Birth Story Part II...

The nurses came and got my Pitocin started at 2pm and we settled in to what would be our home for next 36 hours. I remember feeling numb and like I had failed. I was embarrassed. I thought failure and embarrassment were odd emotions to be feeling when your baby dies. I felt embarrassed to have to start telling people that Cora didn’t make it. I felt like I let everyone down. I was embarrassed to let myself think we had made it, that we would meet her alive. I failed her. If only I had gone in the day before when I was so worried. I knew it. I knew this was going to happen. It’s weird how so much can change in an instant. The world that I thought I would have, hoped I would have was obliterated. I had hoped to be among the lucky few to bring her home for a little while. I felt betrayed by the support groups I had participated in over the past few months. They gave me too much hope. For as much as we tried to prepare ourselves, we were still blindsided.

I called my mom, our Angel Watch counselor, Carolyn and our photographer, Brooke. Michael called his parents and asked them to spread the news to family so we didn’t have to say it over and over, Cora had died. She died. It didn’t seem real. I was deeply hurt and grieving my baby but all my focus shifted immediately to Elena. I was terrified something was going to happen to her. The residents and nurses came back in to check everything out. Twins are delivered in the O.R. to be ready for any complications. On an O.R. table, not in a uncomfortable regular L&D bed. If you’ve been on or seen an O.R. table you might wonder how that is even possible without falling off! I asked if it were possible, now that Cora was gone and Elena would exit first, if I could stay in my room to deliver. They said yes and I’m pretty sure that change made a world of difference.

My contractions started, so the monitor said. I wasn’t really feeling much yet. They came to check me (ouch!) after a few hours on the pit and I was excited to hear about the progress. “Your at a one!”. I guess I was supposed to be happy about that? Going from a fingertip to a one is progress, right? This would start the pattern of checking every four hours and only going up a half a centimeter each time, if that. I was certain after being checked a couple of times that it would all end in a c-section. I prayed so hard to avoid that but feeling extremely bitter at the time, I felt I wasn’t going to get what I prayed for. I remember feeling like a spoiled child and actually telling Michael I never get what I pray for, when it really matters. So I was completely prepared for a c-section.

I was having to get up every 30 minutes or less to pee because they had pumped me so full of fluid, suspecting I was dehydrated. My heart rate had been elevated from the moment I had been admitted. Thus began the dance of the beeping monitors and trying to relax enough to make it come back down. Around 10pm, I was only at 1+. Ugh. They kept asking me if I needed my epidural and I kept refusing. I still wasn’t feeling much. Then, they came in and told me they were going to insert a balloon catheter into my cervix and manually dilate it. I asked for my epidural at that point. I didn’t feel like I needed to feel any of that. The cervical checks were enough for me. My cervix is very posterior and high so I’m pretty sure it hurts me extra when I get checked, especially by a family practice resident who, bless his heart, was not sure which way was up.

The anesthesiologist came in and did her thing with no complications. Suddenly, I felt great. I really had no idea how uncomfortable I was until I wasn’t. I was trying to get comfortable in the bed and it just wasn’t happening but attributed it what I had been dealing with the last three months. I was hugely pregnant with twins and comfortable was something I hadn’t been in a long time. I got myself comfy and pretty much slept the whole night with few interruptions. I woke up to the nurse and doctor coming to check the progress the balloon was making. They said it usually will dilate to a four in four hours. After four hours I was a two. Boo. They said they would leave it in for another four hours and check again. I was even more convinced that a section was in my future. They said progress was progress and as long as Elena was tolerating it, they’d let me keep going. They also said I could just cut my losses and do the c-section any time. I said they would not be hearing those words from me. Fast forward another eight hours and little progress and I was seriously thinking of calling it but didn’t because I was not feeling the contractions. I was just mostly tired of laying in the bed and I was hungry! I couldn’t eat after I had the epidural (which is another reason why I didn’t want it so early) and I had enough illegally obtained jello. They finally realized it would still be a while and snuck me a very dry turkey sandwich. Nothing ever tasted so good. My energy was low and my anxiety was high but I just had to think about what cutting me open meant and I continued. 

After 12 hours, no matter how dilated the balloon made me, they had to remove it for risk of infection. After 12 hours they checked me again and I was a 2-2.5+ centimeters. Sigh. They removed the balloon and decided Elena was low enough to safely break my water. My feeling all along was once my water broke, things would start moving (hopefully). They broke my water and went back and forth about whether or not it was meconium stained. They decided it wasn’t but I suspect that maybe it was because of how compromised she was at birth. It was about 11pm now and I tried to sleep thinking it would still be a long time before we saw any babies. My family had just left after playing games and waiting and Brooke, my sweet, sweet photographer was in the waiting room. I felt terrible because it was such a long time for her.

I tried to sleep but when my family was there, I noticed my epidural wearing off of one side. My right leg became un-numb and I started feeling the contractions in one spot on my belly and I was starting to really hurt. The anesthesiologist came in to re-dose my epidural and I immediately started to feel nauseous and light headed. The nurse checked my blood pressure and it tanked to70s/30s (epidurals will do that). She called the doctor back in to get my blood pressure back up and I immediately felt better. I closed my eyes to try to get some more sleep. No go. My epidural medicine ran out and the doctor was stuck in an emergency c-section so it couldn’t be replaced right away. I started feeling a ton of pressure. Every contraction was more intense and I was dying for the doctor to come back in and get that epidural started again. I was gripping the side of the bed and Michael was talking me through the contractions, letting me know when the worst is over. After a while, not wanting to be a pain, I called the nurse again and asked her if the anesthesiologist was available yet because I was really feeling tons of pressure. She told me that epidurals don’t numb pressure, just the contractions. I had no idea I wasn’t feeling the contractions. She wanted to check me after that and I was dilated to 4 centimeters. It had only been a couples of hours since they broke my water and I dilated like I was supposed to! I felt like superwoman! Finally, some real progress. The pressure continued and I expected to dilate a centimeter an hour from then on so I knew it could have been another 6 hours but I was finally seeing the light. There was an end to this after all. The final hours got really intense but I didn’t feel like it was anything I couldn’t handle. 

One of the residents came in an hour after that and it was about 1am-ish. He asked how I was feeling and I told him about the intense pressure. He said he wanted to check me and the nurse told him she had just checked me an hour before and was at a four. He still wanted to check me. He checked me and raised his eyebrows and said “wow, you’re complete!”. I was shocked! Four to ten centimeters in one hour! I knew all they had to do was break my water! They asked me if I wanted to start pushing but I just wanted to let her come down more. She was still a little high and I wasn’t feeling any urge to push. After about half an hour the resident came back in wanted to do some trial pushing to see if she would come down more. I gave one good push and she came right down so we got ready to deliver her.

I was preparing myself for a lengthy marathon pushing session. My sister pushed with her first for about two hours. I suddenly had visions of it being 5 am before they were out. I had never done this before so I had no idea what to expect. Someone offered me and mirror, something I had not thought about until my super cute photographer told me how having a mirror when she was super numb really helped her see where she needed to push. It was exactly that. I could focus all my energy on one spot because I could see it. I gave one big push and Elena’s head was playing gopher. I suddenly regretted not working out while I was pregnant because I was already tired. I then thought about my sister again and wondered how I was going to push like this for an hour or more. Another contraction was coming and the nurse told me to push like I was pushing her into the floor. She was a little caught up under my pubic bone. The visualization really helped and she was moved passed the hang up. One more contraction and one good push and Miss Elena Kate was born at 1:58am. 

They laid her little (or big!) 6lb 12oz body on my chest. She was beautiful and we marveled how much like Sam, she looked. She was so much bigger than we thought she would be! I was grateful, although size does not equal maturity as we would find out in a minute. I held Elena on my chest and they prepared me to start pushing for Cora. I did not have mirror and I was told that was good thing. Cora who was previously head down, had flipped when Elena was delivered. Apparently, the doctor was up to her elbow inside of me trying to guide Cora’s little body out with doing as little damage as possible to her. Still holding Elena, they told me to give one little push and then to STOP! Her little legs were out and they were still doing their best to deliver unharmed. The skin of a stillborn is very fragile and the slightest friction can tear it very easily. I looked up at Michael and asked him if she was out yet. He nodded that she was almost here and I started to tear up. This was the moment I was so looking forward to and so dreading at the same time. They told me to give one more push and she was out. Cora was born at 2:06am. They laid her on my chest and I was instantly in love. I was holding my girls, together, for the first and last time. I was expecting to be a bawling mess but I was filled with what I can only describe as supernatural peace. My heart was full of so much love and I instantly knew we were not alone. It felt like there were so many people in that room when looking back, there were very few. Michael and I both have said that to us, it felt like she was born alive. She was so present in that room and I will never forget that feeling. 

Cora was so beautiful that I still had a hard time believing her tiny body was broken. She looked so much like Elena and I instantly wondered, if she were to live, how alike or different they would have become. She had a very slight club foot that you might not have even noticed if you didn’t know it was there. I remember trying breathe everything in because I knew I may not get to hold them together again.

Elena was on my chest and she started to sing. On the dreaded humming of a newborn. It’s very cute but as a nurse, I knew this was not good. Parents will tell me their newborns are so cute and all the do is hum and sing. This is not normal and indicates respiratory distress. I handed her over quickly but my heart broke having to split them up so quickly. I thought they would recover her quickly and give back in a minute but they told me they needed to take her to the nursery. It was exactly what happened when Sam was born so I wasn’t worried. My babies need those last few weeks for their lungs to mature and I immediately felt guilty for having her delivered early but looking back, it was the right thing to do and it was supposed to be that way.

 

Michael and I laid with Cora and examined every inch of her. She was so tiny…3lb. 7oz…but so perfect. She had big lips like her sister, lots of hair, and the most precious hands you have ever seen. I miss her hands the most and kissed them about a thousand times that day. She was my baby, my daughter and I already missed her. How I wish I could hold her just one last time. I get sad because the more time goes on, the less I remember how she felt in my arms and I knew it would eventually be like that so I was trying imprint her to my mind. I was already panicking because I was afraid of forgetting her.

36 hours of labor=one tired mama

Michael went with Elena to the nursery so it was just me and Cora for a moment. I asked the aid to go get my mom and have her come in. I would have let more people in but I was spread eagle, getting sewn up so that was not happening. She came in with a tear in her eye and I introduced her to Cora. My sweet photographer, Brooke, reminded me of something I had said when my mom came in. 

“I couldn’t be sad if I wanted to be. We all know what we wanted but His plan was better.”

What faith that girl had! I wish I could say I have always felt that way since they were born. I have dealt with normal feelings of grief and at some pit stops on this beautiful and awful journey, I have been angry. Angry with God because I had so much faith that he could allow her to be born alive. I had so much faith that He could have healed her and made her whole if He wanted to but we never asked for that. We just asked Him for a little time. Time to see her eyes full of life. To hear her sweet, little cry. To feel her warm skin. To have her sister feel her near. She never even saw my face. She never saw the mother that loved her and kept her warm and safe. She never saw the face that belonged to the voice that would sing to her and sister, You are My Sunshine. She never put a face to the beating heart that is forever broken because she couldn’t stay. But I still know, His plan was better. He knows us so much better than we know ourselves and I know there is a very good reason she passed away the day before she was to be born. 

Taking Elena away....

 

Kissing Elena goodbye...

I got cleaned up and ready to move to my maternity room. I decided it was a good time for them to take Cora and clean her up and get footprints, hand molds, etc. I hated being separated from her but my photographer was able to capture the sweetest pictures of her then. I cannot say enough about Brooke and how much it means to us that she was there. They had a hard time getting someone from Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep to come right away and by the time they got there that afternoon, Cora didn’t look as good as she did when she was first born. The hospital usually takes pictures too but they couldn’t find the camera and I was told Brooke was simply amazing directing exactly how things at that point should go and she captured pictures that we will treasure for the rest of our lives. Some people get really uncomfortable with pictures of babies that have already passed. If you are one of them, read no further. Pictures are all we have left of her and they remind us that she lived and they remind us that we will see her again. This separation is temporary and she is waiting for us, lucky girl.

As I was getting ready to move, a doctor introduced herself as a neonatologist from the NICU and I might have said a swear word in my head. Elena was in the NICU. Dang. I don’t remember a thing she told me but I do remember thinking, okay, she’ll need a little CPAP and then she’ll be back with us in a couple of hours. I was so wrong. They wheeled me down to the NICU to see Elena before taking me to my room. My heart broke when I saw her. She was on CPAP and had an I.V. already. She looked so fragile, I was almost afraid to touch her. It’s a different world when it’s your own child because I have obviously seen hundreds of babies in this condition and have not worried at all. Suddenly, I was worried about how she was going to come out of this. I was assured she was the biggest, healthiest baby in the NICU! I still have feelings of guilt because seeing her for the first time in the NICU, I almost felt like I didn’t know her. It’s hard for me to admit but I had been so worried about Cora the whole pregnancy that I didn’t get a chance to really know Elena very well. Inside, I was panicking that something awful was going to happen to her and that I wasted all the time, “not worried about her”. I did worry during the pregnancy that something would be wrong with her that we couldn’t see on ultrasound. I loved her fiercely but needed more time with her to get to know her and I was terrified I might not get that. 

We left the NICU, still thinking I would see Elena in a couple of hours, and went to my room to be with Cora again.

To be continued…

I love you, Cora.

 *I want to mention that the way I wrote this, it sounds like my labor was only about 12 hours. I left out sleeping most of the night before (thank goodness) after I got my epidural, visitors and more sleeping the whole next day and then things got moving the in the early hours on the 29th. My doctor predicted it would have been somewhere around 4am on the 28th when it actually was 2am on the 29th. So, 36 hours of labor but honestly, I was comfortable for most of it except the final hours. I would do it again a thousand times over. And, because it took so long, my awesome doctor was not able to be there and all three of us were devastated by that. He was amazing and came to Cora's funeral.