Fancy in the sticks: 266 Days Later...

On September 14, 2015, our lives were forever changed when we welcomed our two sweet baby boys into the world. Pregnancy seemed like it was going to last forever, especially as we neared the end. On top of the already seemingly endless wait, these little blessings made me wait until the very last day possible to meet them. At 38 weeks and 1 day (my dr advised us that twins can only go to 38 weeks gestation for their own safety), my dr finally induced me.

Eager to get everything started, we arrived at the hospital nice and early for our 7am induction. I suspect I was already in slow labor because my contractions had been stronger and a little more consistent that weekend, but nothing felt strong enough to go to the hospital. I think the worst part about waiting to "know it's time" is that I had no idea how I would know since I've never done this before. Every time I'd ask my doctor, "yes, but what will it feel like? I have contractions pretty much off and on all day long. When is enough enough?" He would just say "when the pain is strong enough that you can't talk through it. You'll know." Well, no, I didn't know. Even after breaking my water for the induction, my contractions never felt like they described. They honestly just felt like my stomach was contracting in and out, which didn't hurt to me. The only thing that hurt was that sometimes during contractions or between them, it felt like the baby was trying to kick it's way out, but I'd been feeling that on and off for weeks at this point, so that didn't seem like what I was supposed to be looking for. At 7cm, I had to ask my nurse if that was what they meant about waiting for the "contractions to hurt". She just told me I was pretty far along to not have had my epidural yet, so I may as well have it. After that, things were definitely better because it no longer felt like baby A was kicking his way out, and I continued to progress until 6pm when they told me I could push.

Well, three hours later, we welcomed Mr. stubborn baby A into the world, and it became clear why he had so much trouble getting out. He wasn't breach, but he was trying to come out face up. Regardless of how long I pushed, he was perfect and I was in love. No sooner had I met my Baby A, then the nurses took him away and told me to begin pushing for Baby B. The dr had just said my darling Baby B would be born in just a couple minute, when I watched his facial expression drop as he shouted across the OR (they deliver twin babies in the OR just in case of an emergency) "C-Section, STAT". I looked at him like he was joking. Was I seriously about to have a C-section after 3 hours of pushing, and already bringing one baby into this world? He had to be kidding. Well, doctors don't joke about these things. He was serious. The minutes began to fly as I heard the doctor bark out orders to the nurses, and then I remember hearing "Heart rate's dropping. 110, 100, 90…" My healthy little Baby B was rapidly fading. The baby who I remembered had begun the first 36 weeks of my pregnancy as Baby A, had danced around on his brother's head in my belly during ultrasounds, was determined to come out first, always wiggling, kicking me in the ribs, and head butting me in my hip, where he eventually got stuck and was passed by his brother for the first position. My "Baby-A-turned-Baby-B", my bouncing ball of energy, the bigger baby of the two, the little porker who made me crave frozen yogurt every night, and would kick in delight as I devoured it. He was slipping away, and it was hitting me as they lifted me onto the operating table, and asked if I had feeling still. "Yes! Don't start, wait, wait!" I screamed as they pinched my belly and asked if I could feel it. "Dad. Out. Now. (they yelled at my husband as they began surgery) Knock her out, NOW" were the last words I can remember my dr saying before I opened my eyes to the nurse holding my screaming skinny baby boy, my Baby B. He was here, he was crying, and he was Okay. They took him away, he was gone.

Where's my husband, where's my other baby, what is taking so long? I kept wondering, but they had knocked me out so quickly, I couldn't move my mouth to get the words out. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like my lungs couldn't move either. The tears fell from my eyes, as I struggled to move my mouth somewhat, a little bit, just enough to get something out, even just one word, "Breathe. Can't, breathe." I mumbled. They gave me oxygen, and I felt my lungs expand a little finally. "Tim. Where's Tim." They assured me he was waiting and they had told him the baby and I were fine, and I would be back to see him soon. After 9 months of waiting, and a scary delivery, our little blessings had made it into the world safe and sound, and just like that, our lives would change forever.

Meet Christopher Jamison (Baby A)