The boys are wonderful. They are going really well. We've had several great days in a row, and Connor is looking like he might be on the cusp of getting bf which is very exciting. I will write more about the boys and special care in the coming posts, but I thought it was time to start my birth story before it slips out of my head in a wave of expressing enduced exhaustion :)
The day before the boys birth did not start out feeling like the day before their birth. It was exactly three weeks after I had first walked into the hospital for a check-up and had never been allowed to go out! But things were looking up. My blood pressure was perfect, my bloods were normal, and the small level of protein in my urine was still small. My doctor had kept saying "You've cured yourself!" And she had given the go-ahead, provided my growth scan was good, for me to go home, and just come in for regular check ups. After the initial fear had past (its sounds funny, but I had grown to be a bit dependant on the doctors and their daily checks), I was excited.
I don't think it really occured to me that Sebastian's scan wouldn't be good. Things were just so positive, I guess I just road that wave. I do remember praying that the scan would be clear, so the doctors could make the best decision.
It was our least favourite U/S tech.
She had actually warmed to us and we had warmed to her, so I wasn't as upset as I had been in the past. We looked at the boys. I began to get scared, for though all the health indicators were good, it was clear that Seb was smaller. The U/S tech told us the weight. He had not grown. Not even a little bit. In two weeks. The U/S tech excused herself, and I burst into tears.
I think I might have cried to Earl that I was sorry that I had been scared to leave the hospital, but that this was not what I wanted. I was so scared, so scared for our little boy. We had heard his heart beat every day, everything had looked good, but why had he stopped growing? I was so scared.
But God in his kindness brought an Angel. Named Dr S.
Now Dr S had seen us after our initial scary scan. I remember saying to Earl "I would trust anything she said". She had comforted us, she had spoken clearly, she had been amazing. And in she walked with a smile on her face.
"Congratulations! Nearly 35 weeks. You guys should have a Dance Party.
Yes, she really said Dance Party ;)
She explained that while Seb was small, he was mature. He wasn't a 30 year old baby, despite his size. He was a 34 year old baby who was small. All his indicators were healthy. And given where she had seen us first, at 22 weeks, she said we were in a very good place and our boys would be fine.
I walked out with a smile on my face. Yes, it was scary to have it pushed forward. But we had clear indicators that it was time to finish this pregnancy. And we were going to meet our boys. I actually felt excited.
Earl took a while to warm up.
Our doctor came in with the news, she wanted them out the next day. There was a little uncertainty, depending on NICU bed availability, but the assumption was it would go ahead. I began sending out messages to family and friends.
Earl hung out with me for the rest of the afternoon. We talked through the next few days, argued a bit about whether he should cancel his Friday night work commitment (HA- I look forward to reminding him in the future that he thought he could have done work the day after his Sons were born!). We also talked about our boys, about their names, about how we would tell our family. It was strange to think it would (probably) be our last night just the two of us. We talked and we prayed and we cuddled.
My Dad and my sister dropped by that evening. It was a special time. Sis and I just watched TV, but it was good to be together. After they all left, I had a shower, filled out paper-work for the C-section, then wrote our a prayer.
The prayer I wrote was about everything. My boys, the operation, but mostly about infertility. These boys, these miracle babies were about to be born. I just couldn't believe it. I don't like to say "it's all worth it", because it down plays the loss, and it never was a garentee while I was in the trenches. But it is true that these little babies, kicking in my tummy, were worth the six year wait.
I would have loved to go to bed early, and I would have loved it even more if I knew what the next two days were to be like. But the Midwife (who was awesomely one of my favourites) came in to confirm everything for the next day. I was to get up and be ready by 8am, because I was number one on the emergency c-section list.
I got to bed by about 11. I slept well. I still don't know why. Earl arrived about 7am, and we sat in my hospital room, and watched the sunrise. Ready to meet our boys.
Part 2- the Op- coming soon :)