up into the 180s plus I had really high blood pressure. I heard someone call out “she’s tachycardic, let’s hang the bags” (of blood for the transfusion) I had only ever heard phrases like this on medical TV shows which made me pretty nervous. Again, all I could do was call on the name of the Lord.
So I had a blood transfusion (2 units). All this was happening while my OB and the resident doctor she was training were stitching me up (I could feel all the pricking, tugging and pulling pretty well despite the epidural.)
I also was having my abdomen roughly massaged in order to help my uterus contract back down and stop more bleeding. Super painful by the way. I had Vitamin K shots administered into my upper arm multiple times to try and help stop the bleeding as well. I was given Cytotec pills to help my uterus contract and shrink back down- again, to stop the bleeding. The pills stayed in my extrememly dry cheeks for over an hour and weren’t dissolved as they should have been until I washed them down with water back in my labor and delivery room.
This whole experience was very scary (and incredibly uncomfortable/painful) to me, and at one point I even remember praying that I would be able to hold my babies before I died (I know, dramatic, but I truly had the fear that I might die from blood loss or a heart attack.)
My husband, on the other hand was not concerned for me (he was in medical school at the time, so he was used to seeing these types of situations). He was happily video taping the babies- and at one point he tried to give me baby B to hold, but I was shaking too uncontrollably to be able to hold him. Our first family photo was taken by a nurse. In it my husband is holding the babies and I am laying on the table with my oxygen mask on looking pale and half dead. Not something I’ll be posting on Facebook that’s for sure.
Once they got me stitched up, they wheeled me (still attached to the transfusion bags) back to my labor and delivery room.
growing peeps 