"I'm glad you finally got out."

"I'm glad you finally got out."  That is actually what a friend said to me today.  I know she might have not meant it the way it came out, but it really stung me.  It has only been a week since I gave birth to and buried my daughters.  I don't think it is bad to not want to leave my house for one week after I bury my children.  I did want to try to get out today though.  I have my post opp appointment next week and I am determined to take baskets to the nurses in L&D and gifts for the three nurses that we had a personal connection with.  In some way, it makes me feel better to do something for the ladies that took care of me and my girls.  I feel like these ladies gave me some precious extra days with them.  They even brought down a portable sonogram machine so that we could see them twice in the week we were there.  Through this they gave one of the most precious memories of the girls.  During one of these last sonograms, Sophia had the hiccups.  It was the cutest thing and something that we will forever cherish. I knew shortly after I left yesterday that I should have just stayed at home.  I am not allowed to drive for two weeks, so I asked my mom to drive me.  Nothing seemed to be going right.  We went to Wal-mart to print my pictures and my neice was hungry.  We went over to the baby isle and got her a snack.  Not my favorite place in the store right now.  When we got to the photo center, we were informed that the instant printer was out and I was welcome to leave them to be printed.   I had an anxiety attack right there in the middle of the store.   I wanted the pictures of my girls, but there was no way I was leaving their pictures with a stranger.  I didn't want anyone seeing them and I also didn't want someone ruining our CD.  We left without the pictures.  That was the first flop of the day.  Next we went in search of three Willow Tree Healing Angels.  I looked the night before for something to get the three nurses that were special to us.  I knew as soon as I saw it online that this is what we had to get.  The angel of healing is meant for nurses.  Perfect!  But what makes it even more perfect is that she is holding a little bird.  The girls' nursery was done in birds.  I just had to get the angels.   The first store we tried downtown is no longer even open.  Great!  So my mom drives me to the local mall.  I really didn't want to have to get out in the mall with lots of people, but my mom parked at the entrance that is a straight shot to the store.  Of course, no one keeps three of one item in a store.  I was able to get one and the clerk directed me to a store in the mall that would have another one.  Of course, this store was clear across the other side of the mall.  Walking across the mall, I felt like every perfect stranger was staring at me.  That is the feeling that I get around people now.  I feel like everyone is staring at me and feeling sorry for me.  I make the long walk to the other side of the mall, stand in line for 10 minutes and fitting to the day, they don't have the one that I need.  I have to make the long, awkward treck back across the mall without anything to show for it.  I ended the outing finding one more angel and being told that she was glad I finally got out.  Needless to say, I am not making plans to go anywhere else until I can drive myself.  I feel like I can't control anything else, it would just be nice to control the car I am in. 

Our last week with the girls

The next day and week was a blur of nurses, doctors, lab tests and visitors.  We found out that I had an infection that they believed might have caused the premature labor.  They were treating the infection with antibiotics and my white count came down, but never went back to normal.  After the birth, my doctor told us that one of the girls might have been making too much fluid which could have also led to the premature labor.  We still have no answers.  I had to lay in the bed without getting up to even use the restroom for at least two weeks for our girls to have the best chance for surival.  They could give me steroids to help their lungs grow, but there was no point in getting them until I was closer to 24 weeks.  I was 21 weeks 3 days when I went in.  My doctor came in on Thanksgiving, he told us that there was little chance of hanging on for 2 weeks.  I appreciated his honesty, but I serve a big God that can move mountains.  As the days went on, it got harder and harder to stay in the bed.  My hips were extremely sore from having to lay on my side and I hurt so bad from needing to have a bowel movement.  A little TMI here, but my last bm was on Wednesday.  By Saturday, I was in pain.  We discussed an enema, but they wanted to wait on my doctor to make the decision on Monday.  On Saturday night I asked the nurse to check my discharge because it felt like more than it had been and it was more watery.  When she left with the test, I knew something was wrong.  Another nurse came in to tell me that it was indeed amniotic fluid, but that there was still hope.  It was almost a week and it was just trickling.  I could still make it.  The on call doctor came in the next morning and told us that we needed to start making some decisions just in case.  What kind of delivery did I want.  A C-section might give us a little more time with the girls, but they couldn't do a traditional C because of the girls' size.  The "old-school" C would take a toll on my body and could change future pregnancies.  At that moment, I wasn't thinking of future pregnancies.  We were going to save these girls and we wouldn't need future pregnancies.  The next question was hard for him to even get out.  When the girls were born, did we want to resuscitate them?  Wow!  You really have to make that decision??  He very nicely explained that at 22 weeks, if we decided to resuscitate them they might make it a few more hours, but they would be in a lot of pain.  He said he would be back in the afternoon to hear our decisions.  We texted and posted on facebook that we didn't want visitors so that we could make some decisions.  We had more visitors that day than anyother day in the hospital.  The doctor came back late in the afternoon and we told him that I wanted a C-section.  I didn't care what it did to my body, I wanted to give our girls the best chance for survival.  I don't think we ever discussed the question of resuscitation again.  If we did, it is all a blur to me.  Within 15 minutes of the doctor leaving, our lives changed forever.  I told my husband that I couldn't wait any longer to have a bm.  I asked him to help me roll over to see if I could get things going.  As soon as I rolled over, my "trickle" changed.  I felt a gush and immediately called for the nurse.  She checked and said that the bag had broken and I had my bloody show.  She left the room and my husband hit his knees.  Holding on to my stomach, he prayed.  I remember him asking God for mercy and telling Him that we would praise Him in this storm.  The decision to roll over is something that I still struggle with.  They had been encouraging me to roll over the entire time, but I tried not to move as much as possible.  I still wonder how things might be different if I had not moved..  The doctor came in a few minutes later and told us that it was too late for a C-section.  Claire was about 2 inches from being out.  He told us that it could take 10 minutes or a few hours, but that we were about to have the girls.  He didn't want to "play God" so he decided to just let things happen naturally.  They gave us time to be alone and the rest of the night is mostly a blur.  We had an amazing nurse S and she asked if I wanted her to stay or go.  I asked her to stay because I was scared.  I tried pushing several times with the large contractions, but Claire made no progress.  She finally told me that I should get some sleep.  I slept on and off during the night.  By 7 the next morning I had been in labor for 14 hours and I knew there was little chance that our girls were going to make it.  My doctor came in and I told him that I didn't want to prolong this any longer.  They turned off the mag and at 7:49 I gave birth to Claire.  Sophia was born at 7:51.  They didn't make it through the long birth.  They cleaned the girls up and we were able to hold them.  I will never forget how small, yet beautiful they were.  They look just like my husband.  I think God gave me that so that I can see them everyday.  I had finally asked for an epidural sometime late the night before or early that morning.  I can't even remember which one.  Everything after that happened so fast.  Apparently after the birth I hemmoraged.  Not only did we have that to deal with, but all of the placentas did not come out and I needed a D&C.  I thought since I gave birth to the girls that I would get out of a D&C this time.  I went back to surgery and as they started surgery, they started the blood transfusion.  They told us when I went back that I would need two units of blood.  I ended up taking 4 units and a unit of plasma. Because of the blood transfusion, I had to stay an extra two days.  I was ready to go home, but I was later thankful because it gave us extra time with our girls.  Photographers from Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep came and took family pictures of us and our girls.  I will cherish these precious pictures forever.  A lady also came that put the girls footprints on crosses.  I can't wait to get these back.  I can't say enough about the nurses at our hospital.  They are truly kind and compassionate people.  I have never before cried when telling a nurse goodbye.  We were able to go home on Wednesday.  We meet with the funeral home on Thursday.  Meeting with the funeral home about your children is not something you ever expect to do at 29 years old.  We had our girls buried on Friday.  Again, nothing you ever expect to have to do.  We were in shock when we saw the casket.  We knew how small our girls were, but seeing the casket really put things in perspective.  My husband and I were the only ones there when the girls were buried.  It just seemed like the right thing to do.  After the burial, we drove up to a mountain where we use to spend time while we were dating.  What are you suppose to do on the day that you bury your children?

Two weeks of the highest highs and lowest lows

We went in for our 20 week scan nervous about the "little" things.  I was born club footed and was worried that I would pass this on to our girls.  My husband was more worried about the scan than I was.  The way I looked at it, all those things can be fixed and we would still have our girls.  I should tell you now about the distinct personalities of our girls.  Even as I type this it makes me smile thinking about them.  Sophia is our showout.  She has never had a problem showing off or having her picture taken.  Claire on the other hand, is our shy girl.  She has always given the ultrasound tech a run for their money.  She liked to snuggle down in my pelvis and often lays upside down with her feet in the air.  When we found out we were having girls, we had to call in a more experienced tech to tell us what she was.  On the day of the 20 week scan, nothing was any different.  Sophia soaked up her time in the spotlight.  She showed her arms, legs, bottom and brain.  The tech was able to get all of her measurements with no problem.  Claire was determined to live up to her reputation.  She laid on her arm, crossed her legs and buried her head so far down in my pelvis that the tech had to lay me practically on my head.  When she finally got the shot she needed of her head, we heard the dreaded words.  She found a spot on her brain.  They thought it was Dandy Walker.  The nurse helped us get an appointment with a specialist and explained that it would be three weeks.  They needed her to be bigger so that they could measure it accurately.  We spent the next three weeks crying, praying and researching.  In the end, I decided that no matter how severe her disability we were blessed with this child and God would provide.  The scan with the specialist took an hour and a half, but it felt like an eternity.  An hour and a half scan, but the doctor could tell after looking at the pictures for 5 minutes that our girl was healthy.  Long story short, she and actually Sophia, had a little longer drains on the back of their brain.  He said it is as common as having blue eyes and brown eyes.  He apologized and joked that he was sorry that he didn't have worse news.  He said he was sorry, but we were going to have two healtly, squirmmy, big girls.  Go home and be relieved.  We went for the appointment with my regular doctor and were on cloud nine.  We were so excited about the news that we didn't realize then that I never had my cervix or blood checked.  Little did I know how important that would have been.  We celebrated with lunch and had a great time completing our baby registry.  My husband was a little hesitant at first, but after a few minutes he went around scanning all things pink announcing that "boy toys were lame".  I have never seen him so happy.  This was Monday.  Little did we know what Tuesday would bring.  I had been having backaches for a few days.  The doctors and I, attributed it to the pressure from carrying twins.  Tuesday night, this ache became almost unbearable and I decided to call the doctor on call.  I decided to shower, just in case.  The doctor called back and assured me that it didn't sound like preterm labor at all and I should try a heating pad.  I did and remarkably it worked.  I read online that if you apply heat and it works, then it is not real contractions.  Heat makes real contractions worse.  The doctor called back in an hour and I told her that I was sure it was back spasms and the heat had worked.  She was very sweet and said she was glad.  Within 10 minutes of hanging up, the pains were back and stronger.  I went to the restroom and had strains of blood when I wiped.  I was nervous but calmed myself and told myself that we just saw the girls yesterday and they were perfect.  I told my husband that we needed to go to the hospital and be checked but that we didn't have to rush.  He took a shower and I picked out some clothes to wear.  By the time we reached the interstate, the pains increased and I gave him permission to speed.  All the way to the hospital I thought about how mad he was going to be when we drove an hour to the hospital for nothing.  As soon as I got there, they got me in a gown and decided to do an exam just in case.  It still didn't sound like preterm labor, but they wanted to be sure.  I can still see the poor nurse's face as she checked me.  Her face sank as she said that I was pretty dialated.  My husband, sure that everything was fine, was playing on his Ipad and thought she said I wasn't dialated.  The nurse called in another nurse to check behind her and again another heartbroken face.  I thought she was going to cry as she told us that they actually couldn't tell how dialated I was because Claire's water bag was so far down my cervix it was blocking the opening.  They said they didn't want to mess with it anymore for fear of rupturing it.  They immediately tilted my bed back and told me that I would have to lay back with my head back and feet up and hope that the sac would retreat.  We held hope that the sac would retreat.  The nurses told us we should get some sleep.  Yeah right.

A dream come true...

July 2011 was month like none of the rest.  We had our 4th IUI and had increased our medicine this time.  My insurance only pays for 8 IUIs and we didn't want to "waste" all of them on one pregnancy.  Looking back now, we would be happy to have used them all up just to have kept our girls.  At our last check before the IUI we found out that I had 15 eggs!!!  Only 8 were on my good side, but we knew that our chances were greatly increased this time.  I prayed that our eggs would take and my husband prayed that no more than two would take.  I took off the day of the pregnancy test and decided to stay around town to spend some time with a friend that lived there.  I started spotting that morning and was sure that I was going to start my period.  I almost didn't go in for the test.  I even told my friend at lunch that I was sure there was no way I could be pregnant because of the amount I was spotting.  A few minutes later, as we walked around a bookstore, the nurse called with the news.  I was pregnant.  Not only was I pregnant, but my number was so high that it indicated that I could be carrying multiples.  I expressed my concern about the spotting and she told me to come in the next day.  They don't usually do an ultrasound for a few weeks, but since I was spotting they decided to go ahead.  I will never forget seeing those two sacs the next day.  The most beautiful little things I had ever seen.  For the next few weeks I would spot off and on.  They were sure it was just from having twins, but I was put on early bedrest just in case.  I came off of bedrest after a week and never spotted again.  I took my Heparin shots twice a day and made sure I took every vitamin or pill that they said to take.  The rest of the pregnancy was a dream.  I couldn't eat meat the first trimester, but only threw up three times.  I began growing and as soon as we ended the first trimester, we began to let ourselves believe we were going to bring our babies home.  We bought and put together furniture and as soon as we found out that we were having girls, I ordered the bedding.  I quickly had a plan for the nursery and began projects for personal things I wanted to make for the girls.  We were doing so well that we went from appointments every 2 weeks to appointments every 3 weeks.  We celebrated and cherished all of the "little" moments.  How fast I began to grow, feeling the girls flutter and those first big kicks were all things that I will never forget.  We approached the 20 week scan and finally let ourselves fully believe that we would one day be bringing Ava "Claire" and Sophia Anne home.  This is where our dream became a nightmare. 

A little background

My husband and I have been married for 5 years and have been together for 7.  He is honestly my best friend and one of the best things that God has blessed me with.  Around 2 1/2 years into our marriage we decided that we would start trying to start a family.  I come from a super large family (1 of 9 children for my parents) and he is an only child.  Let's just say that it has been an adjustment.  We "tried" for 6 months without luck before deciding to change doctors.  Let me tell you that this was not an easy decision.  I had used this doctor since I was 13 years old.  I have a bundle of female problems and I had always trused him.  Had being the important word.  After getting a second opinion, we quickly found out that things were very wrong.  As it turns out, I had not ovulated at all the entire time we had been "trying".  6 months of our lives had been wasted.  That might not seem like a long time, but when you deal with infertility for years, those 6 months were precious wasted months.  We are still very bitter with this doctor, but for other reasons that I won't cover on this blog.  We switched doctors in August, in November after 2 Clomid cycles, we were expecting.  Our joy quickly turned to saddness as I had my first D&C on December 2, 2009.  I thought then that it was the hardest thing we had ever gone through.  I didn't know then what a hard road we had ahead.  As soon as we were cleared to try again we did.  We were pregnant again in March 2010.  May 17th, 2010 (one day after my husband's birthday) I had my second D&C.  We immediatly struggled to find answers.  Our new doctor, who we love, told us that until we had the 3rd miscarriage he still believed that they were just a coinsidence.  I could not bear to try for a 3rd miscarriage.  After taking a few months off for prayer and thought, we saw a fertility specialist in September of 2010.  I will never forget that first appointment.  I had two friends who used the clinic and they warned me that they were aggressive and the first day would be overwhelming.  Never did I expect 15 vials of blood, a procedure to check my tubes and a sperm sample from my husband.  Eventhough we were overwhelmed that day, I will forever be grateful for them.  Within 2 weeks, we knew that I had one blocked tube, a blood clotting disorder (they believe it caused the 2 miscarriages), and of course I don't ovulate.   I had an unsuccessful procedure to try to unblock my left tube.  I was devastated, but our doctor was confident that it would not hinder our efforts.  I met with a hemotologist and we worked out a plan for "when" I got pregnant.  We went through 7 months of treatments and 4 IUIs before finding out that we were blessed with twins.  We still had fear, but let ourselves begin to believe that we would bring these babies home.