When Caiden and Kaylie were born so early, I had not yet started to plan much of their future. I hadn't even found a doctor or daycare for them yet. I hadn't started to dream of their weddings or them becoming a doctor or lawyer (although we had talked about them becoming professional athletes). I hadn't designed the nursery yet. I hadn't put much thought into their Christmas presents. But I had started to plan for Halloween.
Every year we go a little more over the top with costumes for our animals. I enjoy dressing them up. I even enjoy all the eye rolling that I get from family and friends about the fact that we are dressing up our animals. Everyone has told us "If you do all this for your animals, I can't wait until you have kids to see how you dress them up!" With a challenge like that I had to start planning early! I was excited with all the fun possibilities for twin costumes. We had only known for a couple weeks that we were having a boy and a girl, so I had only started to think about costumes, but I had planned that there would be many!
Now that all of those hopes are dashed, I am having a hard time with the impending holiday. I bought a couple of figurines of teddy bears dressed in costumes - one boy (frankenstein) and one girl (a witch) and brought them to the cemetery. They are perched on the gravestone. But I really don't want to participate in Halloween this year. We have been invited to a number of parties, but I don't feel like dressing up and partying. I also don't want to invite trick-or-treaters to my house and give out candy. I just want to hibernate until the holiday is over. Maybe this is me avoiding my grief and it is unhealthy, but who wants to go trick-or-treating at the crazy crying lady's house anyway?
Perhaps I will get some last minute costumes for our animals and we can have our own private Halloween celebration. That way I won't look like a crazy lady if I cry, but I'm also not avoiding my grief.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
I am fine*.
It has been almost six months since Caiden and Kaylie were born. Every day is a struggle, but I am fine*. I think that I am coping relatively well. There is not an hour that goes by that I don't think about them. Sometimes I cry for all that we lost. Sometimes I laugh to myself about the good times (our reaction when we saw two heads on the monitor, our families' reactions when we told them the news). I re-live different events every day. Sometimes the good, sometimes the bad. I don't cry every day anymore, but I do still cry often. I have good times when I can accomplish a lot, and bad times when all I can do is put all my energy into a cause that will alleviate someone else's pain (i.e. knitting for An Angel's Love or planning next year's March of Dimes walk events).
I say "I am fine" with an asterisk because all of the above is true only in my little bubble. Anytime my bubble bursts, my "fine-ness" falls apart. My bubble isolates me from all of the happiness of babies. I have "unsubscribed" on Facebook from all of my friends who are pregnant or who had babies after Caiden and Kaylie were born (surprisingly it doesn't bother me too much to see the babies who were born before Caiden and Kaylie - I guess because those were better times). I have distanced myself from all of my friends who have recently had babies. I avoid stores as much as possible (apparently shopping is good free entertainment for young kids because they are everywhere at the malls and grocery stores).
Unfortunately, these measures are not entirely successful and not without cost. I can't figure out how to hide Facebook posts all together, so if another friend, who is not unsubscribed, comments on a photo of someone who is, the photo will still appear in my news feed. And Facebook is so "smart" that it thinks I would like to see ads about babies. I feel terrible about distancing myself from my friends. I want them to be happy for me when my time finally comes and I feel like I need to be happy for them now if I expect them to return the favor, but when I think about how happy they are (or even how sleep deprived and frazzled they are), it reminds me of how not-happy I am. I believe that they are understanding and will still be happy for me when my time comes even if I can't show them now how happy I am for them, but I still feel guilty.
In addition, my bubble has recently been weakening. My workplace is now full of men adding children to their families (thank God there are no women currently expecting). Soon I will have an empty newsfeed when I log into Facebook because I will have unsubscribed from everyone at the rate new announcements are coming. I can't avoid shopping forever; eventually I will have to get back into a regular shopping schedule. But I am fighting as hard as I can to keep my bubble in tact at least a little longer.
I am sure that this bubble will become unnecessary once I have held our next (healthy) baby in my arms, and hopefully long before that. But I am not there yet. For now, I am fine*.
I say "I am fine" with an asterisk because all of the above is true only in my little bubble. Anytime my bubble bursts, my "fine-ness" falls apart. My bubble isolates me from all of the happiness of babies. I have "unsubscribed" on Facebook from all of my friends who are pregnant or who had babies after Caiden and Kaylie were born (surprisingly it doesn't bother me too much to see the babies who were born before Caiden and Kaylie - I guess because those were better times). I have distanced myself from all of my friends who have recently had babies. I avoid stores as much as possible (apparently shopping is good free entertainment for young kids because they are everywhere at the malls and grocery stores).
Unfortunately, these measures are not entirely successful and not without cost. I can't figure out how to hide Facebook posts all together, so if another friend, who is not unsubscribed, comments on a photo of someone who is, the photo will still appear in my news feed. And Facebook is so "smart" that it thinks I would like to see ads about babies. I feel terrible about distancing myself from my friends. I want them to be happy for me when my time finally comes and I feel like I need to be happy for them now if I expect them to return the favor, but when I think about how happy they are (or even how sleep deprived and frazzled they are), it reminds me of how not-happy I am. I believe that they are understanding and will still be happy for me when my time comes even if I can't show them now how happy I am for them, but I still feel guilty.
In addition, my bubble has recently been weakening. My workplace is now full of men adding children to their families (thank God there are no women currently expecting). Soon I will have an empty newsfeed when I log into Facebook because I will have unsubscribed from everyone at the rate new announcements are coming. I can't avoid shopping forever; eventually I will have to get back into a regular shopping schedule. But I am fighting as hard as I can to keep my bubble in tact at least a little longer.
I am sure that this bubble will become unnecessary once I have held our next (healthy) baby in my arms, and hopefully long before that. But I am not there yet. For now, I am fine*.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Avoiding THE Question
THE Question: Do you have any kids yet?
Recently I was volunteering with some people I haven't seen in a while. I was catching up with one who I was pretty sure did not know our story. I danced around the subject of children as much as I could - focusing on where we were working now and joking about old times. I was so afraid that he would ask the dreaded question, but luckily we did not have a lot of time to talk so the question did not come up.
Also during this volunteering session, I saw an old roommate from a distance. She was there with her young son. I turned my face away as much as I could to avoid her recognizing me because I was afraid that she would introduce me to her son and ask if I had any children yet.
The problem is: how do you answer that question? There are three choices: no, yes, or yes, but they are in heaven. If you say no, you feel guilty for denying your children, but avoid any further uncomfortable conversation. If you say simply yes, you open yourself up to more questions (how many, how old, etc.). And if you say "yes, but they are in heaven", the mood of the conversation totally changes and both parties are likely uncomfortable: the other person doesn't know what to say, you just want to move on to the next topic.
I have read as well as heard from many people that it really does not get easier. This seemingly innocent question will always be hard to answer: how do you handle strangers asking the question? Do you tell people about your loss when you first meet them? If not, when do you tell them?
I have yet to be asked this question, but I dread the day that it happens. I'm not sure yet how I will respond. I guess it will depend on who asks it and the situation we are in at the time. Only time will tell...
Recently I was volunteering with some people I haven't seen in a while. I was catching up with one who I was pretty sure did not know our story. I danced around the subject of children as much as I could - focusing on where we were working now and joking about old times. I was so afraid that he would ask the dreaded question, but luckily we did not have a lot of time to talk so the question did not come up.
Also during this volunteering session, I saw an old roommate from a distance. She was there with her young son. I turned my face away as much as I could to avoid her recognizing me because I was afraid that she would introduce me to her son and ask if I had any children yet.
The problem is: how do you answer that question? There are three choices: no, yes, or yes, but they are in heaven. If you say no, you feel guilty for denying your children, but avoid any further uncomfortable conversation. If you say simply yes, you open yourself up to more questions (how many, how old, etc.). And if you say "yes, but they are in heaven", the mood of the conversation totally changes and both parties are likely uncomfortable: the other person doesn't know what to say, you just want to move on to the next topic.
I have read as well as heard from many people that it really does not get easier. This seemingly innocent question will always be hard to answer: how do you handle strangers asking the question? Do you tell people about your loss when you first meet them? If not, when do you tell them?
I have yet to be asked this question, but I dread the day that it happens. I'm not sure yet how I will respond. I guess it will depend on who asks it and the situation we are in at the time. Only time will tell...
The D&C
The week after the walk I started bleeding heavily. I called my doctor and she told me it was probably just my first period after the pregnancy. She said it was nothing to worry about as long as the bleeding didn't get worse. But then it did...
The next morning I called my doctor's office at 8. They didn't open until 8:30 that day, so I called the on call number. Before I even explained my problem, the woman who answered the phone asked if it was an emergency. I tried to explain that it wasn't life threatening, but I did need to talk to someone. She said if it was not an emergency I needed to wait until the doctor's office opened a half hour later and call them. I reluctantly agreed and waited a half hour.
I called the doctor's office exactly at 8:30 and left a message for the doctor to call back. At noon, I still hadn't heard anything, so I called back. They told me that the message was on the top of the stack on her desk and she would call me back as soon as she could. Finally at 3:30, I got a call back. The doctor suggested that I make an appointment for the next day. The only doctor available at the time was one I had never seen before.
The next day, the doctor was not able to determine anything at the appointment, so she asked if I would wait around for the ultrasound machine to become available so that they could see what was going on. I waiting in the waiting room and watched a couple of happy couples go in for ultrasounds to see their babies. Then finally they were ready for me. One of the worst parts of the whole experience was laying there looking at a baby-less uterus. They did however discover leftover tissue and suggested that I have a D&C the same day. The doctor on call at the hospital happened to be the same doctor who had delivered Caiden and Kaylie a month earlier.
When I talked to the doctor before the surgery, I told him that I was supposed to leave for New York City the next morning. The day before Caiden and Kaylie were born, we were supposed to be at a baseball game. Since I was lying in the hospital, we were unable to go. The team had generously offered us four free tickets to any game in May to make up for the game we missed, but the upcoming weekend was the last opportunity for us to use the vouchers. The doctor said we would see how the surgery went, but if everything went okay, I could go on the trip as long as I promised to carry my cell phone with me at all times and know how to contact the nearest hospital.
When preparing for the surgery, the nurse asked for my weight to determine the amount of anesthesia needed. The last time I had been weighed was at my 20 week appointment, so I had no idea what to tell her. I made a guess and she asked how sure I was. I said "not very". (It turns out I was very generous with the amount of weight I thought I had lost, though I didn't find that out until a month and a half later when my doctor's office weighed me again.) The anesthesiologist came over and the nurse asked if he wanted to run any blood tests. He said "no, she looks nice and pink to me". I'm sure that he was very good at his job, but it was frightening how flippant he was being.
When the OR was ready for me, they tried to reach my doctor. He had told them he was going into a meeting and they should call him on his cell phone when the OR was ready, but then he turned off his cell phone. They ended up paging him over the hospital intercom. Meanwhile, I was trying to reach my husband who was still at work because I wasn't supposed to go in for surgery for another couple hours (another reason the anesthesiologist's flippant attitude terrified me, since they told me I couldn't go in for surgery until after 5 because I had eaten breakfast, and now they were ready to take me in at 3). I started crying and told them I couldn't go anywhere until my husband arrived. Luckily he only works just down the road from the hospital, and he arrived before they found the doctor.
In the end, they removed the "residual products of conception" and I came out of the surgery just fine. We left for New York City the next morning and had a very nice and totally uncomplicated trip. I carried my cell phone and the phone number of the nearest hospital with me, but never needed to use either.
The next morning I called my doctor's office at 8. They didn't open until 8:30 that day, so I called the on call number. Before I even explained my problem, the woman who answered the phone asked if it was an emergency. I tried to explain that it wasn't life threatening, but I did need to talk to someone. She said if it was not an emergency I needed to wait until the doctor's office opened a half hour later and call them. I reluctantly agreed and waited a half hour.
I called the doctor's office exactly at 8:30 and left a message for the doctor to call back. At noon, I still hadn't heard anything, so I called back. They told me that the message was on the top of the stack on her desk and she would call me back as soon as she could. Finally at 3:30, I got a call back. The doctor suggested that I make an appointment for the next day. The only doctor available at the time was one I had never seen before.
The next day, the doctor was not able to determine anything at the appointment, so she asked if I would wait around for the ultrasound machine to become available so that they could see what was going on. I waiting in the waiting room and watched a couple of happy couples go in for ultrasounds to see their babies. Then finally they were ready for me. One of the worst parts of the whole experience was laying there looking at a baby-less uterus. They did however discover leftover tissue and suggested that I have a D&C the same day. The doctor on call at the hospital happened to be the same doctor who had delivered Caiden and Kaylie a month earlier.
When I talked to the doctor before the surgery, I told him that I was supposed to leave for New York City the next morning. The day before Caiden and Kaylie were born, we were supposed to be at a baseball game. Since I was lying in the hospital, we were unable to go. The team had generously offered us four free tickets to any game in May to make up for the game we missed, but the upcoming weekend was the last opportunity for us to use the vouchers. The doctor said we would see how the surgery went, but if everything went okay, I could go on the trip as long as I promised to carry my cell phone with me at all times and know how to contact the nearest hospital.
When preparing for the surgery, the nurse asked for my weight to determine the amount of anesthesia needed. The last time I had been weighed was at my 20 week appointment, so I had no idea what to tell her. I made a guess and she asked how sure I was. I said "not very". (It turns out I was very generous with the amount of weight I thought I had lost, though I didn't find that out until a month and a half later when my doctor's office weighed me again.) The anesthesiologist came over and the nurse asked if he wanted to run any blood tests. He said "no, she looks nice and pink to me". I'm sure that he was very good at his job, but it was frightening how flippant he was being.
When the OR was ready for me, they tried to reach my doctor. He had told them he was going into a meeting and they should call him on his cell phone when the OR was ready, but then he turned off his cell phone. They ended up paging him over the hospital intercom. Meanwhile, I was trying to reach my husband who was still at work because I wasn't supposed to go in for surgery for another couple hours (another reason the anesthesiologist's flippant attitude terrified me, since they told me I couldn't go in for surgery until after 5 because I had eaten breakfast, and now they were ready to take me in at 3). I started crying and told them I couldn't go anywhere until my husband arrived. Luckily he only works just down the road from the hospital, and he arrived before they found the doctor.
In the end, they removed the "residual products of conception" and I came out of the surgery just fine. We left for New York City the next morning and had a very nice and totally uncomplicated trip. I carried my cell phone and the phone number of the nearest hospital with me, but never needed to use either.
The Walk (and a new friend!)
I mentioned the walk and our success before. Here are the details of the walk and the beginning of my relationship with March of Dimes.
The day we got home from the hospital, I found out about the walk and started thinking about walking in it. After recruiting some family members to participate, I signed up about a week later. We formed our team and started fundraising.
About a week before the walk, the Family Teams coordinator at the local chapter of the March of Dimes called me. She was calling all team captains to find out why they were walking. I gave her a brief synopsis of our story. I also indicated that I was interested in volunteering with March of Dimes doing something behind the scenes. She suggested we meet after the walk to discuss.
For our team walkers, we ordered matching shirts online at the last minute. There were six shirts, four different sizes, all the same color. I paid extra for rush shipping to make sure that they arrived in time. What I received was five shirts, three different sizes and four different colors. I called to have the order corrected and they informed me that they could not have them here in time for the walk. In the end, I was able to buy shirts at a craft store and have a local jersey maker screen print the design (and I got a full refund for my online order, but was not required to return the shirts they sent). On the back of the shirts we printed the quote "they gave so much for being so little, but Angels always do".
On the day of the walk, everything was so overwhelming. I felt like we were newcomers to a group that had been getting together for years. (I don't know why I felt this way - it wasn't like we were on the outside of a big circle of friends, I think it was just my emotions.)
My husband had to be to work by noon and we were concerned about him making it on time, so we got to the front of the line and walked very quickly. At the start of the walk, a marching band lined the walkway and played music to kick off the walk. All of the emotions of the past few weeks, paired with all of the effort coming to a head, welled up inside me and spilled over in tears. I cried the first quarter mile or so.
After the walk, we gathered to eat the food that was donated. The Family Teams coordinator came over to meet us in person. She mentioned that there was another mother at the walk with a very similar story to mine. She had lost her son at 20 weeks and 2 days less than two weeks before we lost our twins. She suggested that I try to find the mother to connect with her. I did not find her before leaving, but I found a teammate of hers. We were later able to connect by e-mail. It turns out that we both used the same funeral home for our babies' funerals. We found a lot of similarities in our stories and comfort in each other.
The day we got home from the hospital, I found out about the walk and started thinking about walking in it. After recruiting some family members to participate, I signed up about a week later. We formed our team and started fundraising.
About a week before the walk, the Family Teams coordinator at the local chapter of the March of Dimes called me. She was calling all team captains to find out why they were walking. I gave her a brief synopsis of our story. I also indicated that I was interested in volunteering with March of Dimes doing something behind the scenes. She suggested we meet after the walk to discuss.
For our team walkers, we ordered matching shirts online at the last minute. There were six shirts, four different sizes, all the same color. I paid extra for rush shipping to make sure that they arrived in time. What I received was five shirts, three different sizes and four different colors. I called to have the order corrected and they informed me that they could not have them here in time for the walk. In the end, I was able to buy shirts at a craft store and have a local jersey maker screen print the design (and I got a full refund for my online order, but was not required to return the shirts they sent). On the back of the shirts we printed the quote "they gave so much for being so little, but Angels always do".
On the day of the walk, everything was so overwhelming. I felt like we were newcomers to a group that had been getting together for years. (I don't know why I felt this way - it wasn't like we were on the outside of a big circle of friends, I think it was just my emotions.)
My husband had to be to work by noon and we were concerned about him making it on time, so we got to the front of the line and walked very quickly. At the start of the walk, a marching band lined the walkway and played music to kick off the walk. All of the emotions of the past few weeks, paired with all of the effort coming to a head, welled up inside me and spilled over in tears. I cried the first quarter mile or so.
After the walk, we gathered to eat the food that was donated. The Family Teams coordinator came over to meet us in person. She mentioned that there was another mother at the walk with a very similar story to mine. She had lost her son at 20 weeks and 2 days less than two weeks before we lost our twins. She suggested that I try to find the mother to connect with her. I did not find her before leaving, but I found a teammate of hers. We were later able to connect by e-mail. It turns out that we both used the same funeral home for our babies' funerals. We found a lot of similarities in our stories and comfort in each other.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Feeling Powerless
When I got home from the hospital, I felt completely powerless. I had lost my babies and didn't know why. I now had at least two weeks off from work on disability leave and nothing to do. Before leaving the hospital, my mother and I had decided that we would make things (me hats and her quilts) to donate to the hospital in appreciation of the items that had been given to our babies.
Once at home, I did two things: I started looking into March of Dimes and I started knitting tiny hats. I found that March of Dimes had a walk coming up in less than a month, so I threw myself into that. It gave me something to put my energy into and I felt like I was making a difference because I was raising money to help prevent tragedies like ours. I recruited a few walkers and started posting for donations on facebook. Incredibly, in about three weeks, with only six walkers, we were able to raise over $1,800!!
During those few weeks, I did some knitting, but mostly focused on the walk. However, once the walk was over, I needed to take up something else to help take away the powerless feeling. I started doing more knitting and started talking to others about it. A lot of people who I told what I was doing were interested in participating too. I found that we would soon have more items to donate than we could use for just a one-time donation, so I started thinking about making ongoing donations and forming an organization to make it happen. I worked on the idea with a friend and that's how An Angel's Love was born.
Once at home, I did two things: I started looking into March of Dimes and I started knitting tiny hats. I found that March of Dimes had a walk coming up in less than a month, so I threw myself into that. It gave me something to put my energy into and I felt like I was making a difference because I was raising money to help prevent tragedies like ours. I recruited a few walkers and started posting for donations on facebook. Incredibly, in about three weeks, with only six walkers, we were able to raise over $1,800!!
During those few weeks, I did some knitting, but mostly focused on the walk. However, once the walk was over, I needed to take up something else to help take away the powerless feeling. I started doing more knitting and started talking to others about it. A lot of people who I told what I was doing were interested in participating too. I found that we would soon have more items to donate than we could use for just a one-time donation, so I started thinking about making ongoing donations and forming an organization to make it happen. I worked on the idea with a friend and that's how An Angel's Love was born.
The Verdict
The afternoon after the funeral, I received a call from my doctor's office. The doctor told me that they had received preliminary pathology results back and that both placentas showed signs of bacterial infection. I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for the following week and I should find out more then.
At the doctor's appointment the following week, the doctor went through each line of the pathology report with us. Essentially four things happened, any of them could have happened first and caused all of the others: (1) my cervix dilated, (2) the membranes ruptured (my water broke), (3) Kaylie's placenta abrupted (separated from the uterine wall), (4) a bacterial infection formed from bacteria normally present in the birth canal (but usually prevented from entering the uterus by the cervix). The doctor suggested that perhaps Kaylie's placenta abrupted first, then the blood clot that would have formed between the placenta and the uterine wall would have attracted the bacteria, but said that we would probably never know for sure what happened. He said that placental abruption is a rare occurance and having had it happen once does not make it more likely to happen again. He also noted that whatever happened was likely caused by the extra stress of carrying twins and that a singleton pregnancy would be likely to have no complications.
A couple months later, we decided to consult with a high risk obstetrician to see if they could provide any more insight, so that we would be well prepared when we were ready to try again. This doctor had the same pathology report, but suggested a different cause. She also said that we may never know exactly what happened, but "the good news is" that it almost certainly happened because we were having twins ("a woman's body is only made to carry one baby, it's not made to carry multiples") and that we would likely have no trouble with a singleton pregnancy. She suggested what may have happened was that the babies were growing too fast for my uterus to keep up and the pressure forced my cervix to open a tiny bit, thus allowing the bacteria to enter. Once the bacteria was inside the uterus, my body detected an infection and, in an effort to protect me, initiated labor. She recommended cervical measurements weekly from week 18 to 24 next time around.
At the doctor's appointment the following week, the doctor went through each line of the pathology report with us. Essentially four things happened, any of them could have happened first and caused all of the others: (1) my cervix dilated, (2) the membranes ruptured (my water broke), (3) Kaylie's placenta abrupted (separated from the uterine wall), (4) a bacterial infection formed from bacteria normally present in the birth canal (but usually prevented from entering the uterus by the cervix). The doctor suggested that perhaps Kaylie's placenta abrupted first, then the blood clot that would have formed between the placenta and the uterine wall would have attracted the bacteria, but said that we would probably never know for sure what happened. He said that placental abruption is a rare occurance and having had it happen once does not make it more likely to happen again. He also noted that whatever happened was likely caused by the extra stress of carrying twins and that a singleton pregnancy would be likely to have no complications.
A couple months later, we decided to consult with a high risk obstetrician to see if they could provide any more insight, so that we would be well prepared when we were ready to try again. This doctor had the same pathology report, but suggested a different cause. She also said that we may never know exactly what happened, but "the good news is" that it almost certainly happened because we were having twins ("a woman's body is only made to carry one baby, it's not made to carry multiples") and that we would likely have no trouble with a singleton pregnancy. She suggested what may have happened was that the babies were growing too fast for my uterus to keep up and the pressure forced my cervix to open a tiny bit, thus allowing the bacteria to enter. Once the bacteria was inside the uterus, my body detected an infection and, in an effort to protect me, initiated labor. She recommended cervical measurements weekly from week 18 to 24 next time around.
The Funeral
As soon as the doctor confirmed that my water had broken, we started making funeral plans. I was too overwhelmed to think about it much, but luckily I was surrounded by people who could.
My husband called a funeral home. At first, the only option they offered was cremation, but after we talked to the staff at the hospital who told us there was no reason we couldn't do a burial, we called the funeral home back and arranged for a burial. My sister-in-law donated her cemetery plot to us (both she and my husband were given plots when they were teenagers by their mother), so that we didn't have to find a plot.
After that, I was asked what I thought of a number of ideas, and I agreed with whatever. My mother-in-law took the whole week off from work when we came home from the hospital and she made the majority of the arrangements.
Both of our families chipped in and paid for the entire funeral and made significant contributions for the headstone.
The funeral itself was lovely, but heart wrenching. Just seeing the tiny little casket broke my heart. We buried our babies with their bears (the day we found out the sexes, my husband went shopping and got them each a bear - one pink, one blue). We let them keep their hats and blankets and we wrote a note to each of them to go into the casket.
My husband called a funeral home. At first, the only option they offered was cremation, but after we talked to the staff at the hospital who told us there was no reason we couldn't do a burial, we called the funeral home back and arranged for a burial. My sister-in-law donated her cemetery plot to us (both she and my husband were given plots when they were teenagers by their mother), so that we didn't have to find a plot.
After that, I was asked what I thought of a number of ideas, and I agreed with whatever. My mother-in-law took the whole week off from work when we came home from the hospital and she made the majority of the arrangements.
Both of our families chipped in and paid for the entire funeral and made significant contributions for the headstone.
The funeral itself was lovely, but heart wrenching. Just seeing the tiny little casket broke my heart. We buried our babies with their bears (the day we found out the sexes, my husband went shopping and got them each a bear - one pink, one blue). We let them keep their hats and blankets and we wrote a note to each of them to go into the casket.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Delivery
Sunday morning was Easter. We were supposed to be visiting with my family (Saturday we were supposed to have taken the dogs to a Mets game, but we missed that). On Saturday, I had asked family members to bring my things to the hospital so that I could start to knit some hats for the babies. I started working on Caiden's early Sunday morning. After getting through a few rows, I felt a gush of water. We called the nurse who came in and checked on things. I don't have a good sense of time because everything was so overwhelming, but I am sure we waited hours for the doctor to come in. Eventually, the doctor came in and said that they were now sure that my water had broken (until then they were unsure) and that there was nothing more we could do and I would need to deliver the babies. They recommended inducing labor to speed things along so that I wasn't in labor for days. We agreed.
They gave me a pill to initiate the labor. While the medicine went to work, the family started trying to get someone to come and pray with us. Since it was Easter Sunday, it took a lot of calling to reach anyone. But all the calling eventually paid off... The hospital produced their chaplain who said a couple prayers with us. A short while later, the hospital also produced a Catholic priest who was tied to the hospital. Shortly after that, our church's deacon (whose son my husband grew up with) stop in and said a few prayers. After that, our old priest (who had moved to a new church) arrived to say prayers and give us a blessing. We joked that we were the most blessed people on earth that day because of all the praying and blessings.
After taking the pill, I started freaking out because I hadn't decided yet how to handle the pain of labor (I was only 20 weeks pregnant and labor had seemed so far away). The nurse told me I could have anything I wanted. They had been giving me Oxycodone for my back (it was very sore from the uncomfortable position I had been laying in), so I ended up requesting that in the end.
Just after taking the Oxycodone, I started shivering violently. The nurse quickly brought blankets from the warmer and wrapped me up. Unbeknowst to me, this was the start of labor. (What does shivering have to do with labor? I still don't understand it, but apparently it is a common sign...) After shivering for a few minutes, my water burst. The doctor came in and with one push Caiden was born. The doctor wanted me to concentrate on delivering Kaylie, so he would not let me see Caiden at first, but when it appeared Kaylie was not quite ready to make her exit, the doctor introduced us to our son. Just before pushing, the doctor had warned us not to expect our children to look like full-term babies, so we steeled ourselves for the unexpected. He looked nothing like what we had prepared ourselves for; I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes: other than being off-pigmented (dark) because of the early stages of development, he was a perfect looking tiny little baby with 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes, his mouth opened and he had a tongue! His little ears were in perfect proportion to his head. It was the littlest things that amazed me.
Kaylie decided to come into the world with a burst! When her water broke, it soaked the resident who was sitting at the edge of the bed (though my doctor had enough experience to back up). She was born 27 minutes after her brother. She amazed us with her strength by taking several breaths. Her heart beat for a while, though again I have no sense of time...
The priest who had given us the final blessing came back to baptize the babies. Then the nurse brought in tiny hats and small quilts. She put the hats on them and my husband wrapped them very meticulously in their quilts. Our wonderful nurses took the babies to get their hand and footprints and take pictures. (And when we asked for clearer footprints because my husband wanted to get the footprints in a tattoo, they went off and did more footprinting.) They also weighed the babies: Caiden weighed a little over 12 ounces and Kaylie weighed about 10.5 ounces. We were not ready to say goodbye, so we kept the babies with us for the night.
They gave me a pill to initiate the labor. While the medicine went to work, the family started trying to get someone to come and pray with us. Since it was Easter Sunday, it took a lot of calling to reach anyone. But all the calling eventually paid off... The hospital produced their chaplain who said a couple prayers with us. A short while later, the hospital also produced a Catholic priest who was tied to the hospital. Shortly after that, our church's deacon (whose son my husband grew up with) stop in and said a few prayers. After that, our old priest (who had moved to a new church) arrived to say prayers and give us a blessing. We joked that we were the most blessed people on earth that day because of all the praying and blessings.
After taking the pill, I started freaking out because I hadn't decided yet how to handle the pain of labor (I was only 20 weeks pregnant and labor had seemed so far away). The nurse told me I could have anything I wanted. They had been giving me Oxycodone for my back (it was very sore from the uncomfortable position I had been laying in), so I ended up requesting that in the end.
Just after taking the Oxycodone, I started shivering violently. The nurse quickly brought blankets from the warmer and wrapped me up. Unbeknowst to me, this was the start of labor. (What does shivering have to do with labor? I still don't understand it, but apparently it is a common sign...) After shivering for a few minutes, my water burst. The doctor came in and with one push Caiden was born. The doctor wanted me to concentrate on delivering Kaylie, so he would not let me see Caiden at first, but when it appeared Kaylie was not quite ready to make her exit, the doctor introduced us to our son. Just before pushing, the doctor had warned us not to expect our children to look like full-term babies, so we steeled ourselves for the unexpected. He looked nothing like what we had prepared ourselves for; I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes: other than being off-pigmented (dark) because of the early stages of development, he was a perfect looking tiny little baby with 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes, his mouth opened and he had a tongue! His little ears were in perfect proportion to his head. It was the littlest things that amazed me.
Kaylie decided to come into the world with a burst! When her water broke, it soaked the resident who was sitting at the edge of the bed (though my doctor had enough experience to back up). She was born 27 minutes after her brother. She amazed us with her strength by taking several breaths. Her heart beat for a while, though again I have no sense of time...
The priest who had given us the final blessing came back to baptize the babies. Then the nurse brought in tiny hats and small quilts. She put the hats on them and my husband wrapped them very meticulously in their quilts. Our wonderful nurses took the babies to get their hand and footprints and take pictures. (And when we asked for clearer footprints because my husband wanted to get the footprints in a tattoo, they went off and did more footprinting.) They also weighed the babies: Caiden weighed a little over 12 ounces and Kaylie weighed about 10.5 ounces. We were not ready to say goodbye, so we kept the babies with us for the night.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The Hospital
I called the doctor early the morning of Good Friday to discuss concerns. I was 20 weeks 2 days pregnant. The doctor told me the office was closed that day, so I should go to labor triage at the hospital and they would check me out. I told my husband that I would be going to the hospital, but he should not worry because I was sure it was nothing. We were beyond the risky time of pregnancy anyway. Nothing could be really wrong at 20 weeks. Plus, just three days earlier we had the anatomical ultrasound and everything looked great.
I got to the hospital, filled out paperwork, and waited for someone to check on me. All the while, I was getting more nervous that something might really be wrong. While I waited, I listed to the woman on one side of me take a non-stress test because she was worried that her 7th child who was due in a week or two had seemed to be moving less (the baby was fine the doctor reported), and the girl on the other side who was trying to decide whether her baby should go to the same pediatrician she was going to and her mother debating whether the baby's state insurance plan would cover everything (she was sure her insurance plan wouldn't cover a second generation). My husband called to say that he was going to come to the hospital as soon as he could leave work, but I told him not to rush and to call before he left because they would be doing an exam any minute and I would probably be leaving by the time he got there.
Finally a resident did the exam and found that I was several centimeters dilated with Caiden's amniotic sack poking through. She informed me that the hospital did not consider a baby to be viable until 23 weeks and there was very little chance I would make it that far. She said they would do an ultrasound shortly to see how the babies were holding up. My husband called around that time and I said "Are you coming??" (all I could manage to get out without breaking down). The ultrasound machine was brought in, but then was needed in the OR (apparently the hospital only has one mobile ultrasound unit??), so I waited... When my husband arrived, the doctor explained the situation. We saw the ultrasound and both babies were doing well with strong heartbeats. The doctor decided to admit me. I was placed into a special bed that raised my hips above my head to help keep the babies in.
Shortly after being admitted, one of my doctors (who was on call that day) came in to discuss our options: do nothing and see what happens, initiate labor and deliver the babies, undergo a procedure that would deliver the babies without us seeing them, talk to a high risk obstetrician. We chose to talk to a high risk obstetrician, who presented two additional options: take anti-contraction medicine (I was having contractions, though I didn't feel them) and try to postpone labor, attempt a "delayed delivery" in which we would deliver one baby, then try to stop labor and save the second twin. We opted for the anti-contraction medicine. We didn't want to do nothing and certainly didn't want to choose to lose one or both babies. In the meantime, my doctor had ordered that I couldn't eat anything for the rest of the day, so I forcibly fasted for Good Friday.
By Friday night we had several family members at the hospital with us. My husband, my mother-in-law and I played Uno (but I couldn't lift my head, so they had to tell me what the top card on the pile was and then I would hand them my card to top the pile). Saturday passed much the same. We had another ultrasound, which showed that the babies were still doing fine. However, it showed that there had been no improvement in our situation. I was still several centimeters dilated and Caiden's sack was still poking through. We contacted friends asking for their prayers. My husband told me "If you're not sleeping, you should be praying. Those are your only options."
We had some really special support in our couple of days there. My sister-in-law, who hadn't done any city driving since a bad accident several months before, drove herself to the hospital, braving a drive that even makes me nervous. My grandmother was with us the whole time, keeping my mother sane. My husband never left my side, except a few trips to the hospital chapel. My mother and mother-in-law were with us during (and beyond) all visiting hours. In addition, we had a couple of very special nurses.
I got to the hospital, filled out paperwork, and waited for someone to check on me. All the while, I was getting more nervous that something might really be wrong. While I waited, I listed to the woman on one side of me take a non-stress test because she was worried that her 7th child who was due in a week or two had seemed to be moving less (the baby was fine the doctor reported), and the girl on the other side who was trying to decide whether her baby should go to the same pediatrician she was going to and her mother debating whether the baby's state insurance plan would cover everything (she was sure her insurance plan wouldn't cover a second generation). My husband called to say that he was going to come to the hospital as soon as he could leave work, but I told him not to rush and to call before he left because they would be doing an exam any minute and I would probably be leaving by the time he got there.
Finally a resident did the exam and found that I was several centimeters dilated with Caiden's amniotic sack poking through. She informed me that the hospital did not consider a baby to be viable until 23 weeks and there was very little chance I would make it that far. She said they would do an ultrasound shortly to see how the babies were holding up. My husband called around that time and I said "Are you coming??" (all I could manage to get out without breaking down). The ultrasound machine was brought in, but then was needed in the OR (apparently the hospital only has one mobile ultrasound unit??), so I waited... When my husband arrived, the doctor explained the situation. We saw the ultrasound and both babies were doing well with strong heartbeats. The doctor decided to admit me. I was placed into a special bed that raised my hips above my head to help keep the babies in.
Shortly after being admitted, one of my doctors (who was on call that day) came in to discuss our options: do nothing and see what happens, initiate labor and deliver the babies, undergo a procedure that would deliver the babies without us seeing them, talk to a high risk obstetrician. We chose to talk to a high risk obstetrician, who presented two additional options: take anti-contraction medicine (I was having contractions, though I didn't feel them) and try to postpone labor, attempt a "delayed delivery" in which we would deliver one baby, then try to stop labor and save the second twin. We opted for the anti-contraction medicine. We didn't want to do nothing and certainly didn't want to choose to lose one or both babies. In the meantime, my doctor had ordered that I couldn't eat anything for the rest of the day, so I forcibly fasted for Good Friday.
By Friday night we had several family members at the hospital with us. My husband, my mother-in-law and I played Uno (but I couldn't lift my head, so they had to tell me what the top card on the pile was and then I would hand them my card to top the pile). Saturday passed much the same. We had another ultrasound, which showed that the babies were still doing fine. However, it showed that there had been no improvement in our situation. I was still several centimeters dilated and Caiden's sack was still poking through. We contacted friends asking for their prayers. My husband told me "If you're not sleeping, you should be praying. Those are your only options."
We had some really special support in our couple of days there. My sister-in-law, who hadn't done any city driving since a bad accident several months before, drove herself to the hospital, braving a drive that even makes me nervous. My grandmother was with us the whole time, keeping my mother sane. My husband never left my side, except a few trips to the hospital chapel. My mother and mother-in-law were with us during (and beyond) all visiting hours. In addition, we had a couple of very special nurses.
The Name Game
Of course, from the name of the blog, you know the winning names, but pretend you don't for this story...
Once we knew the sexes, we started to decide on names. I had suggested early in the pregnancy the name Caiden for a boy. My husband loved the name Shea, so he suggested Caiden Shea. I liked it and the more I thought about it, the more it grew on me, so I thought we were set with a boy's name, until my husband said he wanted to name him Dominic. I was looking for a name with an Irish feel to match our last name (even though our Hayes actually comes from England), so I didn't like Dominic. We continued to debate about it while deciding on a girl's name.
My husband had always liked the name Mia for a girl, but I was never sold on it. I didn't mind Mia ask a nickname, but thought it was too short to be a full name, so I proposed all kinds of names that could have Mia as a nickname. He didn't like any of them. Eventually he offered that we could name our boy Caiden Shea if I would give in on the girl's name. He would even let me pick the girl's middle name. I really liked the name Kailey. Even though I didn't think Mia Kailey sounded great together, I decided I would get used to it eventually. Now it was settled; we had named our kids, but couldn't tell anyone yet since it would give away the sexes.
We started calling the babies by their names. Mia was quite active and one night I told my husband how she had been kicking me all day. Out of the blue he asked if I liked the name Mia Kailey. I told him that I didn't really and after a few minutes he said "what do you think of the name Kailey Jordan"? I told him that I really liked it. After some discussion, we changed the spelling: Kaylie to ensure that she wouldn't be called Kylie and Jordyn for a more feminine spelling.
Caiden Shea and Kaylie Jordyn
I still think these are the greatest names and can't imagine topping them when we name future children. One of my biggest heartbreaks in the hospital weeks later was the thought that I would never get to call them by their names. I had tested each name from every angle and even looked forward to chastising them with "Caiden Shea and Kaylie Jordyn!!"
Once we knew the sexes, we started to decide on names. I had suggested early in the pregnancy the name Caiden for a boy. My husband loved the name Shea, so he suggested Caiden Shea. I liked it and the more I thought about it, the more it grew on me, so I thought we were set with a boy's name, until my husband said he wanted to name him Dominic. I was looking for a name with an Irish feel to match our last name (even though our Hayes actually comes from England), so I didn't like Dominic. We continued to debate about it while deciding on a girl's name.
My husband had always liked the name Mia for a girl, but I was never sold on it. I didn't mind Mia ask a nickname, but thought it was too short to be a full name, so I proposed all kinds of names that could have Mia as a nickname. He didn't like any of them. Eventually he offered that we could name our boy Caiden Shea if I would give in on the girl's name. He would even let me pick the girl's middle name. I really liked the name Kailey. Even though I didn't think Mia Kailey sounded great together, I decided I would get used to it eventually. Now it was settled; we had named our kids, but couldn't tell anyone yet since it would give away the sexes.
We started calling the babies by their names. Mia was quite active and one night I told my husband how she had been kicking me all day. Out of the blue he asked if I liked the name Mia Kailey. I told him that I didn't really and after a few minutes he said "what do you think of the name Kailey Jordan"? I told him that I really liked it. After some discussion, we changed the spelling: Kaylie to ensure that she wouldn't be called Kylie and Jordyn for a more feminine spelling.
Caiden Shea and Kaylie Jordyn
I still think these are the greatest names and can't imagine topping them when we name future children. One of my biggest heartbreaks in the hospital weeks later was the thought that I would never get to call them by their names. I had tested each name from every angle and even looked forward to chastising them with "Caiden Shea and Kaylie Jordyn!!"
Boys or Girls?
At 18 weeks, we went to the doctor for a very unexciting ultrasound to measure my cervix to make sure I could hold twins in. The measurement went well and I asked if we could look at the babies. The tech said that she could try to figure out the sexes if we wanted. We did, very much so! So she started with Baby B and announced "It's a girl!". Baby A was much less cooperative. Eventually, she was able to get a good enough angle to announce "It's a boy!"
My husband couldn't have been more happy. I was hesitant. My husband had declared that if the twins were one boy and one girl, our family would be complete. I had always wanted more than two kids, so this was disappointing to me. However, by the next day, I had realized that this was the perfect scenario: my husband was thrilled about having a boy, I was thrilled about having a girl, his side of the family had only girls, so they were thrilled about a baby boy joining the family, and my side of the family had only boys so they were thrilled about a baby girl.
A couple days later, we went to the Mother of Twins sale (a huge second hand sale of all things baby). The clothing was separated by gender and age. He immediately went to the boys' section and I went to the girls' section. We each enjoyed picking out items for our selected gender and left with a couple bags of clothes and one neutral toy.
However, our mothers were scheduled to come to the anatomical ultrasound scheduled for two weeks later where we had expected to learn the sexes, so we decided not to ruin the surprise and elected not to tell the family the sexes. This made for an interested couple of weeks while we tried not to give away our secret...
My husband couldn't have been more happy. I was hesitant. My husband had declared that if the twins were one boy and one girl, our family would be complete. I had always wanted more than two kids, so this was disappointing to me. However, by the next day, I had realized that this was the perfect scenario: my husband was thrilled about having a boy, I was thrilled about having a girl, his side of the family had only girls, so they were thrilled about a baby boy joining the family, and my side of the family had only boys so they were thrilled about a baby girl.
A couple days later, we went to the Mother of Twins sale (a huge second hand sale of all things baby). The clothing was separated by gender and age. He immediately went to the boys' section and I went to the girls' section. We each enjoyed picking out items for our selected gender and left with a couple bags of clothes and one neutral toy.
However, our mothers were scheduled to come to the anatomical ultrasound scheduled for two weeks later where we had expected to learn the sexes, so we decided not to ruin the surprise and elected not to tell the family the sexes. This made for an interested couple of weeks while we tried not to give away our secret...
Twins!
We elected to go through the first trimester screening (which checks for Down Syndrome and other chromosomal abnormalities) mainly because it required an ultrasound, which would be the only opportunity we would have to see our baby before 20ish weeks. Two days before the ultrasound, we had the 12 week appointment, our first opportunity to hear the heartbeat. The doctor seemed to be in a hurry, so we listened the baby's (singular) heartbeat for about 10 seconds. We left completely unsuspecting of what was to come...
Before beginning the ultrasound the tech explained the purposed of the test. She told us she would be looking for triplets, then when she saw the looks on our faces, she clarified "three chromosomes, not three babies!". As she began the ultrasound, she ran the wand across my whole belly to get oriented and then paused and said "Um... twins? Did you know there were two in there?" And then she showed us that there were really two! We were totally shocked! Very nervous, but very excited.
Telling the family became much more interesting... no one in our generation had twins! However, the most annoying question I discovered from non-family members: "Do twins run in your families?" How many twins are really born because twins "run in the family"? (Hint: very few) I dreaded having to answer this question for the rest of my life whenever I told someone I had twins.
I quickly started researching everything twin - I found special cribs, play pens, Boppies, names, clothes... I signed up for the Greater Rochester Mother of Twins Club to get support from local mothers who could give advice.
We started thinking about names, but it was too overwhelming to come up with 4 full names (two boys, two girls - they were fraternal, so could have been any combination of boys, girls, or one of each), so we put that on hold until we could find out the sexes.
Before beginning the ultrasound the tech explained the purposed of the test. She told us she would be looking for triplets, then when she saw the looks on our faces, she clarified "three chromosomes, not three babies!". As she began the ultrasound, she ran the wand across my whole belly to get oriented and then paused and said "Um... twins? Did you know there were two in there?" And then she showed us that there were really two! We were totally shocked! Very nervous, but very excited.
Telling the family became much more interesting... no one in our generation had twins! However, the most annoying question I discovered from non-family members: "Do twins run in your families?" How many twins are really born because twins "run in the family"? (Hint: very few) I dreaded having to answer this question for the rest of my life whenever I told someone I had twins.
I quickly started researching everything twin - I found special cribs, play pens, Boppies, names, clothes... I signed up for the Greater Rochester Mother of Twins Club to get support from local mothers who could give advice.
We started thinking about names, but it was too overwhelming to come up with 4 full names (two boys, two girls - they were fraternal, so could have been any combination of boys, girls, or one of each), so we put that on hold until we could find out the sexes.
The Pregnancy Test
We had tried unsuccessfully for several months entering December 2010. I was charting my temperatures, and toward the end of December when my temperature was supposed to be elevated to indicate that we were expecting, it started dropping .1 degrees per day for several days. I decided that must mean that we had been unsuccessful again, so I was oblivious to every sign that told me otherwise. On New Year's Eve, we went to dinner at Chili's and I was craving a big fat juicy slice of tomato. That didn't strike me as odd. On the 1st, I went to visit family. During the trip I started to notice soreness in my chest. That was what finally prompted me to take a test when I returned home. During the trip I had not had a private moment to talk to my husband about my suspicions, so I decided to take the test without telling him (since it was the middle of the day and it might not turn out positive anyway). As soon as I put the stick down, it immediately produced one very bright pink line (this first line was the one that was supposed to indicate positive). After a few minutes, it showed a second very faint pink line. I hid the test behind my back and brought it to my husband saying "I have a surprise for you". He said "Are you serious?" but upon further inspection was skeptical since the second line was so faint, so he went out to get a different type of test (the kind that shows a plus or minus). As soon as I took the second test, it showed a bright plus sign. We were so excited, but nervous - this was our first pregnancy, what should we expect? What would happen next? Would we have a boy or a girl? Would we be good parents?
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