100 Days of Great Joy (and little sleep)

My pregnancy was rather easy, until it wasn’t. We were looking forward to welcoming our twin girls to the world in May. But at the beginning of April during an ultrasound scan, our doctor showed concern that the size difference between our girls had increased, and the smaller twin hadn’t grown much since the last appointment. After a trip to another hospital to see the twin specialist, it was confirmed that our baby girl had stage 1 IUGR, meaning she wasn’t growing at the rate she should be. Both doctors recommended we deliver the girls early via C-section. At 35-36 weeks, it was late enough that the major organs were developed, but early enough that the girls would be considered preemies. Not to mention Jada was only measuring at 31 weeks. The following Monday, it was confirmed: we would not be having May babies after all. Instead our girls would be coming just 4 days later on April 26.

The last few days before surgery were a whirlwind of washing bottles and baby clothes, finishing up work meetings (I was still supposed to have another month to do all this stuff!) and visiting my favorite restaurants for the last time in a while. Unfortunately, with two babies pushing on my stomach, I couldn’t eat that much without feeling nausea. In fact, that’s the most prevalent feeling I had during the whole birth experience: a great deal of pressure on my stomach which lead to extreme nausea during the C-section, not quite the way I’d imagined it all going down (coming up?), but with my dreams of a natural birth out the window, I didn’t know what to expect. All in all, it was a pretty straightforward procedure, and recovery has been much better than I imagined. 

I was wheeled into surgery at 8:30 am, while my husband, his parents, and a church friend waited outside. One of the big things I’d been worried about was the anesthesia, since I’d had difficulties with it in the past. Thankfully, the anesthesiologist was amazing; he had a very calm gentle manner that set me at ease. That said, it still took 3 tries to get the epidural in, I’m sure they know how hard it is to ask a pregnant lady to curl her back so that the spine is in the right position, but it happens every day. Once I was frozen, I didn’t know what was going on, except for the nausea I mentioned above, and feeling really cold. They told me when they were about to deliver the babies. And as they took them out I simply whispered their names over and over again like a prayer, like the way God spoke the world into existence.

The babies were born at 10:16 and 10:18 a.m. Gemma was 2300 grams, while Jada was only 1300. I wasn’t allowed to hold either of them right away. Gemma came out crying loudly, and my tears were flowing too. They brought her next to my head so I could see her, and she reached out to touch my face. It is a moment I’ll never forget. Jada, on the other hand, took a minute or so to start crying, which felt like eternity, and I was only allowed to see her very briefly before they were both wheeled out to their daddy. After that they started sewing me back up and I got to face the reality of the PICU. The babies were separated from me, and visiting hours were twice a day for only 15 minutes. I was supposed to be resting and recovering, but I was mostly worrying.

For our first visit, I was wheeled down the hall in a wheelchair to the baby ward. The girls were both in incubators and in separate parts of the room.  I couldn’t hold back the tears after my first sight of Jada with all the oxygen and feeding tubes in her body. It was a heartbreaking, but we knew our girl was a fighter who really wanted to be here, and I knew she was covered by a lot of prayers. By the next day she didn’t need the oxygen anymore, and we just had to wait for her to reach 2500 grams before she could come home. It took over a month. As for Gemma, she remained in the PICU ward but was much more stable.

 The day after their birth was my 37^th birthday, and I received the best birthday present ever: being able to hold Gemma for the first time. We stayed in the hospital for a week, and two days after we returned home, on May 5 we were able to bring Gemma home with us too. That first month was a blur of taking care of a newborn, plus delivering milk to the hospital for Jada to drink. We were allowed to go to the hospital for a few sessions of Kangaroo Care with Jada, which really kept me hanging on.

The day the girls turned one month old, we snuck a camera into the PICU to take pictures of Jada. After a major setback, she was starting to eat well and gain weight again, but we couldn’t wait to bring her home. It was so hard to have my heart in two places at once. When we got home from that visit, I was looking through the pictures, and I noticed a cross on the wall above Jada’s incubator. I hadn’t really paid attention to it when we were in the hospital, but seeing it in the picture reminded me of a parenting lesson I’m sure I’ll have to learn again and again: even when I couldn’t be nearby my daughter, Jesus was right there with her.

On June 4 our whole family was reunited as Jada finally passed the 2500 gram mark and was allowed to come home. Since then, the learning curve has been steep, the nights have been sleepless, and we couldn’t be more in love with our two sweet girls. The first time we placed them next to each other, they linked arms, hopefully a sign of a lifelong friendship for the sisters. We chose the names Gemma and Jada because these two girls are our precious treasure. G + J also stand for “Great Joy”. God has given us a wonderful family, and we are so thankful. I have treasured the cuddles and nearness of my babies in these first 100 days.

I think the biggest challenge for me is how to parent as a spiritual being. These early days are so physical, and I’m pushed to my limits often. Interruptions are the rule, and church seems a distant reality. There are whispered prayers and worship songs, but it’s so easy for me to fall into autopilot. Is the baby fed, changed, sleepy? Who’s crying now? How many hours has it been? Did I put on deodorant recently? Am I doing a good job? Am I missing out on anything? Who am I now that I’m mommy to these two little people? I don't know all the answers, and I may never. I'm not expecting to suddenly become a mommy blogger, but perhaps I'll have some more stories to share in the next 100 days.