Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Snow.

Aw, and look how they enhanced our lives...
At this time, 9 years ago, I was in labor with twins, and laying next to a window, watching snow fall heavily on the flat hospital roof.  It was induced labor, since Stella was having some trouble with the fluid in her amniotic sac, so it was painful, but not natural, in any sense.  It was controlled by doctors.  At this point, I was still able to walk around or sit in a purple leather recliner and rock, and not just lay in bed.  I would have to get into bed every two hours, and be "woken" every two hours to have suctioned, pad monitors placed on my belly to make sure the twins weren't in distress.  They weren't.  In fact, Michael was often sleeping when they were checking for movement and proper heart-rates and they'd have to wake him with this vibrator thing, poor little guy.  I'm sure it was quite an ordeal for him, the whole induced labor and birthing process, since when they finally decided to do a c-section, he was in "shock" and took a moment to breath.  He kept his eyes shut too, like, "Fuck this shit, why'd you pull me out of my happy spot."

So in these hours, and all night I was in labor and they finally pulled me of the labor inducing medication they were using as a first line of "attack" because it was bring them on two hard and two fast and I was dilating...  I was alone most of this time... Sam was sleeping and I had been awake since 8 am the day before.  I hadn't slept at all the first night.  I kept taking hot showers, and letting water beat onto my belly and back... it felt good... and I liked being clean...  Otherwise, I rocked in my chair and listened to music on an iphone and tried to breathe through the pain in the darkness of the room, and hoped it wouldn't be too much longer... I was ready for my babies...

I wasn't dilating, though, even after they broke my water, and put me on another medication through an IV, which rendered me to my uncomfortable bed, and three monitors on my belly, which made it impossible to move, or they'd have to re-adjust them to find the heart beats and the contractions...  I was trying so hard not to move, I remember.  It hurt so much more, not to be able to shower, or pace through the pain, or listen to music and rock.

My babies were never in distress through it all... my body just wasn't opening up for them to come out.  I am betting I would have carried them to 40 weeks, even though 38 weeks is full term for twins.  I might have even gone over.  They were already huge babies for twins.  They would have been even bigger.  Gees.

I remember Sam was just telling me we couldn't have them on the 13th.  I had to wait until the next day, the 14th.  Even numbers were better, but we especially didn't want a birthday on the 13th.  Sigh...  I hadn't eaten in a few days, only clear liquids, so I am sure I just stared at him like, "Yeah, buddy, you do this shit."  This night, the 13th, I was awake all night.  Sam slept, and I was awake.  The next morning they drugged me, and gave me an epidural to make me sleep.  I was so weak and tired.

But this night... I was just waiting for my babies, and listening to music... I couldn't wait to meet them...

And the snow accumulated outside... a big January snowstorm...  And it was peaceful in the maternity wing... it was just me...  and I waited patiently to meet my little friends.

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