Part one

Thursday, Jan 27

Part 1:

We left extra early this morning to get the the hospital. We’d seen mixed reports about the roads, so we wanted to have plenty of time. The number of abandoned cars/truck/tractors along Rt 50 between Ballston and Falls Church was incredible. As we were pulling into the hospital, Scott commented that medical professionals always find a way to make it in. Little did we know…..

 

In the testing center, most of the lights were out, but a couple of patients were waiting. Absolute NO testing center staff made it in! The head nurse from the HRP unit actually locked the door behind me — explained that the nurses and sonographers from HRP would scan the few of us there, but they were closing/cancelling all appointments. Great. By the time my scan was done, two of the doctors where there, including Dr. HeadDoc. The scan itself didn’t really turn up anything new; but the way Scrappy looked was concerning to us. He’s always been in a super tight ball, but he seemed to be even tighter, he just looked a bit more sickly than normal.

 

Dr. HeadDoc called us back, said that he no longer felt comfortable with us going against his orders, that Scrappy was 90% over the precipice. He said all he needed was a slight tap, and over he’d go. Our definition we found out was different than his for ‘over the edge.’ For him, it meant death. For us it meant a decline. Oh.

 

He stated that he’d still do whatever we decided, but we really needed to understand that we were beyond risking Scooby now, it was becoming critical. We looked at the report, discussed it, realized that both arteries in his umbilical cord had turned to a reverse flow. No longer was one reversed, one with intermittent absent flow. Dr. HeadDoc also said he’d talked to Dr. Specialist1 in CharmCity: they agreed it was time. Crap, it is now critical.

 

We told Dr. HeadDoc that we wanted to go talk about everything, that we’d come back. We went to the lobby to discuss. We really wanted to make it to 28 weeks, but at the same time we’ve been playing hard-core poker for a while, can we keep risking it? Back in December, we would have been beyond ecstatic to make it this far. We decided we’d gambled enough; they were right, it was time. I also trusted Dr. Specialist1 completely; he’s been with us since week 16, he knows what he’s doing, I want to trust in his gut instincts.

 

We return to Dr. HeadDoc’s office, tell him our decision. There’s then debated over delivery today or tomorrow, Friday. We want to wait till Friday, go home, get dinner, see Bruno one last time, get things in order. The head nurse that day tells us Dr. Gloomy will be doing the surgery — Scott and I eye each other. “Are you ok with that?” “Well, he’s just doing surgery, the babies will immediately go to other doctors; for my surgery, fine, ok. We start to head out when the head nurse chases us down, says Dr. HeadDoc wants to be there, that he’s checking with staffing in the NICU — he wants to make sure it’s fully staffed up. We wait a bit more, finally ask the head nurse to just call us because we wanted to go do a few things. On the way to find her, she’s coming to find us. It’s Twins Day in the NICU, I’ll be the third set of twins, the surgery is schedule for 3:30, we can’t leave. It’s no around 12:30pm.

 

We’re sent to L&D triage. Put on the gown, get set up for continuous monitoring. Sc oozy and Scrappy are quite active, especially Scrappy; his heartrate is really high, he keeps getting excited, keeps kicking me. Poor Scooby is just chilling, not ready to be born, he’s going to be in for a shock.

 

The anesthesiologist comes to see me, explains the spinal I’ll be given. Gives me a shot of something to help with nausea. It’s go time.

 

Scott and I are separated: He to scrub in, put on the jumpsuit, cover shoes, hat, mask, etc. Me to get the spinal, get prepped on the table. The spinal itself didn’t hurt, but I won’t like and say it was easy. Having to sit incredibly still, in that awkward, hunched over position was not easy. The worse part was that my neck and upper shoulder muscles kept tensing up. The man holding me up through it just kept whispering to me to relax. I finally asked him to scoot closer to me so that I could rest my head on his shoulder. And I focused on breathing, just remaining calm. While the anesthesiologist was still working, I could feel the medicine already working its way up my feet –awesome! Then they told me to QUICKLY lay down. Yeah, I was already growing numb and fast. I’ve always heard childbirth makes you lose your modesty, and well, that’s no lie. You can’t feel anything, you just lay there and let them do their work down there.

 

Scott came in, but I barely recognized him since he was so covered up. Meanwhile I kept closing my eyes, focused on my breathing, tried to remain calm. After all, these babies were coming out way too early. Scared beyond belief. Overwhelmed knowing the huge fight we’re facing. Excited about meeting my precious boys. Overflowing with love for these little guys who I haven’t even met yet.

 
Part two

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3 thoughts on “Part one

  1. I’ve been following your story since I saw some posts on the bump a few weeks ago and you linked to your blog. Congratulations on your sons – you did a great job getting to 27 weeks. Amazing and beautiful pictures! They bring back lots of memories of my son’s birth – 1lb, 6.5 oz at 23w5d – so right in between your guys for weight. Lots of prayers and positive vibes for them and you and dad.

    Are you at Fairfax? They are amazing there. Keep fighting S+S!!

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