Our Story: The Big Moment Arrives

Once I reached the ‘red sterile line’ where only people having surgery or taking place in the surgery could go, I said a temporary goodbye to Ryan and my mom and was escorted to my surgical table by another nurse who had a trainee. I was fine with trading my humming nurse for a quiet nurse and her trainee. No need to get my blood pressure up any more than it already was.

So, the nurses took me in and hung up my IV bag. They had me sit on the table for a while as they prepped various towels and tools needed. I was waiting for the anesthesiologist. He finally entered and asked if I was allergic to any medication. No. I opened the backside of my gown and hunched over to receive my epidural. The nurses held my arms and stood in front of me so I wouldn’t tip off the table. A quick poke and some deep breaths and I was more than ready to lie down.

“Is this table supposed to be crooked?” It was slanted down to my left side. Once it was explained that they didn’t want me lying flat because it could cause the weight of the uterus to press on my aorta and cut off blood flow, I understood that I would lie on a crooked table for the delivery of my children and the subsequent stitching. It seemed quite odd. But it made sense.

The belly curtain was raised, my arms were laid out beside me on little cushioned boards so they could access my IV’s. My bottom half was now completely naked except for a blanket on my legs and hospital issue socks on my feet. The nurse and her trainee did one last shaved privates check. By this time, I knew any people who knew me weren’t looking at my nakedness. I didn’t care anymore. There was so much going on. I knew Ryan would be able to come in soon, but it seemed to be taking forever. I needed the support.

I was asked a number of questions that I had already answered with my favorite humming nurse. And everyone kept asking if I was having a c-section and a tubal. A tubal? Heck no. We want more kids. I was asked 4 times if I was having a tubal. It really freaked me out. I guess they were just confirming everything, but geez!

I can’t imagine what women who are going through an emergency c-section must be thinking at that point in time. This chaos was completely planned and expected. I knew my babies were fine. They had been moving around a lot, probably wondering why I was on a hunger strike. Women whose babies were in trouble would be having a very hard time comprehending what was happening in the flurry of tubing and towels and gowned hospital workers. I thanked my lucky stars that the babies were okay thus far.

Finally, Ryan entered the room and was told to sit by me. I honestly can’t remember if the doctor was in there yet or not. I do remember starting to feel completely nauseated. I said, “I’m gonna throw up.” The anesthesiologist passed a small puke bucket my way and Ryan held it near my face. It was more of a dry heave, but I did manage to throw up small amounts of liquid. Just a reaction to the medication given in the IV’s and epidural. Very common. Well, that was fun.

It was closing in on 8:30 in the morning. Things were ready.

The doctor started to cut. Thank goodness our hospital didn’t allow video recording devices in their surgical rooms. I would have wanted it all on tape. Ryan would have passed out at the first sight of blood, so we wouldn’t have gotten much video anyway. Oh well. This will just be a private, special moment between husband, wife, baby “A”, baby “B”, grandmother, doctor, doctor’s assistant surgeon, surgical tech, anesthesiologist, nurse, and nurse trainee.

I remember pressure and tugging and pulling. My mom was standing by with the sterile towel for baby “A.” I remember looking at Ryan and watching his expressions. He seemed to be watching the clock.

“Rachel, there’s clear fluid in the first sac. That’s a great sign.” My mom was trying to give me a play by play of what was going on over the curtain. Clear amniotic fluid means that the baby from that sac was not in distress. Meconium is essentially baby poo. If there is any meconium in the fluid, it’s a sign the kid was in distress at one time. It’s not great for babies to be ‘inhaling’ this poo into their lungs, but it’s not the end of the world. Per Grandma the NICU nurse, the worse thing than breathing poo is why the child was in distress to poo before it was time to poo.

“Oh! So much dark hair! Where did that dark hair come from?” Dark hair? My kid has dark hair? Is this a joke? I was a redhead and had been my whole life. Ryan was born very blonde, but now was a dirty blonde to light brown color. His beard whiskers were reddish, so I crossed my fingers for redheads. I expected a blonde baby, or a bald baby. A redhead baby would be awesome. Did she say dark hair? I felt more tugging. I heard a little baby screaming.

“It’s a girl! Baby A, time of birth: 8:41am.” My mom ‘caught’ her, started wiping her off and brought her over for us to look at. Mom was talking to me and saying things like, “Isn’t she beautiful?” Mom was so proud, and holding back her Grandma emotions. I couldn’t tell you exactly what was going on. It was fast forward, all of it. The whole morning and whole pregnancy at times seemed to go a snail’s pace. But now, I couldn’t slow it down. All I remember was, my baby was skinny, looked quite dark skinned, and had lots and lots of almost black hair. It was a shock. I had a baby, a baby that was alive and well and screaming her little head off. And there was another one coming in a minute or two.

My mom whisked her just a few feet away in another room to the waiting NICU team to clean her off, suction, put her under the warmer, put on identifying bracelets, etc. I could still hear her crying. Mom returned quickly with another clean towel. I’m sure she was still mentioning things about cute, healthy, beautiful for the first kid. I could only hear my baby girl crying. I felt more tugging.

“And another girl! Baby B, time of birth: 8:42am.” More crying. Lots of crying. Lots and lots of crying. Crying from two directions. Twins. I guess we should get used to that. Mom again showed her to us while wiping the gunk off of her. She looked just like her sister: dark hair, dark complected, skinny. Mom was saying things to us about the girls. I couldn’t comprehend them. She took “B” to the other room as well.

Ryan asked, “Can I go?” I told him of course he could go. He watched as they cleaned and took care of “B” for a while.

In a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, in came a nurse with “A” all wrapped up with a hat on. I got to really look at her squished little face for the first time. I couldn’t say she looked like me or Ryan. She just looked like a squished and swollen faced little baby. I was able to move my IV tube laden arm just enough to touch her. The nurse held her up close to my face so I could get a good look. My mom came back in holding “B” and held her close to me on the other side. I was being stitched up but I didn’t care because I was looking at my two beautiful, dark haired babies.

Ryan and I were able to spend a few minutes with them before they had to be taken to the nursery. Ryan left and wheeled the girls down the hall where eager new grandparents were waiting. I was now stuck in a surgical room, getting all put back together. The surgical staff was chatting away about this and that, but I didn’t really hear them.

I couldn’t think of a thing besides my girls: my healthy, screaming girls.