So I almost had my babies yesterday…okay, well not really.
but I did think that I might have my babies yesterday.
I’d been up since the wee hours, contracting & sick to my stomach. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say I love my husband now more than ever. The man cleaned up after me countless times, even stopping at one point a to smell a puddle on the floor and say, “Babe! This doesn’t smell like pee; it might be your water!” You get the idea. We were trying to push past the gross and stay positive. Around 5:30am, we decided to head into the hospital. This was how my labor started with Ames, and I didn’t want to labor long at home if this was the real deal.
I guess this means it’s time to be honest with myself & everyone else. The sisters are most likely coming via c-section. The double-breech presentation has virtually set the course for us. None of the doctors or midwives with whom I’ve spoken have ever caught a set of breech/breech babies vaginally. Although I’m a staunch advocate for home birth, I’m not comfortable attempting this one at home. As for a hospital birth, no OB will even consider an option other than c-section. So not only is a home birth out of the question, but a vaginal birth is most likely not happening, either.
It’s been a surreal process, getting used to the idea of having my babies pulled from me in an operating room. At some point, though, I decided to accept advances in medicine & technology as positive processes put in place to keep my family safe. I choose to believe in the medical model, the hospital for which I work, and the doctors with whom I’ve developed a relationship over these last few months. I’ve received an amazing amount of support from home birth midwives, L&D staff, and my doctor’s practice. I feel nervous but at peace about the way the sisters are to make their arrival.
Back to yesterday morning. My father-in-law pulled up the driveway a little after 6am to pick up a very sleepy but cheerful Ames. While Chris loaded up the carseat, the boy toddled up behind me as I wretched into the toilet. He cooed at me, smiling ear to ear and pointing like he’d discovered a new toy. Gross, kid! Get away from your sick Momma!
We hopped in the Suburban and headed to the hospital. Chris prayed for us while I sucked air through a wet washcloth soaked in peppermint oil… it’s my panacea for feeling yucky! We got to the maternity center and checked into a triage room. The monitor, the stretcher, the gown… the whole process is terribly uncomfortable! I don’t see how women do that for hours on end. Thankfully, the nurse let me get into a comfortable position on my side before hooking me up to the monitor. The twins were moving around a lot, but their heart rates were loud and fast and strong.
During one particularly proud moment, I motioned that I needed to get to a bathroom STAT. The nurse unhooked the monitor and followed me down the hall, cords trailing. Chris held my gown together. I barely made it to the bathroom before I got sick again. Chris held my hair back and murmured, “Good job, babe.” I sure hope he was proud – I was totally trying my best to barf with the best of ’em! Meanwhile, the nurse clucked in an almost motherly fashion, rubbing my back and getting me wet washcloths.
When our parade returned to the triage room, a doctor came in to check me. It was discovered that the speculum light didn’t work, and the bed wouldn’t break down. Chris snorted back a laugh…it was truly a comedic sight, me with my legs splayed out while different nurses came in to manhandle the bed. The doctor just rolled his eyes and patted my leg. He was great.
The verdict – I was barely dilated and my water was still intact. [Meaning: it WAS a puddle of pee that my husband mopped up earlier that morning, like he would a dog’s or our son’s. Good gracious.] My contractions weren’t getting any closer together or more intense, either. They offered to start me on IV fluids and give me some medication for nausea, both of which I refused. If they weren’t going to take the girls today, I just wanted to get home to my own bed. To be honest, I was a little bummed that I wasn’t in labor. I’ve never been through anything like this before. A good part of me is just ready for it to be over.
I came home and slept for a few hours, after keeping some Gatorade & toast down. Meanwhile, it seems that every single one of my (adult) family members has gotten sick – three different houses, three different cities. We cannot trace it to one person or meal or event, but we’re all feeling gross after spending time together this weekend. Hopefully, it’s a viral thing that will pass in the next day or so.
I know the girls will come when they’re ready. I’m feeling pretty miserable, but I’m trying to stay positive. They are still cooking and growing. I am thankful that we’ve all made it this far!
How about a picture of the belly, after all of my potty talk? Here we are this morning, at 35wks & some change… I’m feeling much better, but Chris is barely conscious. Don’t mind our comfy clothes, or the fact that our new dining table has no chairs. I ruined the plans for an Ikea trip yesterday morning!