Twin Pregnancy Part 3 of 4

Preterm Labor – 27 Weeks

Early in the morning on July 9th I woke up feeling contractions. I laid in bed and monitored what I was feeling. I was consistently having them and close together. My husband Garrett was leaving on a work trip early that morning to a remote part of Alaska and I reassured him that it was nothing. That day the contractions kept getting worse. My best friend/sister Marcelisa came over and spent the day with me. I laid down, took a bath, and she eventually sent me to nap to see if it would help. The contractions woke me up and I was feeling them stronger and closer together, so we called the doctor. The doctor immediately sent me to the hospital to get checked.

I called my mom and reassured her too that it was probably nothing. Garrett was flying and had no reception at the time, so he was unaware of how the day was unfolding. I honestly thought that I would be sent home; at most I thought I would be assigned to bedrest in my own home. I remember feeling very nervous and anxious.

Marcelisa and I were both nervous, but also calm. We knew it could be serious – but many pregnant women think they are going into labor and they really aren’t. We hoped that I was wrong, but looking back inside of me I knew that what I was feeling felt serious; it was painful and it felt like my babies were coming.

I tend to not want to overreact and that’s exactly what I was doing. Past experiences have taught me to listen to my body. Anytime I have dealt with health issues I have known before having confirmation from a doctor. I hoped I would be wrong this time.

Marcelisa was trying to keep me calm so she was joking. I was trying to stay calm too so I was trying to laugh and make light of the situation. As we parked and walked in towards triage, I started to get more nervous. We checked in and I was hooked up to the monitors to check for contractions. I was right, I was having contractions and they were close together and getting stronger. As I laid there looking at the screen while we waited for the doctor, I started to get very nervous. I wasn’t speaking much but I was starting to feel panic.

My doctor came in to check my cervix; luckily my actual doctor was in the hospital that day. After she walked into my room, life became a whirlwind. It felt like I was in a movie and I was looking at my life from the outside in. She checked me and I was dilated at 2.8 cm and the day before I hadn’t been. She called nurses and had paperwork brought to me. I had to sign medical forms for emergency surgery. Forms that had information on matters such as my death or my babies’ death. She began talking very fast, with a lot of urgency. She said, “Honey we need to prep you for emergency surgery. You can’t eat anything from now on.” She went on to tell me about the shot of steroids I would receive to protect the babies lungs, antibiotics to protect from Strep B, an IV for fluids, blood drawn, and a heavy dose of a medication called Toradol used to stop preterm labor that is commonly used for breathing issues and is administered through an IV. I was being sent to an emergency delivery room immediately.

As she left the room so I could change into a hospital gown I asked Marcelisa to call Garrett and my mom and I looked at her and started sobbing. She hugged me and told me to breathe. She helped me change and she said, “I know it’s really scary, but everything is going to be okay,” but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice she herself was holding back tears and panic to give me strength. Marcelisa talked to Garrett and my mom and I signed all my documents.

It must have been less than ten minutes before my entire family, my parents and my three siblings, were in the hospital. Garrett was trying to find a way to catch the soonest plane possible from Sitka, Alaska – a remote town. Within those ten minutes my doctor called my specialist doctor, a perinatologist, and she drove from her office and was at my bedside. She rolled me into a sonogram room and at that point my family was there.

Dr. Richie, my specialist, is a renowned doctor and for no better use of words a total bad ass. She looked at me and reassured me that my babies were not coming that day. That she was going to do everything she had to do. She said my job was to be calm and lean on my people. She remembered the anatomy scan and my entire family being there and she said to me, “This is why you have them.” She also said that I had to have faith and that she was going to make some phone calls because she knew a lot people and they would all be praying for me. Dr. Richie – she calmed me and she reassured me. She made me feel safe and she was my saving grace. I believe God works through her.

My family all hugged me and agreed with her. She checked the babies and they were doing great and then she started giving out orders. She asked for her favorite nurses for me. Asked them for blankets, water, had me moved into my room and explained what would happen next. The next 24 hours would be critical. She also arranged for a NICU doctor to come speak to me.

Everyone tried to get me to sleep but I couldn’t and I didn’t for the next few days. I really can’t adequately express the experience I lived that day; I just observed what was happening to me and prayed that my babies would be healthy. I was put into a delivery room. I had five monitors on me. One for each baby, one for the contractions, one for my blood pressure, and another one for oxygen levels. I was monitored constantly, which was very uncomfortable. I had to have three to five tight bands around my belly because it was very difficult to keep track of each baby (if anyone has been pregnant and having contractions you know that having something tight around your belly is NOT comfortable). I had a nurse that was still a student adjusting the monitors which made it even more difficult.

I was not allowed to go to the bathroom so when I had to use the bathroom, I had to do it next to my bed with the nurses. I wasn’t allowed to eat until we were sure that the medication was working and there weren’t any options for food for me at the hospital since I had a corn allergy.

The NICU doctor came to talk to me. She spoke to me about the risks of having a baby at 27 weeks. The risk of cerebral palsy, the risk of hemorrhaging in the baby’s brain, and their lung development. She said every day I held the babies was three days less in the NICU. Every week was extremely significant in their development. If I held them in until 30 weeks then they wouldn’t be micro-preemies. That was the big goal at that time – 30 weeks. After that every week would be better and better, but 30 weeks is how I could avoid major issues in their brains. At 33 weeks most likely the babies would be completely healthy and would just need time to grow, to develop their lungs, and to learn to eat. Birth at 35 weeks would mean most likely little to zero time in the NICU. Once in the NICU she explained, I would be there most likely until my due date if not longer. The moment the babies are delivered they would be examined by a group of NICU nurses and doctors and immediately taken to the NICU so I wouldn’t experience skin to skin or breastfeeding.

Garrett was not with me during this time. My mom and my sister were. Hearing all the things that could happen to your unborn children if your body continues to do what it has already began doing is terrifying. All I cared about was the health of my babies and I was determined to do whatever I had to in order to increase their chances.

I think that entire day I just laid with my eyes wide open. I couldn’t process the information. I was the most scared I had ever been in my life but inside of me I also felt strength and determination. When the NICU doctor left I cried again since she confirmed my every fear. My sister and mom reminded me of what my specialist had said.

Fortunately, the medicine began to work and the contractions began to slow down. Garrett made it in around midnight. When I saw him I immediately began to cry. I had been waiting for him, I needed him. He had been to every single appointment but not this time and all day I was just hanging on to the moment when he would be with me.

My specialist stopped by the next morning around 6 am. She told the nurses to feed me, to get me a regular bed that would be a lot more comfortable, and to move me upstairs to pre-term labor. I had made it. I had almost made it the 24 hours and the contractions had lessened. At that moment I felt relief and I knew I had won at least for that day.

A couple hours later I was rolled upstairs. My aunt brought me a lot of healthy foods and snacks to the hospital. My family got me flowers and they went searching for pajamas, slippers, a down comforter, and anything that could make me comfortable.

For the next few days I was monitored constantly. The nurses upstairs were more experienced and they were able to find the babies a lot faster. I was also able to get up and have someone walk me to the restroom.

My room had a wall that was just windows; it was as nice as a hospital room could be. It was filled with flowers and the latest sonogram pictures. My family wrote down the four names we were debating on the white board. My sister added hair and jewelry to the scale of pain which made it a lot more cheerful. I usually had music playing in the background and the TV was never on.

The Toradol, which is not a common medicine used for delaying labor, worked and I was able to take medication after. The medication would work for about 48 hours and then the following 24 hours the contractions would begin picking up again and they would administer the Toradol again.

I took the Toradol every 72 hours and the other medication in conjunction every day. We were slowing down the contractions, but we were not stopping them, and I was slowly progressing along.

Many things happened the following six weeks. The doctors gave me too much IV and my lungs filled with liquid so I was struggling to breath. I threw up several times, which was not good for the contractions. I was not allowed to shower for the first week and then they allowed me to shower every other day, but water could not touch my breast or that could make the contractions strengthen. Putting an IV on my veins was always difficult; it usually took a few times for the nurses to get it in. I had an IV in all the time, which after a few days would become itchy and irritated and eventually painful so we would change it to another spot. My bladder was so full that I had to measure my urine every time I used the bathroom and record it on a sheet. I had to use the bathroom every hour to try to empty it. I tried this for two weeks and then had to have a catheter, which I was terrified of.

My blood was drawn every 72 hours. The medications I was on gave me terrible heart burn. For someone who never even took Advil or Tylenol, having a plastic cup full of pills every six hours was not easy. My entire body ached from being so sedentary and I would have restless leg syndrome during the nights. Insomnia was real and I would sleep a few hours during the night and a couple during the day. The babies were checked every four hours during the entirety of my stay, if not more often, and I had a sonogram with my specialist every few days.

I tried my best not to worry for the sake of my babies, but it was inevitable. I worried about the medications and what it would mean for the boys. I worried about the radiation that they were exposed to constantly. I worried about my lungs and the liquid because of the IV’s. I worried about the babies’ brain, their health, their lungs. I worried about my delivery and whether I could have them vaginally or would need a c-section, or even both. I worried about my own body, about my home, my dog and my cat. I worried about Garrett’s job, everything we still had to get for the boys. I worried about the financial expense of such a lengthy stay in the hospital and the NICU. I worried about breastfeeding and feeding my babies. The list goes on and on.

Many things happened during my hospital stay. Something was happening constantly to be honest. I had very little down time unlike what people would think. It was a tough time and I wish for all mamas to be able to carry their babies full term, but as with all difficult situations, I learned a lot. I learned a lot about myself, my husband, my people, doctors, nurses, and what truly matters in life. If you are reading this, I want to share the happy moments too and the things that helped me through this time and to carry my babies six weeks longer.

Here are 7 things that were in my control that helped me hold my babies for six weeks longer:

1. My husband was my rock. He is the person that stayed the night with me every single day. He cleaned and disinfected the room a few times a day. He brought me a hot chocolate every morning and would check on me midday. He never missed a sonogram and was always there for the daily appointment with my specialist. He stayed up with me during the night and massaged my legs when I felt like I was losing my mind with anxiety. He warmed up all my food down the hall and got me water with ice constantly. He knew every medication I was on, every single detail. He kept a note pad with all the information. He knew how to control the monitor screen when the monitor would move and lose the baby and he would adjust and find the baby so that a nurse didn’t have to come in. Garrett celebrated his 30^th birthday in that hospital. He did everything without a complaint, without an attitude, all he showed me was love and support. For better or for worse through sickness and in health – his actions said it all. He was as committed to my health and the wellbeing of our children as I was, and we were a team. In times like these you can lean on each other or grow apart. It would have been easy for us to grow apart since everything was happening to me and he couldn’t really relate to what I was feeling or even how I felt about the boys at that point. He was there though, constantly, and in those six weeks we genuinely become the strongest we had ever been. Lean into your partner, you are in this together!

2. My family, my village. They stepped up and they were a team. My sister and my mom communicated with everyone and they were there meeting my every need. The two of them along with my aunts prepared every single meal for me. I was eating very healthy before the hospital and we knew having the best nutrition was going to maximize my health, the babies’ development, and by default, keep the babies in longer. They also scheduled for me to have a massage in the hospital, which was helpful with the pain I was feeling. My aunt purchased down comforters so Garrett and I could be comfortable. My sister bought me slippers, pajamas, makeup, snacks, entertainment, and pillows. My room was always filled with flowers, multiple arrangements at a time. My family brought me things from home; pictures, jewelry, my iPad, and our AppleTV, among other things. My room had a beautiful feeling to it and most nurses, doctors, and priests would mention it. How special and light it felt. That was all due to my family, to my friends who visited with hot chocolate and lunch, to care packages sent to the hospital, and to my doctor. Dr. Richie told me that I needed to have faith, that I needed to practice eastern medicine and that’s what we did. Your people, whoever they are, they love you and this is a time when you NEED them. Please don’t try to do this on your own.

3. The nurses and the doctors. I had the best care a person could have. I had a dedicated team of doctors and nurses. I outlasted everyone but one woman in the prenatal unit. The nurses became my family. They were so kind and so loving. The doctors checked on me every single day. Each one giving me their own advice. Some of the things that stand out and that I would do again if I lived a similar experience were: don’t visit the NICU – it will just stress you out and nothing will change by visiting; have someone come in to give you a massage; make your room homey and bring things from home, you are going to be there a long time; try to have people deliver meals so you are nourished; have people visit if you can so you aren’t alone; do the things that you do at home to make you feel better such as your makeup or your nails; listen to music; have the priest come in to pray if you are the praying type; breathe and try to stay calm, it is better here than in the NICU; get a special pillow for your belly; and advocate for yourself, speak up. I urge you to take your time choosing your doctor and, if you have multiples, your specialist, your hospital, your NICU, and your prenatal unit. This is very important, and you should spend time researching so you have the best care possible.

4. Be your own advocate. My specialist came to check on me one morning and I was speaking to her and she noticed I was very out of breath. I hadn’t noticed because the contractions were full on again but when she realized I was struggling to breathe, she listened to my lungs they had liquid in them. Another doctor had told the nurses to give me a lot of fluids and very quickly to stop the contractions without speaking to my specialist. I already had an excess of fluid, so that was dangerous for me. After that experience she told me I had to speak up. That everything had to go by her first and I had to advocate for myself. She was right. That’s why I turned down a student nurse from doing the catheter. I also began asking for certain nurses to change my IV or find the babies when monitoring. At that moment all that mattered was my health and my babies’ health and I had to learn to speak up and ask for what I needed. To be honest, that’s when I began feeling less like a kid and a lot more like an adult. You have to advocate for yourself; you can still be nice, but you do have to be direct and not hurting the nurse’s or doctor’s feelings can’t be your priority.

5. Try to have a couple of individuals who are regularly with you. If you can ask for people to be with you then I would. Things changed in seconds for me daily. The moments that I was alone and something would happen I would send a text and someone would come immediately. For the most part though, I had someone with me. Don’t get me wrong, it is good to be alone too. That way you can rest and check in with yourself, but when things are changing so quickly it is wise to have others with you to take note of what is happening and to advocate for you. It is difficult to think clearly when so much is at stake and things are moving so quickly. Doctors and nurses are human and they can make mistakes. They are caring for many patients, so it is important to know what is being given to you, why they are doing what they are doing, and when they are doing it. We caught mistakes before they happened because Garrett, Marcelisa, and my mom all had a shared notepad where they kept track of everything. You need support and you need others that love you in your corner.

6. Have faith and lean in. Whatever you believe in, have faith and know that you are not being punished. You do not have bad luck, you are not a victim, the universe isn’t conspiring against you. Carrying a child is an extraordinary miracle and it is incredible that it often goes so smoothly. You must believe with all your heart and soul that everything is going to be okay and you need to fight. Find the strength inside you and fight the fight. Do everything you can to keep those babies in. Don’t make your situation worse by dwelling in a negative mindset. This is difficult, but you can do it and once you hold your child in your arms you will not regret any of it. Motherhood is about leaning in; leaning into your child. Letting go of expectations and control and moving along beside them. This is just the start of that lesson. Of course, you will have negative thoughts and difficult moments. Feel them, talk about them, and then move on. I felt a lot of guilt when I was in the hospital, I felt like I had let my babies down, I felt guilty for running, for working as long as I had, for doing too much. I felt inadequate and that took a while to get past, but truly nobody knows why these things happen so just do what you can now!

7. Live as if you were at home. I would wash my face and brush my teeth morning and night. I would brush my hair and put it up in different ways. My sister would color my nails and my toes. My sister also helped me shave my legs. I would put a little makeup on most mornings. Just a little foundation on my cheeks and curled my eyelashes. I would also wear my jewelry – pieces that carried a lot of meaning for me. My aunt and mom bought me many pajamas that were comfortable with the IV, catheter, and monitors, such as short sleeve shirts, comfortable shorts, button down shirts, and cute little pajamas that made me feel more like a person. They also bought me a couple of robes, which were very helpful when I had visitors. I played games with family, watched TV shows with Garrett, friends visited to watch Game of Thrones. My sister brought my godchild over often and he would cuddle with me and give me his innocent love. My cousin would visit and bring me little treats. My mom and sister had sleepovers with Garrett and I and we watched movies. My brother and his girlfriend brought my dog over and I was able to see him in the parking lot. This is your new home and it is a fight for the health of your babies so embrace this time. When you look back it will be with tears of joy and gratitude.

If you are in the hospital in preterm labor or if you are expecting I hope that my story helps you. I hope it gives you strength and encouragement. This is truly just the start of doing everything in your power to give your all to your children. Your child will make you feel things you never knew existed, and they are worth every sacrifice. If you have any questions or any helpful advice for other mamas, please share it with me.

The final post of this series will be the story of my labor. Although eventful and chaotic I was blessed with two little babes that have stolen my heart and flipped my world upside down in all the best ways. Thank you, friends, for being here and taking time to read about our journey!