As the birth of my girls approaches, it brings back many memories. Some of which are hard to share. I have been thinking about everything that happened a lot the last few weeks and am so glad I am here with my girls. I remember my doctor telling me the girls probably wouldn't go full term and wondering how on earth I would know when I was in labor. I remember that being one of my big questions, you hear so many different stories, ohhhh you'll know and you'll have plenty of time, but then someone else says how they delivered on the way to the hospital in the back of a car. With having twins, I was worried if I didn't make it to the hospital, what would happen? People were right though, you know your body better then you realize. When something isn't right, you will know.
Now whether or not you listen to what your body is telling you may be a different story. You see, I am a little stubborn sometimes. When someone else gets hurt I make sure they are all taken care of, insist on them going to the doctor or whatever is needed. If it is me, I usually say, nah I'm good, really. I never feel like what is wrong is a good enough reason to go to the doctor. I don't want to be one of those people that go for every little thing. Heck I cut off the hole outside of my finger and was bleeding excessively and wouldn't go to the doctor until the next day when my momma came over and made me.
The day before I had my girls I had been feeling horrid. I was at work and couldn't take it anymore, told them I felt like poop and was heading home. Of course my mom and husband mentioned maybe I should go to the doctor and I just knew they would tell me I was over reacting and was fine. To appease them when later that night, I still wasn't feeling better after resting, I called the on call doctor. As I assumed they told me I was probably fine, just a virus "keep your feet elevated and stay hydrated" they'd told me. I knew I wasn't sick. As a 28 year old woman I know my body well enough to know when I am getting a cold. This wasn't that. I'd felt like I had been run over by a semi multiple times. I took the on call docs advice and relaxed.
The next morning I woke up to my work alarm. I tried my best to get out of bed and get the move on to the bathroom to start getting ready. I could barely walk and make it in there. I woke Adam up and remember asking him if he thought I should still go to work. Smart man that he was said call your mom and see if she can come keep an eye on you (he had to go to work), have her take you to the hospital. I told him I'd see if she could come over, but didn't need to go to the hospital. I would wait until the doctors office opened and call to get an appointment for later in the day. He was very adamant that I not wait that long and just go to the hospital. I told him if nothing was wrong they would think I was silly and was still undecided. Stubborn woman that I am. After he left and my mom was on the way, my mind was very quickly decided.
God knowing me the way he does must have known I needed a little persuasion. Never in my life had I heard anything so clearly. I know about miracles, and have seen them in my life. But I've never been spoken to or gotten such a clear direct message from God before. He spoke to me. I physically heard him, it was not a feeling I got. I heard his voice and he told me I was going to the hospital the minute my mom got there. Not to wait. Not to go to the doctors office. I was going to the hospital. There was no doubt about the message, it was very clear and precise, and I knew it was God speaking to me.
On the way to the hospital I told my mom, "they are just going to tell me I am sick or have a virus, but I'm not sick, I know my body and something is wrong." I knew the time was here and the hospital was going to have to intervene. Something was wrong.
I got to the hospital around 8 and told the front desk something was wrong, I didn't know what but felt like I'd been run over. They sent me to a room, ran some tests, and found blood in my urine. "Ahhh so she must have a kidney stone" they'd said. They pounded me on the back a few times and realized that no, I did not have a kidney stone. They strapped some heart rate monitors to each of the babies and that's when I found out I had been in labor. I was in shock, couldn't be, but there it was on the monitor showing the contractions. They shot me up with some medicines that would prepare the babies lungs if they came (which unfortunately it was too late at this point) and another to stop the labor. My doctor just happened to be at the hospital. She stopped in to tell me they were keeping me overnight so they could monitor me, everything should be fine, and she was on her way.
They rolled me in a wheel chair to my overnight room and started hooking me up to the monitors in that room. I had called Adam and told him how they were keeping me overnight. He was going to come by after work and bring me anything I needed. I hadn't had time to pack anything that morning. Heck I was still in my sweats, sports bra and a T. All I had with me was my purse and phone.
Now you should know all of this happened in a very quick time frame. Once I was hooked up I remember the nurses watching the screens. I'll never forget these words. The nurse very randomly and strangely asked me "How far is your husband?" "Well he's at work, so maybe 15 minutes away?" and the only response I got was a strange look and "Ohhhhh" I called Adam and didn't know how to say it but asked if he could come to the hospital, "Sure" he'd said, "let me just finish up here and I'll head that way in a bit.
I didn't know what to make of her comment. Should I be worried? By the look on her face, most definitely. My mom, noticing the chaos, had called Adam again, and told him to get down there as fast as he could. Meanwhile, my specialist shows up, practically out of thin air. Next thing I know her and the nurses were running me as fast as they could down the halls on the hospital bed. It was something out of a movie. They rammed me into several walls, not caring about anything but getting me into that emergency room. I am panicked, what is going on? What is wrong? Obviously when I arrived in the surgery room I put two and two together.
There I laid, with a crowded room full of nurses, anesthesiologists, my specialist, etc. Everyone was yelling, bright lights were shining down on me. They were rolling me here and their poking and prodding at me. I remember someone saying "I'm sorry, normally we would explain what is going on, but we just don't have time." My doctor didn't arrive until a few minutes later. Finally I recognized someone in the room. I lay there on that table all alone, not knowing what was going on as chaos had erupted. My doctors were shouting over the nurses scrambling around, do we put her under? Do we let her stay awake? Should we let her husband or mom in? The arguments ensued.
At this point I had no idea where my mother was, or if my husband had even known what was going on. I didn't know my mother had called him. I didn't know he was flying down the highway to get there; That the front desk girl had waited for him and ran him down the halls as fast as they could go. I didn't know any of that. My mom was in a gown outside in case he couldn't make it, but that didn't matter because they hadn't decided if anyone could come in yet anyways.
As the team around me quickly discussed their plan, and rushed around in preparation, I realized I was dying. I knew it in my heart. I was only 29 weeks and everything around me pointed to that conclusion. I was going to die on that table surrounded by strangers, all alone, while my loved ones were out there somewhere with no idea what was happening other then my mom. So as I laid there I did the only thing I could. I prayed that Jesus would save my babies. That he would get them out safely and that they would be okay. I knew they would have a rough start and journey ahead, but I prayed that his angels would be there to protect them, to keep them safe, and help them to grow healthy. That's all I wanted. I made peace with the fact I was dying, just as long as my babies would be okay.
As the process continued they kept asking if I knew who I was, what my name was, can you feel us poking you? - yes. How about now? Do you feel sick? Are you going to throw up? Do you know a real tall guy with a beard and can he come in? Adam had finally arrived. Thankfully they kept me awake during the surgery, and had allowed him entrance. Unbeknownst to me, he had arrived just after they cut me open, and got a full view of what was taking place. They had put up a curtain if you will so I couldn't see the details. They placed the tiniest stool I'd seen for Adam and told him not to move. He sat next to me as I squeezed his hand. Thankful to finally have him there.
Up until that point the anesthesiologist had tried to calm me down, and I'll always be grateful for how kind he was to me. After a bit, I started to look around and Adam quickly stopped me. Knowing me the way he does, he warned me not to look to focus on him. Looking back, I realized shortly after the anesthesiologist had moved to my left side blocking my view. That was where my buckets of blood, tissue, and all the unpleasantries were on full display. Unfortunately, I had already looked up and seen my blood on the lights above. My doctor later told me that I was a bleeder. She had a bit of trouble getting some of it to stop.
It took them a full two extra minutes to get "Baby B" out. My uterus had decided to clamp down on her and wasn't letting go. She had to cut vertically up my uterus to get to her and pull her out. She was pretty bruised after all of it and had lost a lot of blood. You see, my placenta had torn away and I was bleeding to death internally. That is why the blood had been in my urine. Where it tore away was next to her and she was the one losing the blood with me the quickest. Her heart rate had started to drop on the monitor and that is what alerted my medical team. Had I waited, and went to the doctors office later in the day, had I done anything different and not went right in, I am certain I wouldn't be here today. I went to the hospital at 8am, and the girls were out just after 10am. My mom later told me as she waited outside of the surgery room, a chaplain had came up to her and asked to pray with her. That was when it hit her the most how very serious this was.
Was it a miracle that there just happened to be a team of NICU nurses in from Children's Hospital that day? One for each of my babies? Was it a miracle that my specialist happened to be there, and my doctor was already at the hospital for another reason? For such chaos, and an emergency, I couldn't have asked for things to be so perfect, and just as it needed to be under those conditions. So if you ask me, Yes, it was a miracle, and I can see God's hand in it all.
I am so thankful I listened and went in. We had a rough start, but my girls are now big and healthy. They are in the middle to upper range on the growth chart, even though they were so small. They have mostly caught up, chattering non-stop and attempting to walk. No one would guess now that these two spent 10 weeks in the NICU fighting to be here. But they are my FIGHTERS, they are STRONG, and I am blessed to have their smiling, sweet faces here with me. When something so traumatic happens in life, one is never the same. I have a different view on the world now, and know every day, and every minute is a precious gift from God. Never take it for granted. Don't sweat the small things. Stay positive and don't waste time arguing and fighting over the stupid stuff. You never know what tomorrow holds.
-Katie
