I went to bed at around 11pm on Friday, September 24th, feeling pretty good. I was 31 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Two days prior, I had a very routine prenatal appointment, and I was feeling very confident - as were they - that I'd make it to my c-section date of October 15th. I was so confident, that I didn't even pack our hospital bag. This was a mistake.
At 2am, I woke to a lot of sharp pain. In fact, I was already dragging myself out of bed while I was still partially asleep; a pretty major undertaking at that point of my pregnancy. I remember standing beside the bed, wobbly and groggy, trying to figure out what was going on. Suddenly, my water broke. I yelled for Edward, who literally jumped out of bed, and we both stood there, wide-eyed and mouths agape as we tried to process the situation. Every movement I made created more of a mess, so Edward grabbed a huge towel, and, thusly "diapered", we began a somewhat reasonable conversation about what to do next. Well, Edward was being reasonable. I couldn't decide if I was nervous, excited or terrified, so I settled on all three.
He asked about the contents of the woefully empty hospital bag: "What do we need?". "We need the three little stuffed monkeys for their incubators and the camera," I said, helpfully. "Don't you need, like, underwear and a toothbrush?" he replied. Um, right. Thank God he's on the payroll!
With a few necessities assembled and a garbage bag spread over the front passenger's seat, we drove the 10 minutes to the hospital. I gingerly waddled into the Emergency, looking for a wheelchair as Edward parked the car. It was early Saturday morning in late September, and the Emergency was full of university kids in various stages of inebriation and recovery. The room went silent as I slowly approached the triage nurse and informed her of my predicament. Then, the room erupted in mayhem. The kids were pushing their intoxicated friends out of wheelchairs which were careening madly in my direction. I found myself sitting in one, rescued from the exuberant crowd by a nurse who was just going off duty. She pushed me to Labour and Delivery just minutes ahead of Edward, who couldn't understand why he got a standing ovation, and cries of "Go Daddy!" when he entered the Emergency Room in search of me.
I was put on monitors and the babies were located. I wasn't dilated, and was having random contractions, so they decided they would wait to see if they could hold off labour for a few hours or even days to give the babies more time to mature. I sent Edward home, and tried to sleep. Deep down, I was a little disappointed that I'd have to wait a little longer to meet them. But of course, I wanted them to be as healthy as possible, so I mentally prepared myself to hunker down for a longer haul. At 8am, the High Risk OB materialized at my bedside to inform me that they were, in fact, going to go ahead with an emergency c-section. Baby A's ruptured sac wasn't replentishing its amniotic fluid and she thought it was only a matter of time until I went into full blown labour. I called Edward to come in, and he joined me moments before I was prepped for surgery.
I was wheeled into Labour and Delivery for my spinal epidural. It involved a resident anesthetist who had a REALLY hard time finding the right spot, so he tried many spots without success. Finally, the senior anesthetist pushed him out of the way with quite a cutting remark and finished the job within a matter of minutes. I was really emotional by this point, and was so relieved when Edward joined me and took my hand. We waited a few minutes while the teams of nurses, obstetricians, respiration techs and neonatologists assembled, and then without much fanfare, I heard the indignant cries of Baby A, followed by Babies B & C. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. They whisked the babies away, and got to work stitching me up. At one point, the OB asked us if we knew the genders of our babies. We didn't, so she announced that we had two boys and a girl.
Edward had the camera, and he was allowed to see the babies almost right away and take their pictures, which we have shared before:
Colin
Keith
Evelyn
These pictures were the first time I'd laid eyes on our babies, and I couldn't believe how tiny and still they looked - well, except for Keith, who looked MIGHTY unhappy at having been turfed off his gravy train, where he had spent the previous seven months lolling about while the other two fought over the scraps. Everyone was congratulating us, but as I waited for a chance to catch a glimpse of our babies as they rolled by on their way to the NICU, I didn't feel at all celebratory. The nurse who was with us kept anxiously scanning the hall, telling us she was sure the babies would be by any minute. Edward was allowed to see them, and reported that they were "working on them" in the delivery room because they had more space there than in the NICU. These are not things one wants to hear about one's children. But eventually, after several stressful hours, I finally got to see them as they came by, one by one. Under their masks, hats and wires I couldn't see too much, but what I did see of them looked tiny, yes... but perfect.
Edward at Colin's bedside on September 26
Despite some initial breathing issues, primarily with Keith, once the babies began to thrive, their improvement was astounding. They gained weight, started to eat their feeds, breastfed like champions and charmed all the nurses. Looking at the babies around us in the hospital, we knew how lucky we were.
Before we knew it, they went from being in the excellent care of the nurses, to being in our nervous, sleep-deprived and wholly inexperienced care. Somehow, we all managed to survive this first year. Somehow we managed to wade through the mountains of dirty diapers, clothes and bottles. The 3am groggy feeds, the hours spent cuddling a colicky baby, cleaning up after yet another bad reflux episode and kissing bumped heads and bruised knees. We made it because our friends and family shared all those moments with us: the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Because those desperate and tearful late-night phonecalls always brought sympathy, advice and help. And because we have always viewed our babies as an incredible gift, no matter what the time of night or the issue at hand.
We are so very, very lucky.
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, BABIES A, B AND C!!!
A Very Happy Birthday to your Babies A, B and C. What an adventure.
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