Twinning Part 2 - My Pregnancy and Labor Story

I found out that I was pregnant with my second baby (or what I thought would be my second baby) on Mother’s Day in 2015. My son had only turned three months old a week or two ago, but I was still thrilled. I loved being a mom to Harry, and I wanted to fill my life with being a mom. Nothing is more fulfilling than being a mother, than having a tiny human rely completely on you to take as great of care of them as you can. To see their little faces peering up into your’s, those chubby little fists curling around your fingers to stay as close and connected as possible. Babies are magic, pure magic, and I look forward to someday having even more. Hopefully, not in such quick succession - I would be happy to wait at least three or four years between these pregnancies. Because lets be very straight - having twins freaking ruined my body.

And not in the gaining weight part - I have stretch marks on my ankles from how swollen I was. It took two months to be able to sleep in a bed again, postpartum, because it hurt so much between my hips as everything in my body is trying to get back to normal. I also have stretchmarks from my crotch to my boobs - I have no idea how my soon to be hubby sleeps with me, let alone still finds me attractive! But I guess that’s what being in love with someone you are truly meant to be with is all about.

My first ultrasound was around the twelve week mark. I had to go alone, due to conflicting work schedules, and as I laid on the table chatting with the friendly technician, I talked about how excited I was to have two so close in age. They will never remember a time without each other, and considering that my siblings are all so much older than me, I was excited about this. I always wanted to have a sibling close in my age, but my oldest sister is 19 years older than me, and the youngest is 5 years older though we were not raised in the same household. I was a product of my dad’s final marriage, his final kid. I think they realized they’d reached perfection and gave up after me :) I was telling the tech all of this, and how I was geeked for my tax return, being able to claim two newborns. That was when the woman started laughing at me. “Oh, you’ll get a big tax return all right,” she said as she turned the screen to face me. At first, I had no idea what I was looking at. It resembled an owl, with two circular eyes peering out at me.

“This is baby A, and this is baby B. You’re having twins,” she said cheerfully, as though it was the most exciting news on the planet.

“You have to be shitting me,” I responded, before promptly exploding into tears, mixed with laughter and a sense of dread so heavy that I felt like I was going to throw up. And it wasn’t morning sickness related. I was in shock when I left the office with my pictures of both embryos in hand. The first thing I did was go straight to my fiance’s house, where we both were so shocked and scared and excited that we didn’t really know what to say. We were both in agreement that we were hoping for one boy and one girl, and that way we would complete our family.

The next nine months were hectic. I was exhausted and sick, taking care of a growing baby while simultaneously growing two in my belly. I was a planet from very early on, and only grew faster and bigger from that day forward. I lived in sweat pants and my yogas were quickly turned into maternity pants by flipping the band up to cover my stomach. I went into prelabor a few times in the second and third trimester. I was terrified that something was going to happen to my babies, and I was taken off work in the early 30 week mark of my pregnancy. I had to take medicine to stop contractions. I couldn’t sleep anyway but upright with my feet propped up and my arms above my head. It seemed that baby B, who turned out to be my son Jonathan, was up in my ribs transverse. Michaela, twin A, was very low and enjoyed hiccuping on my cervix daily. It felt like Creed and Rocky were going at it in my belly, and it felt amazing and painful all at the same time. By the time I hit thirty-two weeks, I was visiting the hospital once a week to make sure that everything was ok - it seemed like I was going into labor constantly, and I was terrified that my water was going to break while I was home alone with Harrison, or something horrific was going to happen and I would lose the babies. The anxiety I felt, carrying two babies at once, was more than I can handle. But I did it, I perservered. And at thirty-seven weeks and four days, I was induced.

It took forever, as it had during my non-stress-tests that I had once a week starting at thirty-four weeks, trying to find both heartbeats. They had me double-strapped with monitors and wires, and it took two hours for the babies heartbeats to be found and stay consistently on the monitors. Once the pitocin started, I progressed quickly. I got an epidural, and things seemed to slow down. I had visitors in and out all day long, but my wonderful fiance was by my side throughout the entire thing. Feeding me ice chips, stroking my hair, doing whatever he could to cheer me up. The thing that hurt worse than the contractions rolling through my body was the catheter, which I finally demanded be removed. Shortly after, they were rolling me down the hall to the OR where I would deliver my sweet little twins. I was terrified - the sterile white room, the flock of nurses checking machines, wheeling things around, transfering me to a narrow table where my legs were put into stirrups. It was nothing like my first labor and birth with Harry, where my sisters held my legs and Goose cut the chord. The most wonderful sound was the shriek of my baby girl coming out, though she was quickly whisked away to the baby warmer where nurses hovered and wiped her down.

My doctor (Dr. Garland Scott, if you’re in Jackson, Michigan, is a fantastic doctor and I cannot speak highly enough about him!) tried to manually turn Jonathan around in my uterus, which is about as painful and awkward as it sounds. But Jonathan made his appearance into this world fee first, ready to go. We were disappointed with Goose not being able to cut cords, as he had for Harrison, but it all happened so quickly and I was so out of it that I don’t really remember. Even being in the hospital and trying to nurse was difficult. I couldn’t could to the bathroom, it hurt to sit on the little stool in the shower, and I had a flood of visitors coming to see me. It was overwhelming, but I wanted to share our special moments with the people that would love and cherish  my babies as much as I do. It might not work for everyone, but I was happy to see my family after such an ordeal.

Labor was difficult. Birth was difficult. I had to push two five pound babies out of my vagina in less than five minutes apart. I had second degree tears, I was miserable. And, less than a week later, I had to have an emergency surgery to get the left over product out of my uterus. I was slowly sinking into postpartum depression, which only escalated from there. It was complicated, it was a disorganized mess. But I am endlessly thankful for the support of my in-laws, who took us in without question and were more than happy to help with my recovery. It was nothing like this with  my first, and I was so scared the entire time. But once I held those sweet babies in my arms, gazing down into their innocent faces, I was in love. They were so sweet - they loved to snuggle, they held hands, they slept so peacefully. They were the perfect little humans to come into my life, as God intended. They say he doesn’t give you more than you can handle, and I’m slowly learning the truth behind that statement. Through medication and being honest and asking for help, things slowly got better.

Moving into our own home didn’t help at first. I felt like I was losing my mind at first, when my fiance would go off to work and leave me alone with three babies to take care of. I know it sounds kind of wimpy, but it was extremely hard work. Endless diaper changes, bottles to wash and fill and wash and fill. Laundry that I can’t manage to keep up on. But my babies have always been loved, cherished, and come first before anything else. Even when I was at my lowest, my most exhausted, I still woke up to take care of them. Or stayed away for days at a time to take care of them.

Having babies period isn’t an easy task. The pregnancy that was so hard on my body, the labor of pushing out two babies, then being sent home to figure out how to make it all work. I wish I had someone to tell me what to expect, someone to give me advice and to help. My family was very supportive, but its simply something I had to learn on my own. Things are beginning to look up - I manage to keep my house clean, dishes done, laundry is a constant work in progress, but my kids are clean, well dressed, and happy. And at the end of the end of the day when I’m laying beside my fiance, there is a certain amount of calm that settles over me and makes it all so, so, worth it. I wouldn’t have my life any other way.