Looking Up

I don’t want this blog to be a negative place. I do need to get my feelings out about the loss of William and Harrison, but I think I will be moving on to positive posts and things in life I’m excited about. My love and sadness about losing them will never disappear, but I am going to order a pretty journal and handwrite my feelings in it. That way, my tears can fall on the pages instead of on the keyboard of my Macbook Pro!

So…looking up. I will find 3 things to be positive about today.

ONE: We are planning a second honeymoon very soon and I’d love to renew our vows as well. With all we have been through, we have become closer than ever and I want to shout from the rooftops how much I love my husband. Considering we got married when I was in the middle of finishing my degree, we didn’t get much of a honeymoon phase. We are looking at St. Lucia, I’d LOVE to go there. Plus they have a Sandals, which we loved. Our Sandals Antigua honeymoon was perfect and so romantic.

TWO: We are starting to plan how to finish our basement. We are getting quite a bit of money saved up and I’d LOVE to have it done by Christmas. It will be our main TV/Media spot, plus we will have an extra full bathroom bringing our total baths to 3.5. Also, it will be a great area/suite for guests to stay in if we have visitors. Getting the basement done will also improve our insulation, and I’m hoping once it’s done our winter heating bills will go down. (Last year, our monthly bill was around $500-$550!)

THREE: I am so looking forward to the doctor approving physical activity again. My pregnancy was pretty hard from the beginning. Not only could I not work out at ALL, but towards the end, I could barely walk, except to the bathroom. Also, I was afraid to sneeze, cough, and even turn over in bed. Bedrest wasn’t fun. Although I would have done absolutely anything for my boys, I never wanted to go on a run more that when I was barely allowed to move. You never know how important exercise and general movement (walking!) is until you can’t do it anymore! I am signed up for a 5k in remembrance of the boys in October. Maybe this will be the kick in the ass I need to workout again.

That’s all for now. Looking forward to more positive posts and looking for the good in every day.

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Almost 4 weeks

It’s been almost 4 weeks since we lost the babies. It’s been a blur of flowers, cards, birthday parties, lunches with my mom, and trying to keep going. For awhile, I thought I was doing so well. But now, as time goes on, it almost seems to be getting worse.

Nick has gone back to work, and that has been part of it. We used to spend the day having lunch, going to a winery, talking about what happened and trying to make sense of it. Neither of us are ready to continue on with “normal”. But we have to.

We went to our niece’s 2nd birthday party, and have been trying to fill our schedule with fun things to do. But it all seems pointless. I just want to crawl into bed and cry a river. I am so sad and so angry that this happened to us.

A New Normal

After 3 weeks off (1 for the week after my surgery, the rest since I had the babies) Nick went back to work today. He has been by my side 24/7 since we lost the babies, so it will be hard to get back to normal, or whatever normal now means.
Today was my first day alone. It wasn’t too bad. I slept in, went to lunch with my mom and my uncle, got gas, and got an iced coffee from Starbucks. No, I’m not back to work yet or normal yet, and I still break down and cry at random times, but I am trying.

Between the appointments, the surgery, and ultimately losing the babies, I have surprised myself at how strong I am. I’d rather not have to be strong, but sometimes being strong is your only choice.

I love my babies and always will. I’m sad, confused, and angry and always will be. But I’m still here, still breathing, and need to somehow figure out how to still live.

A Deafening Silence

2 weeks ago tomorrow, I gave birth to our first children William Matthew and Harrison Michael. 2 weeks ago tomorrow, we also lost our first children. My water broke the Thursday before after a dizzying few weeks of a shortening and funneling cervix, progesterone supplements, and an emergency rescue cerclage on an awful Friday evening 7/24.

The doctor warned us that the cerclage could be unsuccessful and we had a 50/50 change of losing one or both babies right there on the operating table. We took our chances and did what we could to save the babies, because without the cerclage, it looked like they were coming in the next few days. It was way too early, and there was no chance for survival. Not doing anything wasn’t optimal. Getting the cerclage wasn’t optimal. Either way, outcome was poor.

The surgery was supposed to take 45 minutes. Instead it took 3 hours. I was awake the whole time, and had a weird sense of calm throughout the procedure. Our surgeon was our maternal fetal medicine specialist, who was smart, funny, and who we trusted. He did an amazing job on the cerclage and I came out of surgery with hope. Everyone seemed so happy that I made it through with both babies. I am so thankful we had him as one of our doctors, we could tell he was doing his best to help us. Some things just aren’t in our control.

Every day after the cerclage, things started to change. The early morning 5:30 am birds that tweet outside our window used to drive me crazy. All I wanted to do was sleep and they were so loud. After the cerclage, every time I heard the birds at 5:30 am, I was happy. It was now a welcome sound. It meant that the babies had made it another day.

Every morning I woke up was another day the babies made it. I was so happy and starting to lose my anxiety. My dad bought me a great recliner chair and I set up shop there on bedrest to make it as far as I could with the babies.

Then, Thursday morning after the surgery, things changed. I woke up around 4 am. I had to pee a few times and something just didn’t feel right. I felt a twitching in my stomach that was new, but I chalked it up to the cerclage and maybe the babies were just moving more. I settled back into bed with the giraffe that played music- the one I played for my babies at night before bed.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but I just felt this weird anxiety wash over me. The birds weren’t tweeting and it was approaching 5:00am.  The dark room was enveloped in a silent darkness and my hubby was deep asleep.

Suddenly, I felt a rush of wetness. It came on fast and strong. I knew immediately what it was. I ran to the bathroom with water pouring out and sat on the toilet as the awful flood came, nothing i could do to stop it. I silently hoped I was just peeing myself, but I knew the difference. I was just fooling myself.

Life since that moment has been a blur. Nick drove me to the hospital where they tested my water and confirmed that it did break. We were told we would be delivering the babies soon. We waited it out for 24 hours before they told us we needed to induce. The risk of getting infection and possibly losing my uterus or worse was too high. My husband said he couldn’t live with going home without the babies and without me. They used pitocin and we waited. And waited, and waited. It didn’t work.

They then put a pill in to induce (which i later found out is not even approved by the FDA and could have killed me!) and a few hours later, I could tell the babies were coming. There is nothing worse than giving birth to babies you hoped and prayed for, only to realize they wouldn’t survive. Labor was relatively quick, the boys were born 2 minutes apart.

Nick and I held them, and sobbed. The Chaplain came in and prayed for the boys and baptized them. We held them and stared into their beautiful faces, wishing there was something we could do. They were just way too small. Harrison was also almost twice as big as William, so we suspect TTTS. After about a half hour, my husband and I both decided we needed to say goodbye. It hurt too much to look at them and see their frail, underdeveloped bodies, and we felt so helpless.

The nurses took them away. I was cleaned up and given a new bed. I hadn’t eaten in days so Nick ran to the cafeteria, but I threw up everything I ate.

The next morning, we were discharged.

It all happened so fast and doesn’t seem real.

2 weeks have gone by. We have received so many gifts, cards, and wishes, but nothing can bring back our boys. The only thing we can do is keep on living. But it is so hard without them.

Our house is silent most times. We read, watch tv, or cuddle on the couch. This may be the worst part. There should be crying and dirty diapers, and silly toys playing silly songs. There should be bottles being washed, songs being sung, and whispering after the boys go to sleep. Instead, there is this silence. In the silence I sometimes hear this: Things will be ok.

But mostly I hear this: Things will never be ok again.

I am facing a life sentence without my babies. The babies I hoped and prayed for were taken away from me. I have no idea why. That is the worst part. Having to live without them and not knowing why.