Birth Story Part 1...

The days leading up to March 27th were pretty painful, both physically and emotionally. I was a nervous wreck the week of my induction. I was overcome by a feeling I could only describe as "impending doom". I was wrecked by not knowing what was going to happen and the fear of something happening to my girls. I just wanted them out! I will elaborate another day of my feelings and the tender mercies of this week.

The morning of the induction I woke up happy, happier than I had been in a week. I felt like we had made it! After all the nay-saying and overwhelming fear that Cora would die and possibly Elena as well, we had made it. She made it. We had made plans to spend the day with Sam and have dinner with my family before we needed to be at the hospital that evening. We were getting last minute things together when we got a phone call from Dr. Draper. He asked us if we could come to the hospital as soon as possible to get me started even earlier just to be sure he was around for the delivery. He had to go out of town Friday afternoon and really wanted to be there for the delivery (so did we). We called my parents and told them the change of plans and asked if they could come right away. I was sad that we had to change our plans with Sam (not that he knew) but I tried to cuddle him and say goodbye. He was unusually whiny and sad that morning. He was really clingy to Michael and didn't want me. It made me sad but I know that he loves me and that things had not been easy for him the last little while. His mommy just couldn't physically keep up with life.

We arrived at the hospital around 12pm. As we walked in, I had a sense of peace and excitement. We were here to have our girls and we had made it. I was about to do something I had never done, that I always wanted to do. Give birth! We were going to meet our girls in about 12 hours (yeah right, 12 hours!). We checked in and got settled into our room. The entire staff was wonderful! I guess you get special treatment when you are expected to deliver a baby who is not expected to live. Our nurse had a student with her that day. Boy did she get an education! The nurse hooked me up to the monitors. She got Elena on right away but had a hard time finding a good spot on Cora. With all of our non-stress tests, Cora was always wiggly and had a hard time staying on the monitor. She finally got her on (so we thought) and we rested while we waited to get started. I said a little prayer that Cora would tolerate labor and that I would not end up having a c-section.

A few readjustments of the monitors and several trips to the bathrooms, they brought in the ultrasound to verify the positions of my babies. One of the residents did the ultrasound and verified that Elena was still head down, locked and loaded. Our baby B was now going to be baby A. She would be born first. She moved over to Cora. The ultrasound machine was small and shadowy. She kept moving the wand over her body and questioning what she was looking at, saying she couldn't tell exactly what position her body was in. I very slowly started to panic. Very slowly. It didn't look like she was moving from what I could see but I wasn't that worried though because I could hear her heartbeat on the monitor at that very moment. The doctor said she was going to go get another doctor to take a look. I'm so grateful for the way she handled that moment. She knew Cora was not alive but never let on. She wanted to be sure. Had I been looking at the situation from the outside, I would have known to panic at that moment but the fact I could hear her heartbeat, I was still calm.

Another resident arrived. There were about five people in the room at that moment other than Michael and myself. I'm not sure who everyone was and why they were all there. She picked up the wand and started scanning, confirming what she was already knew, I'm sure. She scanned over Cora's little body one more time and pointed out the heart that was no longer beating. She said, "yes, here is head and her body curves around like this. And here is her heart. I'm sorry but I don't see a heartbeat for Cora." My world shattered but not instantly. I wasn't sure what she was saying. Everyone in the room was silent and looking at me to process what they had just said. It's amazing the thousand of things the brain can think all at once. To try and process something so unimaginable, to accept it but deny it all at the same time. I was thinking she was completely mistaken because she was just on the monitor! However, in an instant, the words she had just said slowly started to sink in and I began to cry. I tried to hold it together. I really, really hate crying in front of people. I sat waiting for the 'but'. But, she's fine. But, maybe I'm wrong. But, everything is okay. I knew what she had said but my brain could not comprehend it...

No! You're wrong! We are here. 

This is why we're here today, at 37 weeks instead of 38. To give her a better chance of being born alive.

She's fine. She was so strong this week. Her NST was the best it had been in weeks.

We just heard her heartbeat last night!

How did we just hear her on the monitor? When did she die? How could I have not known she died?

Oh, my sweet girl. We were so close.

We were so close. We knew that it could happen but we were so unprepared. Deep down I knew this was going to happen. I had so much anxiety and feeling of impending doom the days leading up to the delivery. I used my doppler every night to hear their heartbeats. I had a bad feeling the night before and got the doppler out and frantically tried to find Cora. I couldn't find her heartbeat easily but kept scanning over where I knew she hung out. I then heard a sound that put me into a panic. A very faint, very slow, irregular heartbeat. I yelled for Michael while still frantically trying to find her heartbeat. I thought there was no way that could have been her. It was too slow! I scanned again and found a very fast, strong heartbeat and I calmed down. I scanned to Elena and then back to Cora and thought everything was okay. What I didn't know was that I was listening to her dying. The first heartbeat was hers. The second was most likely mine. I initially had a lot of guilt. If only I had gone in when I heard that heartbeat...But, nothing could have saved her. She would have died during labor, maybe even on the way to the hospital. I couldn't save my baby girl. The second heartbeat was mine. We all thought, the nurse included, that we had her on the monitor. It wasn't her, it was me. I was tachycardic (high heart rate) when I arrived so they gave me two liters of fluid because they thought I was dehydrated. I remained in the 120s but got all the way to the 160s. I must have been really anxious. I was probably like that all week. It was me on the monitor, not her.

The doctor said they would give us a moment and go tell Dr. Draper. Michael and I broke down. We were sobbing. How could this have happened? It was such a cruel joke to make it so far and so close to meeting our sweet girl alive. My heart was broken and all my hopes for the next days, even weeks were shattered. I had dreamed of spending some time with her and even allowed myself to think we could take her home for a little while. Everything was gone in an instant. Dr. Draper rushed in and told us he wanted to be sure. He put me in a wheelchair and wheeled us down to the clinic to get a good look on the really nice ultrasound. I laid down on a familiar table, in a familiar room. A room that I had had a hundred ultrasounds. A room where we first saw Cora and were told there might be a problem. Dr. Draper put the wand to my belly one last time. "I would not say it unless I was 100% sure, it looks like Cora is no longer with us." He didn't have to say it. I could see it immediately when her perfect little body graced the screen. She wasn't moving and I could see her heart. Her very still, broken heart. It's funny how in a state of shock what one might think. I was still holding on to the ounce of hope that the first ultrasound was wrong. That we would get to the good machines and we would see her kicking away and having secret conversations with her sister. The last ultrasound we had of them, they were both head to head, cheek to cheek. It looked like they were planning mischief when they were probably saying their goodbyes. Dr. Draper wheeled us back to our room and told him how sorry he was. "I'm sorry guys, I thought we had it. I thought we made it." We picked 37 weeks rather than 38 because we knew the longer Cora was inside, the more likely she was to pass away. Not because it was dangerous inside but because she was already on borrowed time. He told us we could go home and wait and let Elena bake another week or we could do the induction. There was no way I was going home. I wanted Elena out. I was already so afraid something was going to happen to her and I was not about to live with that anxiety for a week. He told us that there was an increased risk that Elena could have some respiratory issues and increased bilirubin but nothing too serious. I was fine taking our chances. She was term after all. So we proceeded...