Our Twin Adventure
I've been putting this off for a long time. So long that I'm sure I have forgotten most everything. And in some ways I'm ok with that. Our NICU life was full of ups and downs. And the twins' arrival into this world was nothing short of an adventure. They are 15 months old now. Healthy. Strong. Beautiful. And we couldn't be more blessed.
There are things of course, I'll never forget. The IVs in Emmy's head and the PIC line in her neck. The stories of Isaac shooting poop across his isolette. The waiting. The delays. And finally, getting to go home with each of them.
Reading back through my blog posts from being pregnant, I had such high hopes of no bed rest and our children not having to experience the first of their lives in the NICU. But that obviously wasn't what God had in mind. At 33 weeks, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and my doctor put me in the hospital. Even at that time, I thought I would go longer, deliver later and not have to go to Houston and have my babies in the NICU. Call it naive. Or optimistic. My doctor, who had just delivered her own baby boy a few weeks earlier, began to slowly bring me to reality. She started to give us our options. On Thursday, she broke the news. Deliver in Lufkin and send the babies to Houston by themselves. Or go to Houston to deliver. Neither sounded real great to me. It had been a hard week of lying in the hospital bed, struggling to breathe, being inundated with people and questions, and I broke down. My mom showed up Thursday, and I lost it. I didn't want to go to Houston. I didn't want to deliver so early. I wanted my babies to be born healthy and full-term. But I knew Houston was my best option. Little did I know, it was our only option. That night Brian and I laid in my hospital bed and watched the Carolina Panthers game. Who knew this would be our last night without our babies?
Friday morning, Brian went on to work. And things started happening so quickly. My blood pressure was still really high, and my doctor put me on magnesium. A terrible, terrible torture for a huge pregnant woman. The nurses moved me into the labor and delivery room and hooked me up on this god-awful drug that made me feel like I was burning alive. I barely had time to call my parents and Brian before they told me I was going to Houston that day. By helicopter. Still being slightly out of touch with reality, I thought this was entirely unnecessary. Brian didn't quite realize the rush, either, and it took him forever to get to the hospital. The flight crew arrived to load me up. It was quite the experience. There was a BP monitor for me, IV, monitors for each of the kids, and they strapped me down to a stretcher. With my big belly protruding off the table, they wheeled me through Memorial, up the elevator and my mom and dad watched from the top of the CV tower as I took to the skies.
I have to say. It was pretty cool! Again, I'm pretty sure I had no idea how sick I was.
When I got to Woman's Hospital of Texas, they put me into an ambulance (another first!) and into the hospital. We were in a huge room, of course, all hooked up to monitors. Brian arrived a little later by car. I don't think we were by ourselves for more than a few minutes for the next few hours. We had another ultrasound, lots and lots of bloodwork and spoke with several different physicians. One physician went from head to toe of all the things that could potentially be wrong with babies born 7 weeks early. Terrifying. I think Brian and I just tuned her out. We were confident our kids would be born perfect. One concern we had with my blood pressure is that there was a possibility the docs would need to put me fully under during the delivery, and Brian wouldn't be able to be with me. Luckily, I was just under the mark, and Brian was with me.
We had told my parents, 'don't worry, we'll get down there, get stabilized and wait a couple of weeks before we deliver.' Oops. So mom and dad were on their way out of town, when Brian and I called to say we were going into the delivery room.
We were so excited. Despite the risks, despite the concerns, we were just so excited to be parents.
Brian got scrubbed up, and they put in my epidural. After all the blood work I had been through so far (I'm not a big fan of needles or IVs), it didn't bother me too much. It kicked in fast, and we were ready to go. I told the team of nurses, "Let's do this. Let's have some babies." A nurse snapped a few pictures as our team pulled both babies out. One minute apart. Hearing those first cries were miraculous. My first thought after Emily was out was that I could finally breathe! We didn't get much time to look at them as the nurses rushed them out the door. I sent Brian after them. Then I threw up.
I don't remember much about the next several hours. I had a really hard time in recovery. My blood pressure refused to go down. I remember telling Brian to turn the TV off because it was really loud. (It was actually all the beeps and alarms in the recovery room.) But I don't remember much else. Apparently, someone brought the babies through while I was in recovery, but I don't remember it at all. My parents weren't allowed to come see me, and mom said that was one of the hardest parts. Around 1 or 2 in the morning, I was alert enough to see the babies and my parents. I don't remember much of this either, but there are pictures. :)
The next day is still a little foggy, but Brian's dad, stepmom, mom and Mary Liz all came to see the babies. Around 6 p.m. that night I was well enough to go see them. I remember being excited to go see them in the NICU. I remember getting in the wheelchair. But I don't remember much about seeing them. Or if I even held them, which I think I did. That's one of my biggest regrets. I missed their entire first day of life.
I began pumping breastmilk while in the hospital. It was discouraging at first. Only a few drops at a time. One night, we were taking our tiny syringes of milk up to the NICU (I was on the 2nd floor, they were on the 3rd floor), and a doctor in the elevator with us said, "Oh, how sweet! Your colostrum!" You know you're in a hospital made for labor and delivery when...
Then next few days were a flurry of people coming in and out: social workers, nurses, techs, doctors, March of Dimes reps, even my flight nurse came to check on me. We were in and out of the room all day going to see the babies. Brian went home on Sunday, but came back with Mary Liz Monday morning after oversleeping. When they left that afternoon, I had another break down. Lack of sleep, stress over the well being of our children, and intense hormones got the best of me.
I was discharged late Tuesday night, and mom and I settled into our new routine of hotel rooms and coming to the hospital to see the babies. Leaving the hospital without my kids was one of the hardest things I've ever done. That's not how it's supposed to be done. When you give birth, you should get to leave the hospital with your baby. When I would come home for a day or so, it was the strangest feeling. It was like having these kids was all a dream. Of course, our conversations were filled with them, but the house wasn't. Even our dogs knew something was different. You can't imagine what a crazy feeling it was to sit on your couch and watch a movie with your husband, knowing your 2 week old babies were 2 hours away.
The next month was full of hopes, disappointments, cuddles, tears, pumping milk every 2-3 hours, feeding babies and being the best advocate I could for my kids.
We had an exceptional experience. The nurses were phenomenal. The neonatologists were intelligent and informative. Most moms take their babies to their first doctor's appointment a few days after being discharged from the hospital. I had a doctor's appointment every day. Each day, the neonatologist would explain E & I's progress (or set back). I'm so glad my mom was there to ask different questions, and just to have another set of ears listening to what was going on.
There were days full of guilt for not being able to bring my babies home like "normal" parents or that I couldn't carry them full term and had to subject them to NICU life. There were days I didn't want to leave them and go back to the hotel. There were days I didn't want to get out of bed, get dressed and go to the hospital. There were lots of days that the tears freely flowed. There were days I missed my husband, my home, Mary Liz, my dogs and my own bed. But on Saturdays when Brian would come to bring me home, there was guilt for leaving my kids behind and being at home without them.
But every day I was determined to do whatever it took to bring E & I home. Every day, I fell more and more in love with these two little fighters.They were so tiny. And fragile. And cute. And totally, wholly mine. Given to me by God.
Every day NICU life looked something like this:
7-8 a.m. Get up, pump, get dressed, get to the hospital
9 a.m. Wash hands, go into the NICU, get our ugly yellow gowns, douse ourselves in hand sanitizer, feed the babies
10 a.m. Put them back in their beds. Pump. Walk around a little bit,
12 p.m. Feed the babies. Pump. Eat lunch.
3 p.m. Hurry back for feeding. We were always rushed at this time. Pump
4 p.m. We would go to the waiting room, run some errands, or just hang out in the NICU.
6 p.m. Last feeding of the day for us. We would usually wait around for 7 p.m. shift change to see who the nurse would be. Pump. Then leave for the night. Usually we were so tired by the end of the day, we would grab some dinner and head back to the hotel.
There was triumph in every milllileter of breast milk they drank. Their first bottle was only 6 mils. And they struggled through every drop. Many times, they would fall asleep and need the rest pumped through their G-tube. Eight days after they were born, E began spitting up, a lot. I mentioned it to the nurse, and then headed home with Brian for the weekend. That night, we got the call that E had developed a staph infection in her gut. They took her off all of her feedings and gave her the nutrients she needed through IVs. Every 3 hours, when normal feeding time came around, she would wail. The most pitiful sound you've ever heard. Baby girl was hungry! But there were several tests that needed to be done. They needed to keep her stomach emptied in order to clear the infection. We don't know how she contracted staph, but it could have been so much worse. This infection was a mild one. She went without food for 10 days. There was talk of a spinal tap, which thankfully, never happened. She had a PIC line placed in her jugular, after two other attempts in her arms didn't work. It was a terrible sight. She lost a lot of weight and you could tell she was an unhappy little girl. She had those big green hospital pacifiers that she would suck like mad. One of the first days after the feedings stopped, she was crying so hard and for so long that the nurse begged the doctor to give E something, anything. They had these things called "sweeties" which essentially is sugar water that they give the babies before something major like a shot or something uncomfortable like an echocardiogram. Once they gave E a little sweetie on her pacifier, she calmed right down. Now that's my girl. Sweets make everything better! Especially when you're having a hard time. Once she began drinking milk again she made up for lost time. She was such a champ.
During that time, they also discovered three small holes in E's heart called VSDs. Praise God, they were small and located in a muscle that, for most kids, heals on its own. In our follow up visit in January, we learned that all three holes had healed. PTL!
Each day when we would talk to the doctor, she would start listing everything going on with E. A chest X-ray or an echocardiogram had been scheduled, how the stomach pump was working, that they had to move her IV to another spot yet again (sometimes in her little head which looked terrible and painful) and lots of other scary things a newborn should never experience. And then the doctor would say, "And Isaac is doing great." That was the way it was most days.
He continued to gain weight each day and consume more and more milk. There were hardly any issues with our boy, which surprised us. All my nursing friends told me about "wimpy white boys." That they are the ones that struggle more, especially when born prematurely. One Saturday night, we had come home and the nurse called. I was scared of what she was going to tell us since the weekend before they had called about E's staph infection. But sweet Mercy, our nurse, just wanted to let us know that ID had finished 6 bottles in a row! A major accomplishment.
ID made huge poopy messes in his isolette which always made us laugh. In fact, one weekend, Brian had come to see the kids and was changing ID. ML and I had gone for a walk and just as we came back, our sweet son shot poop all over the floor and a nearby chair. B just stood there in shock! ID had the sweetest smile and bright red hair. He made faces that looked just like his Daddy. He would have gone home after only 3 weeks but he was still so tiny and failed his car seat test. It was disappointing, but all in all, was much better for us because E still had a long way to go. Each preemie has to pass a car seat test in order to go home. ID failed his first after having just two minor apnea issues. Because of that, he had to go home on a heart and apnea monitor. E did as well. We hated those things. The cords would get tangled and if it came unplugged, it made the worst noises.
We did kangaroo care a few times, but not as much as I would have liked. One of the best times was getting to hold both babies at the same time. They both were so tiny they both fit perfectly on my chest. It really made me feel like a mom of twins, rather than just a mom to E and a mom to ID. On Prematurity Awareness Day, I got to hold them both again at the same time, and we got some great pictures. What a blessing!
The week before he went home, they moved ID into an open air crib. What a celebration! It was much easier to change his diaper and just see him. He was always swaddled in a thick halo sack with a blanket on top and a hat on, although he got really good and moving around enough to get the hat off.
Just a few days later they moved E into an open air crib and for the first time they could lay side by side in their own cribs! She was similarly clothed. We teased that they were in twin beds.
Mom and I would go to parent classes in the evenings or at lunchtime a couple times a week. It was informative and interesting to hear from the other moms, some who had been there for months already. One day, I was washing my hands outside the NICU with another mom who was telling me her story. I told her I couldn't imagine what she was going through and I shouldn't be complaining about being there because my kids were doing so well. She told me something that has stuck with me to this day. She said, "But this is your journey. And it's hard for you. Never compare your situation with anyone else because even though your trials are different, they are all difficult." Those words have helped shape my parenting and how I feel about other moms.
ID left the NICU the Monday before Thanksgiving. He was one month old. He stayed in the hotel with me and mom that night. Then we went back to Lufkin on Tuesday for his doctor's appointment on Wednesday. It was hard to leave E behind. But we knew we were one step closer to reuniting our little family. On Sunday, I went back to Houston by myself for a little one on one time with my girl. We were waiting on her final echocardiogram, but the neonatologist let us go home on Monday without getting the final results. We knew the three little holes in her heart were still there, and that we would have to follow up with a pediatric cardiologist in Lufkin. In some ways, it was bittersweet leaving the NICU with E. I knew I would never be there again. Knowing the people we met and the children we prayed for would leave too and we wouldn't ever know what became of them. We met so many amazing people. Moms and dads who fiercely loved their tiny babies. Nurses who were unmatched in compassion and dedication. Staff that showed us love everywhere we turned. But loading up my precious little girl into the car for the very first time and driving out of Houston was such a liberating feeling.
We did it! 38 days for E. 31 for ID. A life changing event that can never truly be put into words.
There are things of course, I'll never forget. The IVs in Emmy's head and the PIC line in her neck. The stories of Isaac shooting poop across his isolette. The waiting. The delays. And finally, getting to go home with each of them.
Reading back through my blog posts from being pregnant, I had such high hopes of no bed rest and our children not having to experience the first of their lives in the NICU. But that obviously wasn't what God had in mind. At 33 weeks, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and my doctor put me in the hospital. Even at that time, I thought I would go longer, deliver later and not have to go to Houston and have my babies in the NICU. Call it naive. Or optimistic. My doctor, who had just delivered her own baby boy a few weeks earlier, began to slowly bring me to reality. She started to give us our options. On Thursday, she broke the news. Deliver in Lufkin and send the babies to Houston by themselves. Or go to Houston to deliver. Neither sounded real great to me. It had been a hard week of lying in the hospital bed, struggling to breathe, being inundated with people and questions, and I broke down. My mom showed up Thursday, and I lost it. I didn't want to go to Houston. I didn't want to deliver so early. I wanted my babies to be born healthy and full-term. But I knew Houston was my best option. Little did I know, it was our only option. That night Brian and I laid in my hospital bed and watched the Carolina Panthers game. Who knew this would be our last night without our babies?
Friday morning, Brian went on to work. And things started happening so quickly. My blood pressure was still really high, and my doctor put me on magnesium. A terrible, terrible torture for a huge pregnant woman. The nurses moved me into the labor and delivery room and hooked me up on this god-awful drug that made me feel like I was burning alive. I barely had time to call my parents and Brian before they told me I was going to Houston that day. By helicopter. Still being slightly out of touch with reality, I thought this was entirely unnecessary. Brian didn't quite realize the rush, either, and it took him forever to get to the hospital. The flight crew arrived to load me up. It was quite the experience. There was a BP monitor for me, IV, monitors for each of the kids, and they strapped me down to a stretcher. With my big belly protruding off the table, they wheeled me through Memorial, up the elevator and my mom and dad watched from the top of the CV tower as I took to the skies.
I have to say. It was pretty cool! Again, I'm pretty sure I had no idea how sick I was.
When I got to Woman's Hospital of Texas, they put me into an ambulance (another first!) and into the hospital. We were in a huge room, of course, all hooked up to monitors. Brian arrived a little later by car. I don't think we were by ourselves for more than a few minutes for the next few hours. We had another ultrasound, lots and lots of bloodwork and spoke with several different physicians. One physician went from head to toe of all the things that could potentially be wrong with babies born 7 weeks early. Terrifying. I think Brian and I just tuned her out. We were confident our kids would be born perfect. One concern we had with my blood pressure is that there was a possibility the docs would need to put me fully under during the delivery, and Brian wouldn't be able to be with me. Luckily, I was just under the mark, and Brian was with me.
We had told my parents, 'don't worry, we'll get down there, get stabilized and wait a couple of weeks before we deliver.' Oops. So mom and dad were on their way out of town, when Brian and I called to say we were going into the delivery room.
We were so excited. Despite the risks, despite the concerns, we were just so excited to be parents.
Brian got scrubbed up, and they put in my epidural. After all the blood work I had been through so far (I'm not a big fan of needles or IVs), it didn't bother me too much. It kicked in fast, and we were ready to go. I told the team of nurses, "Let's do this. Let's have some babies." A nurse snapped a few pictures as our team pulled both babies out. One minute apart. Hearing those first cries were miraculous. My first thought after Emily was out was that I could finally breathe! We didn't get much time to look at them as the nurses rushed them out the door. I sent Brian after them. Then I threw up.
I don't remember much about the next several hours. I had a really hard time in recovery. My blood pressure refused to go down. I remember telling Brian to turn the TV off because it was really loud. (It was actually all the beeps and alarms in the recovery room.) But I don't remember much else. Apparently, someone brought the babies through while I was in recovery, but I don't remember it at all. My parents weren't allowed to come see me, and mom said that was one of the hardest parts. Around 1 or 2 in the morning, I was alert enough to see the babies and my parents. I don't remember much of this either, but there are pictures. :)
The next day is still a little foggy, but Brian's dad, stepmom, mom and Mary Liz all came to see the babies. Around 6 p.m. that night I was well enough to go see them. I remember being excited to go see them in the NICU. I remember getting in the wheelchair. But I don't remember much about seeing them. Or if I even held them, which I think I did. That's one of my biggest regrets. I missed their entire first day of life.
I began pumping breastmilk while in the hospital. It was discouraging at first. Only a few drops at a time. One night, we were taking our tiny syringes of milk up to the NICU (I was on the 2nd floor, they were on the 3rd floor), and a doctor in the elevator with us said, "Oh, how sweet! Your colostrum!" You know you're in a hospital made for labor and delivery when...
Then next few days were a flurry of people coming in and out: social workers, nurses, techs, doctors, March of Dimes reps, even my flight nurse came to check on me. We were in and out of the room all day going to see the babies. Brian went home on Sunday, but came back with Mary Liz Monday morning after oversleeping. When they left that afternoon, I had another break down. Lack of sleep, stress over the well being of our children, and intense hormones got the best of me.
I was discharged late Tuesday night, and mom and I settled into our new routine of hotel rooms and coming to the hospital to see the babies. Leaving the hospital without my kids was one of the hardest things I've ever done. That's not how it's supposed to be done. When you give birth, you should get to leave the hospital with your baby. When I would come home for a day or so, it was the strangest feeling. It was like having these kids was all a dream. Of course, our conversations were filled with them, but the house wasn't. Even our dogs knew something was different. You can't imagine what a crazy feeling it was to sit on your couch and watch a movie with your husband, knowing your 2 week old babies were 2 hours away.
The next month was full of hopes, disappointments, cuddles, tears, pumping milk every 2-3 hours, feeding babies and being the best advocate I could for my kids.
We had an exceptional experience. The nurses were phenomenal. The neonatologists were intelligent and informative. Most moms take their babies to their first doctor's appointment a few days after being discharged from the hospital. I had a doctor's appointment every day. Each day, the neonatologist would explain E & I's progress (or set back). I'm so glad my mom was there to ask different questions, and just to have another set of ears listening to what was going on.
There were days full of guilt for not being able to bring my babies home like "normal" parents or that I couldn't carry them full term and had to subject them to NICU life. There were days I didn't want to leave them and go back to the hotel. There were days I didn't want to get out of bed, get dressed and go to the hospital. There were lots of days that the tears freely flowed. There were days I missed my husband, my home, Mary Liz, my dogs and my own bed. But on Saturdays when Brian would come to bring me home, there was guilt for leaving my kids behind and being at home without them.
But every day I was determined to do whatever it took to bring E & I home. Every day, I fell more and more in love with these two little fighters.They were so tiny. And fragile. And cute. And totally, wholly mine. Given to me by God.
Every day NICU life looked something like this:
7-8 a.m. Get up, pump, get dressed, get to the hospital
9 a.m. Wash hands, go into the NICU, get our ugly yellow gowns, douse ourselves in hand sanitizer, feed the babies
10 a.m. Put them back in their beds. Pump. Walk around a little bit,
12 p.m. Feed the babies. Pump. Eat lunch.
3 p.m. Hurry back for feeding. We were always rushed at this time. Pump
4 p.m. We would go to the waiting room, run some errands, or just hang out in the NICU.
6 p.m. Last feeding of the day for us. We would usually wait around for 7 p.m. shift change to see who the nurse would be. Pump. Then leave for the night. Usually we were so tired by the end of the day, we would grab some dinner and head back to the hotel.
During that time, they also discovered three small holes in E's heart called VSDs. Praise God, they were small and located in a muscle that, for most kids, heals on its own. In our follow up visit in January, we learned that all three holes had healed. PTL!
Each day when we would talk to the doctor, she would start listing everything going on with E. A chest X-ray or an echocardiogram had been scheduled, how the stomach pump was working, that they had to move her IV to another spot yet again (sometimes in her little head which looked terrible and painful) and lots of other scary things a newborn should never experience. And then the doctor would say, "And Isaac is doing great." That was the way it was most days.
He continued to gain weight each day and consume more and more milk. There were hardly any issues with our boy, which surprised us. All my nursing friends told me about "wimpy white boys." That they are the ones that struggle more, especially when born prematurely. One Saturday night, we had come home and the nurse called. I was scared of what she was going to tell us since the weekend before they had called about E's staph infection. But sweet Mercy, our nurse, just wanted to let us know that ID had finished 6 bottles in a row! A major accomplishment.
ID made huge poopy messes in his isolette which always made us laugh. In fact, one weekend, Brian had come to see the kids and was changing ID. ML and I had gone for a walk and just as we came back, our sweet son shot poop all over the floor and a nearby chair. B just stood there in shock! ID had the sweetest smile and bright red hair. He made faces that looked just like his Daddy. He would have gone home after only 3 weeks but he was still so tiny and failed his car seat test. It was disappointing, but all in all, was much better for us because E still had a long way to go. Each preemie has to pass a car seat test in order to go home. ID failed his first after having just two minor apnea issues. Because of that, he had to go home on a heart and apnea monitor. E did as well. We hated those things. The cords would get tangled and if it came unplugged, it made the worst noises.
We did kangaroo care a few times, but not as much as I would have liked. One of the best times was getting to hold both babies at the same time. They both were so tiny they both fit perfectly on my chest. It really made me feel like a mom of twins, rather than just a mom to E and a mom to ID. On Prematurity Awareness Day, I got to hold them both again at the same time, and we got some great pictures. What a blessing!
The week before he went home, they moved ID into an open air crib. What a celebration! It was much easier to change his diaper and just see him. He was always swaddled in a thick halo sack with a blanket on top and a hat on, although he got really good and moving around enough to get the hat off.
Just a few days later they moved E into an open air crib and for the first time they could lay side by side in their own cribs! She was similarly clothed. We teased that they were in twin beds.
Mom and I would go to parent classes in the evenings or at lunchtime a couple times a week. It was informative and interesting to hear from the other moms, some who had been there for months already. One day, I was washing my hands outside the NICU with another mom who was telling me her story. I told her I couldn't imagine what she was going through and I shouldn't be complaining about being there because my kids were doing so well. She told me something that has stuck with me to this day. She said, "But this is your journey. And it's hard for you. Never compare your situation with anyone else because even though your trials are different, they are all difficult." Those words have helped shape my parenting and how I feel about other moms.
ID left the NICU the Monday before Thanksgiving. He was one month old. He stayed in the hotel with me and mom that night. Then we went back to Lufkin on Tuesday for his doctor's appointment on Wednesday. It was hard to leave E behind. But we knew we were one step closer to reuniting our little family. On Sunday, I went back to Houston by myself for a little one on one time with my girl. We were waiting on her final echocardiogram, but the neonatologist let us go home on Monday without getting the final results. We knew the three little holes in her heart were still there, and that we would have to follow up with a pediatric cardiologist in Lufkin. In some ways, it was bittersweet leaving the NICU with E. I knew I would never be there again. Knowing the people we met and the children we prayed for would leave too and we wouldn't ever know what became of them. We met so many amazing people. Moms and dads who fiercely loved their tiny babies. Nurses who were unmatched in compassion and dedication. Staff that showed us love everywhere we turned. But loading up my precious little girl into the car for the very first time and driving out of Houston was such a liberating feeling.
We did it! 38 days for E. 31 for ID. A life changing event that can never truly be put into words.
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