Part 2

It has taken 5 weeks and a myriad of emotions for me to write the next chapter of this story.  I felt like I was going through the stages of grief as I dealt with the news that I was in labor at 25 weeks pregnant.  My initial thoughts were, whatever was happening couldn't really be that bad. However, they quickly transformed into the familiar fear and anxiety I had felt early on in my pregnancy when I was first alerted to the risks of carrying twins.   I also felt guilt and anger, for the weeks of running around work, exhausted from the physical and emotional demands of my job.  I should have taken it easier.  I should have known that those tightenings in my stomach weren't normal.  I also felt anger towards my doctors for not prepping me for the warning signs of preterm labor and similar complications common in pregnancies with  multiples.

My recollection of that first week in the hospital is hazy, mostly due to the Magnesium drip I was on to stop my labor from progressing (I would not wish Magnesium on my worst enemy!).  The severity of the situation really hit me when the Neonatologist came down from the NICU and prepared us for what it would be like to give birth to twins at 25 weeks gestation.  I knew they were barely viable at that point.  Having worked in the NICU during grad school, I had seen what kinds of complications could befall infants born that prematurely.  I learned for every extra day a fetus stays growing in the womb, it is three less days spent in the NICU.  For every week, 3 less weeks in the NICU, and for every month, 3 less months in the NICU...not to mention a significant drop in long term complications due to prematurity.

At that point, about a week into my stay at the hospital, something I can only describe as "maternal determination" kicked in and  knew that I would do anything to keep those boys safe and growing in my belly for as long as possible (even if it meant going back on Magnesium!).

Fast forward to early July.  After spending 5 weeks in the hospital, I was deemed stable enough to be sent home on strict bed rest.  It is now almost 3 weeks later and we are all still hanging in there!  While it is much more comfortable to be on bed rest at home, it is still a physical and emotional challenge every day.  I have my dogs to keep me company and my family has been a great support, never leaving me home alone without a caretaker.

I'm learning a lot about myself, about my will and determination, and about what really matters in life.  I am reading a moderate amount (Anyone who knows me would think I would be relishing in this bed rest thing just for the opportunity to lay in bed all day and read!  Funny how when we actually get what we want it isn't quite what we thought it would be...). I have watched countless seasons of TV shows, movies, and documentaries (Thanks Netflix!). I have attempted any and all craft projects that can be completed with one hand while laying on my side and I think I am finally "crafted out".  I have "remote-set-up" the nursery with the amazing help of my Mom, best friend, and the use of Face Time (thanks Apple!).  Basically, I'm done, or ready to be done. The one small problem is that I may have weeks left to go...

While I'm trying to stay as positive and upbeat as possible (especially when well meaning people ask if I'm enjoying relaxing all day doing nothing), I continue to experience waves of other emotions, such as anger, frustration, and guilt.  I am frustrated at missing events such as weddings, birthdays (including my own, which was celebrated in the Hospital), births of friends' babies, anniversaries, and yes, even the opening of the final Harry Potter movie (although E did make me some amazing Butterbeer in honor of the event).  More than anything, I would love a haircut! And the ability to take a bath! And to be able to sit up while eating (I wonder, would that help with the constant reflux/heartburn?)  And to go outside!  And to cuddle with my husband!  E has been amazing through all of this, staying with me every night in the hospital, even though he got no sleep. I will never forget the time I got out of my hospital bed to take my 3 minute shower (literally the highlight of my day) only to find him half asleep on my bed when I returned, raving about how "this bed is so comfortable"!  Poor thing, if he thought MY bed was comfortable, then I can only imagine the awful rock he slept on for those 5 weeks.

Anyway, I digress, back to "emotions". Basically, what I am trying to say, is that these past 2 months have been an emotional roller coaster that is impossible to succinctly put into words for others who have not experienced it personally. That said, I have given my boys 8 extra weeks to grow big and strong in the safety of my womb, and that is a gift that will keep on giving for the rest of their lives!