01-30-05 - 12:37
saying hello, saying goodbye
When I came home, a moment before Ben came home, I didn't know what else to do so I checked the voice mail. It was my husband's dad "Don't forget, we want to be one of the first ones to know when you find out the sex of the babies on thursday!" -It took my breath away. I put the phone down and ran to the bathroom, crying. I fled from the bathroom when I saw the cruel reflection of my pregnant belly. Pregnant with dead babies. A complete mockery of my purpose here on earth.
After Ben came home and we cried together, we called all of our close family. Everyone was ill with sadness. We were so special to have twins, and now we were just tragic and unfortunate. I had to tell my pregnant sister, and not be fully sad. Although she was wonderfully compassionate, I felt I had to hold back because I didn't want her to worry that she would lose her much-wanted baby, too.
Ben's parents agreed- they would come right away. My parents were on their way too. We had called friends and they were going to watch our daughter, Abby, once she got home from Julie's (her babysitter).
We called the hospital. Although a "fetal demise" is not considered an emergency, the medical staff is sensitive to its horrible sense of urgency to the parents, so they arranged for us to have the babies that night.
As with all tragedies, the events were mostly a blur. I think we picked up my daughter and took her with us to the hospital, and then our friends came and got her from there. I gowned up. They started an IV and some unpleasant cervical suppositories to induce labor. They were giving me a whopping dose, because this time it wasn't a concern regarding keeping the fetuses safe- they were already dead. Of course, before all of this started I asked to see them once more on the ultrasound. Could this all be some horrible mistake?What if one was alive? I couldn't bear the thought if I had bore them and there was still a chance for their survival. Sadly and predictably, the ultrasound reconfirmed their demise.
Once our daughter was gone, we relaxed a bit. We even joked on and off. I had a couple of surreal moments when I felt that this was a happy occasion- I was giving birth- but then remembered that it was wrong. It should be November, not July, and the babies were most definitely dead. Even if it was some horrible mistake, once they are out of my body at 20 weeks they had no hope. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I was sick emotionally, a mother without her babies.
As the labor progressed so did the pain and anxiety. I was taking the pain medicine that was offered to me often, more as a blurring of events. Which worked quite well, I can't quite remember what happened during the night. I think Ben slept next to me on a horrible fold-away cot and I barely slept. A super nice nurse kept me company. I couldn't stand being alone. They had given me instructions on what would happen. They warned me that complete dilation and the pushing phase of labor could happen spontaneously, so I could have the babies at any time. I pleaded for the nurse to make sure I was not alone when the babies were born.
At about 10 the next morning I was starting to feel intense pains and had an epidural placed. I always pride myself on being a very forgiving patient, a very kind patient. The kind of patient I myself would want to have! (I am a nurse)-But I was such a bitch when the anesthesiologists came in. The student who placed it was just terribly insensitive and did not acknowledge why I was there and in pain. I hated her with a passion. That was just forshadowing, as since this experience I often just hate people because of their lack of understanding of what horrors I have been through. It's a poor me thing, I hate it.
Once the epidural was in place, I was at peace once again. They thought it might be a couple of hours before the babies came, so I told Ben to go see his parents in the courtyard with our daughter. He really missed her.
The minute after he left the room, my water broke. I was all alone. I called the nurse and told her to run after my husband, to call security, to get him back in here! She very hesitantly did as I said. I don't think she understood how important it was for me not to be alone. I don't really think I did either. Ben came racing back and sat down next to me in a chair. We both fell asleep for twenty minutes- without saying a word to each other. It was a strange time for that. I often wonder about the significance of the sudden and deep sleep we both dipped in to.
I awoke with a feeling of something coming out of me- and I knew it was "baby A". I called for the nurse and she came with a doctor and another nurse. She helped me by guiding the baby out. She said "Did you know the sex?" And I said I was pretty sure they were boys, she said "Yes, they were boys." My mother in law came in at that time and just started bawling. She knew they were boys, too. The nurse showed him to me, cleaned him up and put him on my chest, dressed and with a hat on. I waited- for a cry, for some jubilant indication of life- thought I knew there was only silence. That dreaded silence drug on forever. And then sobbing. My own, and Ben's, and our parents'. Baby B followed shortly thereafter. He was quite a bit larger and swollen. They were fully formed, which really shocked me. These were babies. I could see how they even slightly resembled their sister when she was born, although they were a lot smaller and had some significant discolorations. I can't believe people choose to have babies sucked out of them when they are this much alive. These boys had a whisper of a future that was fading fast as the blood and fluid were rushing from me. Time spent here was so very little, but precious.
We were attending the birth and death of our babies. How do you say goodbye to someone you just met? How long do you hold these lifeless bodies before you let them go? After a while, their warmth faded. They were just bodies, afterall. But it was so hard letting them go. Because we knew it would be forever.
