Birth Story Part 5

So my beautiful babies were born.

Here are their first pictures and videos:

Emma, taken at 9:51 p.m. :

Olivia, taken at 9:44 p.m. :

I remember sitting in my hospital room watching these over and over, a million times. Because I had to be on magnesium for 24 hours post-partum, I was not allowed to go see my children in the NICU. Heartbreaking... it was the worst feeling in the world.

Because I wasn't allowed to see my children, I felt like it was only fair that nobody else saw them until I do first, except for Daddy, of course. Just looking at my family's face and seeing their anticipation ... I finally caved and let them go back one by one to see my children. (they still weren't allowed to hold them, per my request.) I know they were thankful, but looking back now, I totally regret this decision. I wish that I had stuck to my guns and been the second one (Allen being the first) to lay eyes on them. It only seems right in my mind.... they are, afterall, my children. I grew them and gave birth to them. Anyway, too late now for regrets.

So I'm still really unclear about their first 24 hours in this world. I know they had all sorts of lines hooked up to them, measuring BP (the cuff on their leg), HR (the gold sticker), pulse (the band around their foot), oxygen level (the band around their foot), etc. They also had an IV for the first 24 hours for fluid (this is the white looking thing on their arms). Remember they weren't allowed to eat until the magnesium had cycled out of their system. I know they passed meconium and were making wet diapers. They were able to breathe room air, for which I am most thankful. They were doing beautifully. I called the NICU probably every hour to check on them. The NICU nurses were very kind and understanding.

As for me, I was starting to feel bad again. I was still seeing floaters and my blood pressure was higher than ever. I was, however, starting to pass the fluid. Which was a good thing and a bad thing. Remember, I was drinking ungodly amounts of fluid and was never really getting rid of it prior to birth. So it collected on my legs, ankles, thighs -- the fluid was so high, it was up to my waist -- we know this because when you are swollen with fluid, your body will "pit" (aka make an indention if pressed) and I was pitting all the way up to my waist. My legs were HUGE. Before the babies were born, the fluid was really firm and equally distributed. After birth, the fluid became wobbly, for a lack of a better word. It looked like I had major cellulite or cottage cheese legs ... all over. I'm not exaggerating. I wish I had a picture of it. I looked like an obese person. We calculated that I was peeing off 11 liters of fluid a day... this is equivalent to losing 4 pounds a day, or something like that. So this was interesting.

Since I wasn't able to breastfeed for 24 hours, I was DYING to get my hands on a breastpump so I could start that process. It was really important to me to at least try to breastfeed twins. Little did I know what I was getting myself into! The nurse kept telling me to relax, but I had it in my head that I NEEDED to pump. Finally, she gave in and gave me the pump. I would pump every three hours for 15 minutes... omg, no rest for the weary. I should have listened. But, if I didn't would I have been able to nurse them for as long as I did? More on this in another post.

I'm telling you... that 24 hours could not have gone by any slower. I was so anxious to meet my babies. I was pining over them, desperate to finally set eyes on the tiny babies that I had delivered into the world.

When the time came, I wanted to look somewhat decent for pictures ... so vain, I'm totally aware of this. But I didn't want my babies to meet their mother looking like a raggamuffin. Remember that I was all yucky from surgery (despite a sponge bath, fun) ... the problem was, I was so weak. I mean, I had bambi legs. I could hardly keep my balance to stand. Clearly a shower was going to be impossible for me. Nevermind the c-section, that wasn't painful at all.

Sidebar: I always knew that Edgar was a wonderful husband, but going through this with my husband grew our relationship to the nth level. Y'all -- he is a REAL man.

Listen to what he did:

Allen stripped me down and helped me into the shower. He stripped down and washed my hair, my body and shaved my legs. He is such a caring, giving soul. He really, really knows how to take care of someone. It touched my heart in so many ways that he did this for me. I cried, and cried and cried... they say you're weepy after giving birth, but I was a basket case. He was there for me. Nevermind how I looked -- cottage cheese thighs and bandaged; I was a broken woman. He told me I was beautiful and a good mother and it was everything I needed to hear. Only a real man can do this for his wife. I am so proud of him. I will never, ever, ever forget this moment and what he did for me. It seems simple, a bath, yet it is the most intimate and incredibly selfless act to take care of someone. I love him with all of my heart.

It took a good hour to get me cleaned up. My mother dried my hair and did my makeup. They got me in a wheelchair, hooked my catheter to the back and put a boppy on my lap. I carried with me an outfit I wanted them to wear. I was finally ready to meet the two little angels.

Can you imagine the anticipation and excitement? The wonder and love in meeting two little humans that you grew inside of you?

Allen wheeled me down to the NICU, we checked in and then we had to scrub in, which consists of washing your hands thoroughly and then putting on a hospital gown. Strolling through the halls was heartbreaking -- there were babies in there no bigger than a barbie doll. It made me really thankful for having two healthy 34 weekers.

I got to meet Emma first. I remember being struck by how much she looks like an Atchley. She was beautiful, the most precious gift. TINY. Looking back at our video of our first meeting (which I'm choosing not to post), I kept crying and touching her hat, thinking how tiny she was and how she moved with such purpose. I remember all too well how powerful her little kicks and punches were -- as she was inside of me not a day before. Emma had a grumpy face on, just like her daddy has sometimes. I knew she was a true Atchley, a beautiful baby. It was a magical moment, one I'll never forget.

I got to meet little miss Olivia next. It was a surreal moment. I remember thinking how much hair she had and how beautiful she was. Again, so tiny. She was like a miniature me. Turned up nose and all... absolutely perfect and breathtaking. Olivia looked so peaceful and happy, a very content baby indeed. Looking at the video, I kept commenting on how beautiful she was. I kept saying, "my daughter, my daughter" as if the more times I said it, the more I'd believe they were actually in the world.

Despite how angry I still am about not getting to meet my beautiful daughters in their first 24 hours, I will never, ever forget our first meeting. Perhaps it was more special in a way, if that is possible. They were (are) perfect and precious.

After our first meeting, it was time to go back to my room... they almost had to drag me out of the NICU. It was almost midnight.

But, first, I got to enjoy what we call "the first supper." Remember that I had not eaten solids in several days... I was absolutely famished. Allen and the fam wheeled me down to the cafeteria. It was pretty much dead, but Allen had the hookup. After so many years of night call, Allen had gotten to know the cafeteria staff and they often cooked special meals for him, things that weren't on the menu... I wanted french fries and a grilled cheese. So that is what I got. It was wonderful.

Then they wheeled me back to my room for some rest... but had to pump first before we could sleep.

At about 4 a.m., I was feeling antsy to see my babies again... so Allen wheeled me down to the NICU. What a sweetie. The picture below is of Allen getting scrubbed in at 4 a.m. ...notice the bedhead.

The next day (TMI warning), they decided that they would try to take out the catheter. I was so thankful and ready to have this gone... it was annoying and uncomfortable. I was still peeing off soooooo much liquid it was crazy. My legs were still like jello and I was still so swollen, up to my waist. Turns out, taking out the catheter was a BIG mistake. I was so swollen, I couldn't pee. Everything was swollen shut! It took us about an hour of me trying to go before we realized that we were in an emergency situation. They had to do and in-and-out ... gross! Which dispelled about a liter of fluid, gross, and then had to reinsert the cath. It sucked.

My BP was still sky high and my breathing was still erratic. I remember being hooked up to every machine possible and all the alarms going off b/c my BP was so high and then the pulse oximeter would go off bc my sats were low. It was scary. Allen kept having to say, "take a deep breathe." This would go on all hours of the night and day ... alarms like crazy. I was still taking blood pressure medicine which made me feel really yucky. I wasn't really in any pain from the c-section.

I remember one incident where Allen got into it with the nurse. They were concerned about "wet-crackles" in my lungs ... meaning fluid around my lungs. Allen pulled rank and decided he was going to personally do an echo on my heart ... so he went down to the 7th floor and got the echo machine and strolled it back to my room. The nurse got PISSED that he did this, but he wanted to rule out any fluid around my heart. I don't really understand the politics behind this and why the nurse got upset that he went behind her back to do this, but it was quite the ordeal at the time. Thankfully, though, my heart was not filled/surrounded with fluid.

Meanwhile, I'm still pumping like crazy and giving the colostrum to my beautiful babies in the NICU. I had several visits from the lactation consultant, and let me tell you, there is no modesty whatsoever. They grope and feel and this and that. But, I somehow managed to do it. I was very focused and determined to make breastfeeding work. More on this in another post.

The babies were doing beautifully. They were able to go off IV fluids, but still had to be hooked up to the monitors for HR, BP, Pulse oximeter, etc. It became evident that because of their gestational age and prematurity, they were fine, but had to learn how to eat. Everytime they tried to suck on a bottle, they would suck so hard that their heartrate would drop, or "brady." The girls were doing so well, they were going to be moved out of the NICU into the stepdown unit called the "special care nursery" but there was one problem-- there weren't any beds available (there are only 7 beds in the SCN)! They wanted to move them to a different hospital where there were more beds, but we refused. So they stayed in the NICU for a few more days,which was unnecessary, but I"m kinda thankful that they got the extra attention. I'm sure these girls were a piece of cake compared to some of the other sicker babies. (btw, it really broke my heart to see some of the other babies ... so tiny and sick.)

So then came Monday... and I was ready to go home. I think they would have preferred that I stayed longer, but seeing as how I had my own personal physican to take care of me, they weren't as concerned as they would with a "civilian." The most horrible feeling was to leave my babies behind at the hospital. Looking back now, it *might*have been a blessing to go home and get better before bringing them straight home... it hurts to admit that, but I was still a sick puppy.

Look for the rest in the Homecoming story.