Double the babies, double the love.. a birth story times two

It's April 4th...
And on this day in history...
1887 - Susanna M. Salter became mayor of Argonia, KS, making her the first woman mayor in the U.S.
1928- Author and Poet, Maya Angelou, was born
1968 - Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated at the age of 39.
1975 - More than 130 people, most of them children, were killed when a U.S. Air Force transport plane evacuating Vietnamese orphans crashed just after takeoff from Saigon.
1986 - Wayne Gretzky set an NHL record with his 213th point of the season.

Some things are of greater consequence than others. Some will wow the world when they happen, some will wow the world as they grow, and some will just always wow the world.

My daughters, Daphne Almeda and Andrea Danae were born on this auspicious day, too. They made a wow in the world upon their entrance, at least very locally, and they continue to wow our worlds. But God remains the only one who knows where their wow’s will happen and how big an impact they will have.

In keeping with my pledge to share my childrens’ birth stories- I now offer to you, the story of my daughters' births.

(originally posted on 4/28/2008 on our old website, but I’ve edited it since then, too.)

The adventure began on Thursday, April 3. The story beginning far too similarly to Dylan’s for my liking. I was leaking amniotic fluid. So around 2pm, our then family of 3, went to the midwife’s office. I was scared. Induction was a very real possibility. I knew that if my labor didn’t start on its own that I’d have to be induced because of the risk of infection when waters have broken.

A few rubber glove balloons and ph strips later, we were told that if labor hadn’t started on its own by 10am the next morning then an induction it’d be. The midwife gave me some homeopathic medicine to try and kick start the labor. I was doubtful but willing to try it because I was so desperate to have a different experience than I’d had with Dylan.

Within an hour of trying the blue & black cohash treatment, I started having contractions. I was excited but also aware that they might stop after I had the last dosing. So, I tried to enjoy the fact that I could be up and about and tried to get things done before the babies came.

Around dinner time I realized my back had been hurting pretty consistently, so I decided to lie down and time my contractions a while. Sure enough, they were 10 min. apart. A cautious smile began to form in my heart.

We called the midwife, as instructed, and she was willing to let us labor at home an hour more. But 5 minutes later, she called back after conferring w/ a fellow midwife and said I needed to get to the hospital directly.

This delivery was on!

We called our doula to let her know what was up and off we went.
We dropped Dylan off at his aunt’s house and with our energy, anxiety, and anticipation abuzz- we arrived at the hospital.

Once again, we were booked into room 301!! I’d delivered Dylan there, and when I was booked into the hospital a few weeks prior for premature labor, I was assigned room 301. And now it seemed I’d be laboring away with my girls there.

The contractions were consistent but definitely tolerable. I had wondered, since I hadn’t really gotten to experience a natural labor last time, how I’d be able to deal with early labor or if it’d feel significantly different than it did with Dylan’s induction.

It was completely different. And I was relieved and grateful.

At that point, the midwife declared me to be 2-3cm dilated. I was glad there was some progress already.

I was hooked up to the monitors, but had a horrible time getting both girls registered on the machine. This was a repeat of the experience I’d had with my premature labor at 33 weeks. Every last midwife, nurse, and I think janitor made their attempt at getting the straps lined up just right so that we could listen to both girls at the same time (ensuring both were indeed alive and tolerating labor). It just wasn’t possible with the machines there. So, finally, a doctor rolled in an ultrasound machine and verified that these two babies were indeed fine.

Once that was established, I was left to sleep as I’d need my strength soon.

As any woman (or dear husband who’s stood by them) can tell you, sleep is basically a joke at this point. Nevertheless, I tried really hard to relax between the contractions and for lack of a better explanation, take mini-naps, as best I could.

Around 3am, I rolled over in the bed. As I turned from one side to the other I felt a strange sensation that I swear I could hear- it was a series of little pops, then like someone had pulled a switch, a huge rush of water spilled out of me. I thought, OH, my water has REALLY broken now! Trying not to move and get everything on the bed drenched, I hit my page button for the nurse.

She came in and helped me get cleaned up. I knew that often times after waters break (or are broken) that contractions can get much more intense. So, I called our doula and told her we were ready for her.

Ten minutes later, the contractions were already more intense, bearable, but more intense. Nevertheless, I was glad when the doula showed up so that I could have someone there to help me cope a little better, someone to distract me.

Danny was still sleeping when she arrived.

The next few hours crept by. The contractions gradually getting more intense and eventually I’d gone from being able to just pause and concentrate during conversation, to fully focusing on both relaxing between contractions and trying to relax through them. Towards the beginning of this period, Danny and I took the traditional stroll thru the halls of the ward, me stopping every few minutes to let a contraction pass.

We discussed the possibility of getting the tub set up for me to labor in, but as I recall, it never even appeared in the room in any form before it was all systems go.

I’m not sure of the timing of things but I remember that things had gone from me being able to concentrate on the doula’s voice and being able to get grounded again, to being able to hear her and not caring about getting grounded- just wanting it to be over.

I will admit, when things are that intense for me, I whine. I was whimpering, I was whining, I was a complete baby- but no judging me unless you’ve given birth, okay?

I remember that the doula was trying to get someone to come in and check me. I remember thinking that if they came in and found I was only 4 or 5cm that I’d cry and beg for the epidural. At this point, I felt some pressure below but not like I did with Dylan. I said I wanted to push, but felt like there was a long way to go yet.

Finally, someone (I think it was the OB) checked me and said I was 9cm & could feel the head.

Wow! I thought; we’re almost there. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.

Pushing commenced shortly and I was definitely ready for this part to be over. Soon, I realized my baby was leaving my body and I got to see her coming out and up onto my belly.

With her hearty cry, I cried, and my love for this little girl who grew within me began to multiply. It was 8:42am, and Daphne Almeda was born. Born in the same room as her brother three years before.

I was able to spend a few minutes with Daphne before the chaos of moving me to the c-section room ensued (a protocol for all twin births there).

I was wheeled down the hall on my bed into the glaring white lights. I had enough wit about me to make some remark about this being why Danny likes all the lights on in the house. He joked back that they weren’t even turned up all the way.

I remember being asked if I wanted to nurse Daphne a few times, and I understand why that is, but it was too strange to me to be in the process of laboring my second child out while nursing, so I passed on the chance. Sorry, Daphne.

I was told to take another dose of the cohash in order to re-start contractions. It didn’t take long.

I remember our doula standing next to me holding Daphne and telling her, “that’s your mommy and she’s trying to help your sister be born.” Or something like that. It was a surreal moment, to know that one of my children was out and in a sense watching me as I delivered her sister.

I remember the midwife telling me how this delivery would go. It would be a breech delivery, frank breech if I recall correctly. She explained how they wanted me to push and when. I remember thinking, I’ll try but I’m not sure how much I’ve got left to give.

I remember the pushing went pretty quickly and that in no time I was supposed to provide a huge push for which I had no energy to do. I thought- you’re just going to have to pull her out of me—and that’s exactly what it felt like was happening.

Again, I had the presence of mind to open my eyes and look down to see my second daughter crossing the threshold from my womb to this world. She was much more purple and covered in far more vernix than her sister, but she was mine and had a lusty cry and was beautiful. It was 9:24am, and Andrea Danae was born. Born down the hall from where her siblings had arrived and she entered the world so differently, it makes me wonder what else in her life will stand out so differently. It was weird to feel so privately in love, in the midst of such a crowded and busy room.

So, there I was, safely delivered of twins, naturally, and not even an IV in my arm.

Then, things started getting a little hairier. The placenta started coming out and it seemed they were having a hard time determining if all of it had come out. I was losing a lot of blood and while the midwife was doing her best to remain calm, I could tell it wasn’t all normal. I was given a shot of pitocin, then methargine, and then an IV was started so I could get pitocin intravenously. A regular external mashing of my uterus began, attempting to get it to clamp down and shrink up. It was awful.

Eventually, things were calmed down and cleaned up enough so that I could be moved to a recovery room.

I don’t remember a whole lot about those few hours afterwards. I think I tried to nurse my girls. I do remember that I was dizzy, very dizzy. At one point, I tried to sit up so that I could go to the bathroom and just sitting up in the bed had my ears ringing and my vision blackening out.

Over the next couple days it got slowly better but even when I was discharged my hematocrit was only 6.5.

It took me months, lots of iron, and eventually a d&c to get it stable and me back to normal.

The original title of the post I’d made back in 2008 was Two Beauties and a Beast. That’s still pretty accurate. Daphne and Andrea are beautiful inside and out and that dark phase after their births and before I recovered was certainly a beast.

I don’t know what waits for them in life. I don’t know what their beautiful moments will be and I don’t know what their beasty moments will be. But I do know, as much as it’s possible, I will be there to fight for them so that they can become who they’re meant to be.

Their birth taught me that I can’t get through this life on my own, but that I’m stronger than I think. And, if I have people who love me to support me, and a heaping helping from heaven, that impossible things become real.

Happy Birthday, my darlings. This story if for you with love Daphne, and for you with love Andrea.