Our Story: Twins Just a Few Hours Old

Everyone starts calling you “Mommy” when they find out you’re pregnant. I certainly didn’t feel like one yet. But now my kids were born, breathing, and sucking away at my breasts. I was finally a “real” mommy.

I was wheeled into my room and greeted by my in-laws, nurses, Ryan and my mom. My sister who lived in town, also decided to join the party.

The nurses had me move over into the post partum bed, not a comfortable task. I was worried about my bum showing through the open gown, but no one cared about me at the moment except the nurses. Everyone was admiring babies.

I got settled and was given more crackers and ice water. The day nurse introduced herself as Rachel and seemed very sweet. She asked about my pain. Maybe she’d understand. I told her I was very uncomfortable and hadn’t been given much since the delivery. She seemed concerned and checked my chart. Rachel determined that it was definitely time for more pain medication and I was grateful. I was quickly given a dose of IV pain meds. She came back every so often and asked my pain number on the 1 to 10 scale. She said anything over a “3” needed attention. I was glad to finally be in compassionate hands.

I sat in my bed watching people coo and smile at my babies. We’d compare “A” to “B” and look for differences and similarities. For fraternal twins, there really wasn’t much difference. Everyone also speculated on who looked like whom. “I think A looks like Ryan.” “No, A looks like Rachel and B looks like Ryan.” I didn’t have an opinion except that the dark complexion and almost black hair didn’t look like anyone in the room. For being fraternal, it was certainly hard to tell any sort of difference. It was funny that people thought they saw differences and I didn’t. There were twenty fingers and twenty toes. Healthy and happy.

Coworkers and neighbors came to visit and brought gifts. Some brought a pair of matching outfits, others brought a loaf of fresh specialty store bread and honey. An officer who had twins brought diapers, wipes and open bottom pajamas. All were very thoughtful gifts. The only trouble was it was just more stuff to take home. Ryan was assigned to take excess baby and mommy stuff anytime he left for home. I’m glad I only had a few non-family visitors here and there. Things were chaotic enough.

Once a day, the pediatrician came to our room to check out both girls. Just a quick five minute exam checking muscle tone, heart and lungs, eyes and ears, umbilical cord site, etc. I was happy to have my mom there. She knew the pediatricians well and chatted it up with them, making me feel at ease. If there was any concern, I knew I didn’t have to comprehend what the doctor was saying to me. In my exhausted state, I couldn’t comprehend much. If anything was pertinent, Mom could translate.

With each exam, everything looked fine. I was relieved. We did, however, get an abdominal ultrasound for “B” due to the small cyst discovered near her bladder during a prenatal ultrasound. That checked out fine too: the cyst was now non-existent. Quite a relief.

Since the in-laws were in town specifically for the birth, they were present almost constantly during visiting hours holding, feeding and changing babies. Sometimes, my father-in-law would go to a fast food place and bring back milkshakes or sandwiches.

A few times, Ryan went home at the prompting of everyone to take a nap. I, on the other hand, was confined to the room with all the visitors: not an environment fit for sleeping. When I seemed extra sleepy and closed my eyes, the in-laws stayed quiet while holding the babies. But I just couldn’t sleep.

When visiting hours were over, the in-laws were still there. I love my in-laws, but it was exhausting having constant visitors and phone calls. I didn’t want to complain because they were leaving town as soon as the babies and I were released from the hospital to go home. They needed to bond with their grandchildren. I could entertain guests in my hospital room for a few days.

The nurses offered each night to take the babies so Ryan and I could rest. We declined the first two nights. These were our babies and our responsibility. Plus, the only alone time we got with them was at night. The nurses again offered that they could keep them and bring them in when it was time to eat. No, thank you. I wanted to be close to my babies. And I knew that the nurses were disappointed that they didn’t get to hold my cuties all night. Tough!

A note on nurses: Some are great, others are not. I was lucky enough to have great nurses my first and second days in the hospital. Day three was apparently all the great nurses day off. I just had to remember that this nurse was only on for twelve hours. A new nurse would be there at 6pm. The 6pm nurse was no better. Gruff and ornery. At least I get to go home tomorrow.

I knew that babies needed to eat just about every three hours and that was the schedule I wanted them on. Changing diapers, setting up to nurse, getting them to latch, keeping them awake to nurse long enough, length of time nursing, then burping, bottle feeding to supplement. It all takes time. Three hours goes by pretty quickly when you’re busy with two babies.

The days and nights in the hospital were a blur of keeping track of things I wasn’t used to keeping track of. Nurses wanted the following detailed report for their documentation each time they entered the room - At 11:15am we started nursing. “A” nursed for 20 minutes and “B” nursed for 25. Then “A” ate 22 mL of formula called E20 and peed and pooped. “B” ate 14 mL of E20, peed but didn’t poop. It was usually a group effort to keep track of times and diaper contents and formula amounts. In this instance, I was glad to have the constant visitors.

Let me tell you something here. When you are still calling your kids “A” and “B” it’s quite difficult to keep track because they still seem unreal. The nurses thought it was odd that we were calling them “A” and “B” and so did our friends and family. Plain and simple: we hadn’t decided yet. And that made things complicated.