Hellobee

Before I get into the second part of the boys’ birth, I want to share a story from the night I was admitted to the hospital. I had only been in labor and delivery for an hour or so when a resident came into my room to ask me a few questions. She wanted me to share my birth plan with her, so she could do her best to make sure they were as respectful of my wishes as possible, while still keeping the babies safe. I remember being so grateful that she took the time to ask me about my plan. It gave me a little bit of (imagined) control over a very scary situation. I thanked her, but let her know that all I really cared about was keeping the boys safe, and getting an epidural. That was it. Remember that bit about the epidural, it gets important later.

So fast forward a few weeks, and the boys are getting ready to make their appearances. The doctors in labor and delivery put me back on a magnesium drip, and then decided to wait a while to see if my contractions would slow at all. The hope was that my contractions would stall out, and the boys would get another few days of growth inside. However, the key to keeping me pregnant was that nobody could manually check dilation. At that point, the risk of introducing infection was too high, and I would have to deliver. I understood, and decided to wait on getting an epidural as well. I didn’t want to get one if nobody was sure I was even having babies that day.

The day passed uneventfully. My contractions never slowed, but I was able to get through them with some deep breathing and back rubs. Later that night, I asked my nurse to please page the resident so we could see if I had progressed at all. I knew that manual checks were out, but they would be able to use a speculum and eyeball my progress.

Parenthood. It’s glamorous.

In the twenty or so minutes it took the resident to arrive, I experienced several strong contractions. She was having a hard time seeing anything, and after realizing that I had been on magnesium for almost twelve hours at that point without labor slowing, somebody made the call to check me manually. I was at 4cm.

I remember being pretty excited at that point, which seems kind of strange in retrospect. I think the uncertainty of the previous day had been weighing on me more than I realized. At least now we knew what was happening. I had met with the NICU team many times while on bedrest, and I knew exactly what to expect. I would get my epidural, be moved to the OR, and be allowed to deliver vaginally, assuming the babies weren’t in distress. Upon delivery each boy would be assessed and stabilized by a NICU team, at which point my husband and I would see them before they were taken upstairs.

I requested an epidural, and was informed that the anesthesiologist was at a c-section in the OR. It would be a bit, but I wasn’t too worried. I was 4cm when I arrived at the hospital before my daughter was born. It took about twelve hours from arrival to birth, so I felt pretty confident that I’d be just fine.

However, instead of my contractions staying about the same, they got worse. Fast. They were strong, and there was almost no break between them. Mr. Sun called the nurse again, and she said that the anesthesiologist was still in the OR, but that she’d call the doctor so they could check my progress. It had been thirty minutes from the last check, so I didn’t expect that much had changed. In fact, I felt pretty wimpy for being in that much pain.

The resident returned, and it was pretty obvious that she wasn’t expecting me to have progressed either. However, she checked me anyways, and I watched her face change. I was 10cm, and she could feel Baby A’s head.

I panicked a bit then. I wasn’t in the OR, there were no NICU teams there, and I didn’t have an epidural. Let me tell you, it is amazing how fast medical professionals can move in an emergency. In the time it took me to start to panic, the room was filled with doctors, nurses, and two NICU teams. It felt like people were just dropping out of the ceiling, ready to go.

No epidural though. I found that pretty concerning, and was wildly asking everyone when I could get one. It wasn’t just for pain relief, but it also had to do with the possibility of needing an emergency c section for baby B. I was terrified of needing to be put under completely for a C section.

The high risk attending was in charge at this point, and she looked at me very seriously and gave me exactly the pep talk I needed right then.

“We aren’t going to be able to give you an epidural. It’s too late, and you won’t be able to stay still long enough. I want you to focus on me, trust me, and trust your body. You know how to do this.”

And, to my great surprise, I did know how to do it. It took exactly one push before Baby A, Gavin, came into the world. He screamed as loud as he could, and I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. His membranes were the ruptured ones, and I had been so afraid that his little lungs weren’t growing right without any amniotic fluid surrounding him. They whisked him away, told us that he was three pounds 12 ounces, and the NICU team got to work getting him stabilized.

Gavin Michael

Then Baby B, Tyler, celebrated his newfound space by flipping breech.

It took almost twenty-five minutes of careful manipulation, including breaking his water, before he was born safely head first. I know it hurt, but that part is pretty fuzzy now. Tyler didn’t cry right away, and I held my breath while the doctor gently rubbed his back. He took a giant, gulping breath, and I burst into tears. The NICU team took him, and let us know that he weighed in at three pounds fourteen ounces.

Tyler Austin

Our sons had arrived. As far as anybody could tell, they were healthy. I knew that we would have a long road ahead of us in the NICU, but right now that didn’t matter. I stood over their bassinets stroking their hands, and telling them how proud we were of them, and just how loved they were. Fear and worry could wait. At that moment, I was nothing more or less than a tired mom overjoyed to meet her children.