There are certain days in life that you'll always remember. The type of day that most other people wouldn't remember, or even realize that it holds significance for you. The type of day that you will always remember where you were when you got certains news, what song was on the radio, the smell that was in the air and not only the date, but the day of the week. For me, Monday, April 27, 2009, is one of those days.
It started off like every other Monday, me being miserable,swollen, exhausted, uncomfortble, not wanting to go to work, not feeling well in any regard, but powering through. The week prior I had a doctor's appointment and my gynocologist felt like I was dilating. I spent about 4 hours at doctor's appointments between her and the high risk doctor; with the high risk doctor, Dr. Smith, ultimately declaring that everything was fine and sending me home. From that point I knew that things were going to take a turn. I kind of already knew before that point too, just intuition I guess. I had already started getting my caseload in order for my coworkers who would have to pick up my slack. By April 27th, I felt like things at work were pretty much taken care of. I left work that day not feeling too well, but definitely not thinking that I wouldn't be returning the next day. April 27th is the day that I officially went into preterm labor. The day that I began my first stent at the hospital. The day that I was put on total bedrest. The day that I consider to be the first time that I truly felt like a mother. I know that sounds strange. Some people say that you become a mother on the day that you give birth. Some people say that you become a mother the day that you concieve, with all the sacrifices that a woman makes to take care of her unborn baby. For me, I was always the type of person to believe the latter. I sacrificed a lot to get pregnant, a lot to be pregnant, and I did think of myself as a mother from the time I found out that I was pregnant. Until April 27th. That was the day that I no longer just thought of myself as such, but I really felt it. At 23 weeks and 5 days pregnant I was having contractions and sent to the hospital. There I was, laying down in labor and delivery with doctors and specialists monitoring me and the girls. I was beyond horrified. Without giving the exact play by play that I can so vividly recall, I'll give the short version - I was given steroid injections to boost the girls lungs in case they weren't able to stop the contractions - I was doubled up on IV fluids and antibiotics - and I was put on Procardia, which is actually used as a blood pressure medication, but in this case it was used to stop the contractions. Luckily, the Procardia did the trick for the time being.
I lay in bed tonight, one year later, and I reflect on all of this. One year ago today, at this exact moment, I was in hysterics, terrified about what was to come, scared to death that my babies wouldn't make it. Tonight, I'm not quite in hysterics, but I'm emotional. I remember the exact room of labor and delivery that I was in. I remember the nurses and doctors that were on staff that night. And if I didn't remember, I have it all written down in a journal that I was keeping, which for some reason I feel the need to look back on and read - kind of like when you're sad and you can't help but pull out that old cd of the most depressing songs, then you listen to it, over and over and over again. Like a glutton for punishment I do look back on my journal, not that I need to. This date alone puts me back in that place. I can close my eyes and smell the hospital, feel the contraction monitor on my belly, hear the girls' heartbeats on the monitor and the crinkle of the paper as it would fold down from hours and hours of recording their heart rates - vivid, vivid memories - the things that aren't written down and can't be logged in my journal - they're all right there at the forefront of my mind. And when I cry tonight, it's for a very different reason. I cry tonight because just thinking about where we all were one year ago is still frightening. I cry tonight because in the next room I have two incredible, gorgeous, amazing little girls. I cry tonight because on April 27, 2009, I began feeling like a mother - and because today, April 27, 2010, I am.
- Mike and Amanda
- I am a 29 year old mother of identical twin girls, Madison and Melia. They were born at 29 weeks, 1 day gestation and spent 8 weeks in the NICU at St. Barnabas Hospital in Livingston, NJ. They hit 40 weeks gestation on August 20, 2009 and are now considered full term. Even though they are actually 11 weeks old, they are just now considered to be newborns. I started this blog as a way to keep friends and family informed on what was going on with the girls while they were in the NICU. It has turned into a keepsake and a therapuetic outlet. I hope that everyone continues to follow along and enjoys sharing this first hand experience of first-time parents of premature twin girls.
Words that I came to live by while on strict bedrest for 6 weeks during my pregnancy, 4 of which were spent in the hospital ~ Redirect the substantial energy of your frustration and turn it into positive, effective, unstoppable determination. Once you replace negative thoughts with positive ones, you'll start having positive results.
