A family of five
The doctor, as calm as can be, says, “Okay, we’re going to go have these babies. I’m going to go get the OR ready and I’ll see you soon.”
I remember sitting there and as soon as he left I just started crying. I just knew having babies at 24 weeks wasn’t good and I was scared for them. I regained composure and in talking with my incredibly supportive husband who somehow was being so strong for both of us, became okay. About 10-15 minutes later my contractions went from 0 - 100 in a second. I had felt my contractions prior to this and a few were uncomfortable but this was instant pain and labor.
When I was pregnant with Via, before we had to have a c-section, the nurses kept coming into the room asking how I was feeling and told me that when I was “ready” it would feel like I needed to poop. I never understood what they meant because I was stuck at 8cm with Via before having a c-section. Then, with the girls, the second that first contraction hit, I understood the feeling. I immediately yelled for Sean to grab the nurse. I knew that things could happen at a rapid fire pace and I was not going to deliver Baby A vaginally. With every ounce of strength inside me I held that baby in and didn’t give in to the “poop” sensation. All I remember is yelling (kindly but assertive…Sean says it might have been more assertive than kind) to get me into the OR NOW!!! What I have learned in therapy is that when I got that feeling of “needing to poop” it was the first time I was protecting my baby and I just knew I needed help.
They were able to rush me in and everyone moved very fast but with confidence and an ease that allowed me to stay focused. I wasn’t able to sit up for the epidural (which turned out to be good because if I had sat up, Baby A may have decided to come out), but once I got it, I could finally breathe and focus on getting my girls out safely. This was all happening during a shift change, and lucky for us, the whole NICU team that was getting ready to leave, stayed on to help our girls. So each baby had a full team hands on helping them!
Holding Montana’s hand in the NICU
Parker, right after being born - breathing and tiny
From the time a baby this size comes out, they have one minute to get a breathing tube down their throat and hooked up to the respirator. It wasn’t that they only have one minute or else, it was phrased, “the first minute is the most crucial.” I couldn’t see anything. So, after Baby A came out, they asked Sean if he wanted to go be with them in the other room. Without hesitation I said yes. Baby B was out seconds after (or so it felt) and Sean was able to be with them while they stitched me back together.
I was wheeled into a room where they monitored me for the two hours after the surgery. They made sure I was able to drink and eat something before letting me go back to my room. Once I was given the okay, I moved from the bed to the wheelchair to go see our girls for the first time. The NICU in Eugene is a special place. Our girls each had their own room but the middle of the room was glass so they could see each other. I was able to hold Montana’s hand for the first time but you’re not allowed to hold them for a while. They were hooked up to all sorts of machines and feelings of joy and sadness flooded through us as we looked at them. They are my babies, and they are here way earlier than expected, but they are perfect and all I wanted to do was hold them. They said in a few days we would be able to give them hand hugs, where you basically just rest your hand lightly over their chest. Because their skin is so fragile at this point, you don’t want to rub them or their skin could tear.
After spending some time looking at our precious girls we headed back to our room. This is when all of the arrangements and people started coming through. Since we live in Bend, the hospital has a Ronald McDonald house that you are able to stay in for free as long as your babies are living in the NICU. They told us about another couple with twin boys who were living there as well and said we’d probably meet them later. The lactation consultant came in to help me get started pumping. The girls wouldn’t be able to breastfeed for many weeks but if I produced any milk, they would be able to feed it to the girls. The NICU doctor came in to tell us how well our girls were both doing and then walked us through what the next 24hrs to first few weeks would look like. We signed some preemptive paperwork stating that IF the girls needed a blood transfusion, or anything other medical attention, they were able to do what they saw fit.
Even though there were many things that were not on our side, I think both Sean and I felt very positive about it all. We went to bed feeling good and starting to map out what we thought the next few months would look like living in Eugene, not Bend.
On Saturday, we woke up feeling excited. I think we were both still in complete shock that our baby girls decided to make their debut so early, but we couldn’t be happier to have them! We went to visit them in the NICU first thing. We didn’t get to touch either of them but were given good news that they both did well over night and were still looking really good. We celebrated with family and close friends via FaceTime and Sean went to get us yummy pizza and champagne. After all, we felt like we were celebrating!
Then, things changed.
At around 9:30 pm that evening we were on FaceTime with my brother and his girlfriend, when the NICU doctor walked in. We could immediately tell something wasn’t right. She let us know that Montana’s (Baby A) numbers weren’t looking great and she’d like to give her a blood transfusion to see if that helps. She said that they would know in about two hours if the transfusion did what it was supposed to and give us details on how our little girl would respond. This instantly brought on an entirely new view/reality of what was happening. I don’t think for a second that Sean or I even let a bad thought come through our minds once we heard the great news from Friday and Saturday morning. We are naturally positive and optimistic people and we just assumed we were now a family of five.
The doctor then mentioned that IF the transfusion doesn’t help even out her numbers, it most likely means she has a brain bleed. Because her skin is so thin and fragile, they weren’t able to see any bleeds anywhere else, which leads them to believe it’s in her brain. I can’t remember if she mentioned this before doing the transfusion, or once she got her results back. This is where everything went completely fuzzy and time stood still in the worst way. She told us that IF she has a brain bleed, she would come get us so we could be with her and hold her to say goodbye vs. her passing while hooked up to a bunch of machines.
I think Sean and I just sat there and cried. We were in complete disbelief and didn’t know what to do, think, or say. When you become a parent, you’re supposed to do anything to protect your babies, and there was nothing we could do. To say I felt helpless is beyond an understatement. But again, we wanted to hang on and still have hope that she was strong and was going to fight through this.
About an hour and a half later the doctor returned. More bad news. Parker’s (Baby B) numbers have dropped so they were going to start her on a transfusion. She said that Montana was responding well but they wouldn’t know for sure until her blood results were back.
I don’t believe in God. Even more so now as I can’t for the life of me imagine that if there was some being out there, that he/she would allow such unspeakable things to happen to our babies. I say this because, in this moment, I wished that praying to something would change the outcome of whatever was happening down the hall.
