Round Two

On February 20 I became mother to three babies at only 29 weeks gestation. They were born at only 2lb 7 oz, 2lb 9oz, and 1lb 10 oz.  Sorry that this post is rambley and confusing, but I will try to tell a quick summary of chaos of the last few months. One year ago we started the shots for our third and final IVF. As I sit here today I can’t quite wrap my mind around what exactly has happened since then. This year has been one of the most foggy, exciting, terrifying, and wonderful experiences. As I type this, my three beautiful babies sleep on the floor in front of me and I think back to the day they were born.I went the hospital because I just didn’t feel right. Said goodbye to the cats and told them I would be back in a couple of hours. Because surely the doctors would pat my knee and say everything was fine before sending me home. And that almost happened. After 40 minutes of monitoring our 3 little heartbeats the doctor did come in and say everything was fine. He just wanted 5 more minutes and then he’d send me home. Well Little Letter C our dear daughter decided to have some fun with the guy and let her heart rate dip dramatically twice. Only for a few seconds, but it was enough to get me admitted for the night just to be on the safe side. Dear Husband got me dinner and some trashy Hollywood magazines, before I sent him home. Why should we both suffer in uncomfortable hospital beds right? I settled in for the night with my magazines and a TV with crappy reception after turning the sound down on the fetal heart rate monitors - it can be quite loud with all 3 of them and one to measure any contractions. Soon afterwards I was interrupted by the doctor and 5 frantic nurses who came barging into my room. Without explanation they flipped my monstrous body on my back, covered my face with an oxygen mask, hooked me up to numerous IVs, and wheeled in an old ultrasound machine. The doctor scan my belly silently for what seemed like forever to a very terrified me. Finally he breathed a long sigh and said, “There it is.” Little Letter C was up to more shenanigans and upped the ante. I looked at the doctor and said, “I’m not going home again am I?” I settled in for a long hospital stay of bed rest that I had heard so much about from other triplet moms. But 2 days later at only 29 weeks, my body said enough (HELLP Syndrome the very worst of preeclampsia). I was warned that this could happen, but I was so naive. I really thought I would go to at least 34 weeks. Unfortunately I woke in the middle of the night to the worst pain ever and I have a very high tolerance for pain. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest - an 800 pound someone.  After many tests in machines that I didn’t have the energy to ask about, my two favorite doctors entered my room together. I knew it was over. 29 weeks and the babies were coming today.The C section was standard and I was able to be awake. I was much more frightened than I thought I would be. We ended up having about 16 people in the OR with another OR set up next door to which the babies would be brought for initial assessment. At 6:46, 6:47, 6:48 pm on February 20, 2007 our two daughters and son entered the world. My pregnancy was over and I was a mom. A mom to three extremely premature babies. A mom that was still in shock. A mom who had no idea what to do, to ask, or where to start navigating the NICU.While I wasn’t shown the babies right away in the OR, I was wheeled into the NICU on my recovery bed about an hour later. I was still pretty woozy and would like to say seeing my three little ones for the first time was a moving spiritual experience, but it wasn’t. I was lying flat on a gurney. My tiny babies were surrounded by nurses and doctors who moved aside for me to try to peek in their little incubators, but I could barely raise my head. I lied and said I could see them, but really all I saw were a couple of tiny bright red legs.Having a premature baby especially an extreme preemie brings out extreme emotions. Mainly guilt. I was the mom and it was my body that failed. My body failed me so many times when I was trying to get pregnant and it failed me again when trying to build healthy strong babies. I felt betrayed. Because my body failed, my precious little ones paid the price. It wasn’t fair that they entered the world so soon. It wasn’t fair that they had to be hooked to numerous IVs and oxygen, machines to help them breathe. Even their poor skin was so sensitive that we were barely aloud to touch them. On top of that was the guilt I felt for mourning my own loss. I mourned the abrupt end of my pregnancy. Selfish I know, but this was the only pregnancy I will ever have and I never got to enjoy it. I was afraid for so long. I just wanted to get to 28 weeks. I was finally at the point where I could relax and now it was over. I thought once I was pregnant, I would be able to look at pregnant women with happiness, but every day I passed pregnant women on my way through the birth center to the NICU. And every day I still felt sadness that that was no longer me. Plus I felt horrible for thinking about myself when all of my guilt really should have been with my babies. Our time in the NICU seemed to drag and speed by at the same time. There were some horrible moments that I will never forget and will never be able to remember without tears. On their 3 day of life receiving a middle of the night call (me in the hospital, husband at home) telling us our oldest daughter couldn’t breathe. She was being hooked to a special kind of vent. I hobbled my sore body down to the NICU about 200 yards. I should have asked a nurse to take me, but I just couldn’t. I arrived to see her tiny little chest vibrating and her ears covered with earmuffs to drown out the noise of the machine. It was horrible. I sat near her bed and sobbed.There was the time we were told our son had NEC (an infection in his intestines) and that he would not be able to eat for at least a week. We watched as he became so swollen from IV fluids that he could barely open his eyes. There was the time we were told our daughter had a brain bleed and there was nothing we could do but watch and see if it resolves itself (it did). There was the day we learned of our daughter’s minor heart defect.There were many many blood transfusions because their poor little bodies couldn’t make enough blood and struggled to breathe.On the other hand there were some beautiful moments. The first day I held our youngest daughter. She was so small. It was only Day 2 and the nurse looked me and asked if I was ready to hold her. I was shocked. You mean I can hold her already? They took her out of her incubator and placed her on my chest skin to skin and left her there for an hour. It was beautiful. Every ounce they gained was a celebration. Every increased feeding was a sign of hope. One day I entered our oldest daughter’s room to find her in a crib instead of an incubator. I could reach in and pick her up without the help of a nurse! There was the day they told me to bring in the car seats because it was almost time to go home.But probably one of the most important moments for me was the day I realized I could be a mom. It was at the end of my son’s NEC horror that I truly felt like a mom. For so long I had listened and asked questions but had always followed the doctor’s recommendations and felt like an outsider. But on this particular day, I didn’t. While surrounded by the medical team of about 10 during rounds I finally took charge. The doctors were explaining a certain slightly painful exam they wanted done, but it was too much. Too much for my little son who was just trying to fight off this stupid infection. Too much for my son who was on a vent since his body couldn’t seem to breathe on its own and fight an infection at the same time. Too much for my son who looked at my with such sad and hungry eyes.  Too much for me. I finally said, “No. Not my son, not today!” I refused the exam and gave a list of other things that would or would not be happening on this particular day. I think I surprised even the doctors. Of course it could be that I said all of this through a cascade of tears. But I knew at that moment I was the mom and I was calling all the shots. Not only was I making the decisions, I was finally comfortable in making them.Today we have been home for 3 months after spending over 2 months in the hospital. They are beautiful and incredibly healthy. We are only following one health issue for now - chronic lung disease - which is normal for extreme preemies. It simply means we must avoid all cold germs for this coming winter. Sadly if any of them get a cold we will need to return to the hospital. So for now we stay home only really leaving the house to go for walks and to my parents. It is hard sometimes not being able to show off the babies we have wanted for so long. But really it is also nice to hunkered down in our home and simply enjoy every moment with our new family. It has been such a long journey, but here we are. Yes here we are at the beginning of a whole new  adventure.