What Happens After Delivering Twins 7 Weeks Premature?

After delivering Grayson and Sawyer and feeling the immense joy and love that I experienced in those hours I did not expect what came next. I thought I had just finished this immense climb, but little did I know that the hardest parts were yet to come.

Garrett left to be with Grayson and Sawyer when they were taken to the NICU. Our plan all along had been for Garrett to be with them while I recovered, and my mom and sister would stay with me. It seemed easy enough. I would rest while he made sure that Grayson and Sawyer were okay and then as soon as I could I would be there with him.

It wasn’t so easy. It honestly wasn’t easy at all. Starting right after labor the catheter was removed and the nurses warned me that I needed to urinate in the next several hours or the catheter would need to be inserted again. I didn’t feel the need to urinate at all and every time I tried I couldn’t. I was also at a high risk of losing too much blood since I had twins and had excess blood and two placentas to sustain life for two.

In other words, I was being watched very closely. I knew that if I didn’t urinate, I would need to get another catheter and I really didn’t want that. At the five hour mark the nurses felt it was necessary for me to have a catheter inserted. After being in active labor for almost twenty-four hours, birthing two babies, and knowing that they were in the NICU in the most critical unit with a nurse completely to themselves, the pressure of having to urinate was too much for me.

A new nurse, and by that I mean a nurse that had been in training while I was in the prenatal unit, was now the one trying to insert a catheter. It took the nurse over five tries and I was in excruciating pain. The pain was much worse than what I had felt in labor. My mom eventually couldn’t take it and asked for another nurse and a doctor to come in and they were able to successfully put in the catheter. It took hours for me to urinate but eventually I did. I had some intense hematomas from labor and the area was very sensitive. I was now back in bed with a catheter and without much freedom to move.

One of my doctors checked in on me. She spoke to me about the healing process. She told me about the ice, the witch hazel pads, and the spray to numb the pain. She gave me Aleve to try to ease the pains I was feeling since my uterus was contracting more rapidly than women who have carried a singleton. She also spoke to me about the bleeding and how much to expect and checked my hematomas from labor. She also discussed breastfeeding and suggested I schedule a consultation with a lactation specialist.

At around seven PM I decided I was ready to go visit Grayson and Sawyer in the NICU. The catheter stayed and I had to go down to the NICU in a wheelchair with the catheter. I was pushed by my sister and cousin. Garrett met me and they took me through the doors in through what felt like a maze and eventually into the babies’ room. A big white room with two babies incubated who looked much smaller than I remembered. The nurses, the doctor, Garrett, everyone was talking to me. Trying to fill me in. I was in a daze and all I could do was nod because I couldn’t hear their words.

All I could see were these two tiny babies full of chords, incubated and looking like they were still supposed to be inside of me. Their faces didn’t look fully formed. All I could see were all of these people who suddenly knew everything about Grayson and Sawyer when I knew absolutely nothing.

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They asked if I wanted to hold them and I said yes. I was given Grayson and I held him for several minutes then began feeling extremely hot and my vision began to blur. I asked for them to please take the baby in a panic and I waited until they did before my body fainted.

When I woke up there were alcohol pads under my nose, and several doctors and nurses. The room was filled with panicked faces urgently trying to see if I was okay and trying to get me back to my room.

They brought me back to my room. A doctor came to see me and checked me extensively. They gave me an IV and my mom told everyone to leave so I could sleep. She turned off my alarm and for the first time I slept several hours straight.

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I woke up around eleven in order to eat. I was exhausted in every way. I had not seen Garrett since the NICU. Garrett sent updates by text about the boys and how they were doing. They were given IVs and caffeine for their hearts, their lungs seemed to be working well and they were feeding them breast milk that had been donated. He mentioned that as soon as I had colostrum (the healthiest milk your body produces the first couple of days after birth) to let him know so he could get it and bring it to the NICU.

My mom ordered me food. She spoke to the doctors with my sister privately. I didn’t know until much later, but they were concerned about postpartum depression since I met all the criteria to experience it. They set up an appointment with someone at the hospital just in case and shared what signs they should be looking out for.

The lactation consultant came in and taught me how to hand express so that I could get colostrum to the babies. She told me that I had to hand express or pump every two hours so that my body realized that it was time to start producing milk since my babies had come so early.

It was late in the night when Garrett came in to see me for the first time. The moment I saw him I cried. He thought I was crying happy tears. He was so happy. I could smell the babies on him the moment he came to hug me. He was still beaming. The boys so far were okay and he was still so excited about meeting them for the first time. That’s when I started to feel my emotions shifting.

I was in pain. I couldn’t be with my babies. I couldn’t breastfeed them. I had barely seen them. I had gone through the entire day without Garrett. The nurses, the doctors, all the people that cared for me all that time in the prenatal unit were no longer there. It was as if everything was over, but it wasn’t. I felt isolated and I felt alone. I wanted to have Garrett and the babies with me. I wanted to be walking around. I wanted to feel comforted, but I wasn’t.

That night my mom and I tried sleeping but by the time we hand expressed and the nurses checked in on me I barely had thirty minutes to sleep before I had to do it again. The next day was similar.

Once I woke up it was back to hand expressing, nurses, food, updates; the same nonstop whirlwind. I was defeated. When I went into the NICU I was devastated. I had failed. I couldn’t even hold my babies. Garrett was able to witness and be there for everything. I was missing it all. My body failed my babies. They were meant to be inside of me longer. They weren’t okay. Nothing was okay. And now I was alone. It was just me feeling all these things without the care I had before.

The next morning I tried to shake it off. I had some visitors and I was able to shower and shave for the first time on my own in what felt like forever. I got dressed and packed my entire room to leave to the NICU where they had a pull-out couch that was the size of a twin-size bed. It also had a little closet and two recliners.

I walked into the boys’ new room. They were no longer in the critical area and now it was one nurse for every three babies which meant one nurse for Grayson and Sawyer and one other baby in a separate room. The nurses seemed weary of me after my initial fainting incident; they asked if I was sure I could hold my babies.

I was flooded with information, machines, statistics, protocols for visitors, two-minute hand washing procedure, the risk of anyone visiting who was sick and how long before they could return. The lights must be down, noise should be down to almost a whisper. The goal was to continue to recreate the womb and to do everything humanly possible to prevent Grayson and Sawyer from getting sick. The main goal, to be able to nurture these two tiny little fragile humans to where they should have been if I had been able to carry them full term.

This was just the beginning of what was to come. I don’t share this because I want to scare you. I share this because I want you to know that it may not be easy, but you can do it and more importantly because I want you to know mama, that you are not alone.

Nobody can prepare you for what will happen when you have premies, but I know one thing – the love you will feel for your newborn children will bring out a strength and a fight you didn’t know you had. I personally felt a lot of guilt, I felt like my body failed my children, I felt like I shouldn’t have run during my pregnancy, I thought about every instance that I may have pushed my body more than was necessary.

I also felt alone after having the boys. I didn’t feel understood or like anyone could relate to what I was experiencing. Family and the people that love you will see you through. If you are open with them they will see you and even if they can’t understand they will help you.

The first night I was going to be in the NICU my brother was with me. He walked me to find a bathroom that I could use that had more privacy and was cleaner. I started crying and he hugged me and said, “This sucks. I am sorry. You feel this way because it sucks.” My family had been trying to encourage me, but him saying that was the moment that I felt better. This wasn’t in my mind, this was hard. I had just given birth and now I was going to be sleeping in the NICU without the access to my own bathroom or a shower. My newborn babies didn’t even feel like they were mine, they were incubated, and I felt robbed of the experience of having a newborn.

If I could go back and tell myself what I know now, I would tell myself five things.

Five things to know during the three-day period after birth:

Advocate for yourself – I would have been firmer on having more time to try to urinate. The pressure was too much. I should have clearly said what I wanted and what I didn’t want. Afterall, it is my body. I should have also asked for an experienced nurse the moment I realized that the new nurse was struggling inserting the catheter.

Sleep – Breastfeeding is important. I wanted to breastfeed my children and give them what felt like the best chance at thriving in such a delicate environment, but I needed sleep. I needed to sleep several hours straight and recover before getting on a regimented two-hour schedule in fear that I wouldn’t be able to produce milk for my babies.

Speak candidly with your doctor- At this point I had been in the hospital for three months. I should have asked my doctor for more time in recovery. My mom suggested it and I didn’t listen. I was too eager to get to my babies and I also felt like if she didn’t think it was necessary than I shouldn’t ask. It was necessary. Even one more night in a comfortable bed with a full bathroom would have made a big difference. I am pretty certain that my doctor would have let me stay one or two more nights and that would have been a much better transition.

Open up to your partner – Once I spoke to Garrett and told him how sad I was and how alone I felt he understood that I needed him. He understood that this journey was not over. He was there, he started checking on me, making sure I was eating, bringing me water, watching shows with me, cleaning all of my pumping things, waking up with me every time to pump, finding a pumping bra, buying whatever I needed from the lactation store at the hospital. He explained to me everything that was happening with the boys in detail. He taught me how to read the screens, what to look for in the data, what all the beeps meant, when I needed to be concerned. He filled me in about the doctors, the nurses, and the plan moving forward. Simply he was there, fighting my fight and making it much more digestible.

Lean on your people – Be open with them and ask for what you need. Each person will help you in a different way. The NICU is a marathon, not a sprint. The NICU is hard and you need to be able to openly speak to your people, to openly state your fears, to call them when you are waiting on results, to help you when you get mastitis. Your people will carry you during this time and that is okay; you need the support so that you can do everything in your power to guarantee the health of your babies.

Mamas you are a lot stronger than you think. The love you hold and the instinct within you will guide you during this time. It is hard, it is okay to cry, it is okay to feel defeated, but know that your babies are getting the best care possible. You are their advocate and you possess power to help your babies during this time. Hold those babies, take them in, feel what you need to feel. Sleep, eat, and know that it will all be so worth it when you begin to see them achieve the milestones necessary to bring them home.

If you have any questions or just need to be heard by someone who has lived it too, please don’t hesitate to contact me. The purpose of this blog is to create a community of mamas so that we don’t feel alone. You can do this!