As previously posted, the birth plan we'd cultivated to mirror the wonderful experience we had with our son went to hell in a hand basket really fast. While I'm extremely grateful that there were no major complications and that by all rotes, the delivery went well - my husband and I felt robbed of the experience by the drugs administered, the cold, sterile atmosphere of the operating room, and the rushed, technical urgency in which the medical staff extracted our daughters from my womb via incision before whisking them away from us for more intensive care. The nurses had prepared us for what was going to happen after the operation was complete, but the one thing they couldn't prepare us for was the aftermath, and the emotions you seemingly drown in. Excitement was overshadowed by trepidation. The anticipation of meeting our daughters for the first time was clouded with the anxiety most all parents experience when their precious infants are in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. While you know they're in very capable hands, just the absence of having your newborn(s) in your arms immediately following birth leaves a giant, gaping hole in your chest.
They called our first little girl "Baby A", but to us, she was our little miracle bearing my husband's mother's namesake: Sophia Elayne. Although she only weighed 3 lbs 14 oz, her torso seemed so long, her limbs so lithe, her neck already appearing graceful as she craned to look around at her surroundings. "Baby B" was our precious Samantha Fae, the little rascal whose decision to somersault into breech position put us in the O.R. versus a birthing suite. Slightly more robust than her older sister (by exactly one minute), she weighed 4 lbs 3 oz and had the same slender body. I remember being wheeled into the room that held their respective little incubators and noticing how freakishly long and sinewy their toes seemed. I was trying to soak in all their features while averting my eyes from all the tubes, wires and machines they were connected to. My husband and I clasped hands and tried to hold it together while the compassionate, gentle nursing staff were reassuring us that they were, by all measures, in relatively good health save for their prematurity.
SAMANTHA FAE
SOPHIA ELAYNE
I got to hold Sophia first. My hands trembled as the nurse expertly maneuvered her tiny body out of her plastic, see-through second home and placed her in my arms. She seemed glad to be there, and I thought about what a rude and abrupt disembarkment they must have suffered, from the familiar warmth and safety of my womb to these cold, antiseptic containers! Although my legs were still numb from the epidural, my mind seemed to instantaneously regain full clarity from the remnants of the anesthesia as soon as I felt the warmth of her body. I held her to my chest and she instinctively started rooting towards my breast to suckle. Her lips were in an "O" shape and it reminded me of a little bird. I sat there frozen - afraid to shift, afraid to move her. I just wanted to inhale her scent and feel her movements. They had already explained to me that they weren't allowed out of their isolettes for very long periods due to their inability to maintain ideal body temperatures. It seemed like as soon as I got comfortable holding Sophia, they were ready to take her away. My heart ached.
Samantha was brought to me next, and she was getting oxygen supplementation via a nasal cannula. She looked up at me with big, round eyes and I could barely contain myself. I held her and silently wept, my warm tears hitting her like raindrops. I used the corner of her swaddling blanket to blot her little face, and it felt like the electricity of pure love, recognition and acceptance flowed through us both as I grew so bold as to touch her cheeks with my bare fingertips. My husband was right there with me, his big hands on my shoulders providing comfort and strength, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was going through the same emotions I was feeling. When the nurse took Samantha back, I almost felt relieved. I was so afraid I would inadvertently bring harm to them somehow, those fragile little beings! I carried the guilt of that relief all the way back to my recovery room.
The next couple of days became a little easier. I was pumping breast milk, which made me feel a little more productive and responsible for the care of my babies since I didn't have the luxury of being able to be right there with them. Select family members were allowed in to see them after a good surgical scrubbing of their arms and hands. I finally got to hold them both at the same time and marvel all over again at the magic of one egg splitting into two, creating dual embryos who shared the same placenta. At 34 weeks and 3 days old, their little features were still slight, their skulls peaked, and their eyes were like those of a hung-over, sleep-deprived, slightly disgruntled old person. What surprised me then and still amazes me is how even at that tender new age, their personalities immediately shone through! Sophia the delicate little high-maintenance diva princess, Samantha the laid-back, mellow, undemanding little beatnik.
The next seventeen days was a back-and-forth blur from home to NICU, NICU to home. They began to gain weight, lost the whole "failure to thrive" stigma most preemies are born with, and their feeding tubes were soon replaced with bottles. On the 8th day, we got to feed them for the very first time!
The day they were moved from NICU into the step-down unit was so joyous! They were placed in the same crib together for the first time, and there they lay, like two bugs snug in a rug, together again at last! That's when they really began to start gaining weight, eating better, and growing. The Twin Phenomena started to become apparent to us. They were wombmates, born together, best friends forever! They started smiling. Our hearts turned to melted mush!
We had a few ups and downs during the course of their hospital stay, but no major setbacks. When we finally received notice that they were ready to come home, we were so happy to know that we were finally going to have all of our kids under one roof! Then panic set in. I was scared and intimidated by how tiny they were. We were scheduled for a class on infant resuscitation and training on the apnea monitor that Sophia had to wear home. She failed her infant car seat test that assures she doesn't stop breathing abruptly when sitting up, and that was disheartening. I was set to spend the last night up at the hospital with them, and it was the first time I was allowed to be alone with my girls for an extended time. We reveled in it, and I felt far more competent than I had just from the short sessions we'd had in the step-down unit together. Coming home the next day was glorious! Our family of five was finally going to experience true togetherness for the first time!
Each month, Sophia and Samantha began to look less like preemies and more like newborns. By three months old, they were still in newborn outfits, but they were starting to get snug. Their pediatrician had them supplemented with extra calories, and the little fat rolls they started developing on their slender little bodies was good evidence that they were starting to maintain healthy weight. They were still in the minority percentile for weight at that point, but we knew we were on the right track. Once Sophia got off the apnea monitor, it became very difficult to tell them apart, and that fascinated us to no end. We would sit and look at them for hours, trying to find subtle differences. They were there, but you had to know where to look. Samantha's face was more round, where Sophia seemed to have more angular cheekbones. They were happiest when they were side-by-side, touching one another.
When they turned four months old, I received a call from my OB/GYN regarding the results of a post-partum checkup. My pap had come back irregular and they scheduled a colposcopy to get a better tissue sampling. Long story short, the biopsy revealed I had superficial cervical cancer. A complete hysterectomy was scheduled for Valentine's Day, and I knew that the recovery was going to be extremely difficult with three infants to care for. I knew that the most important thing was to have the organs removed before the cancer had a chance to spread, and we did just that. It was a long and arduous recovery (and I'll post about that later), and I was glad to have gone through it and put it behind me so I could proceed with the most important thing to me: Raising my children. Sophia and Samantha continued to thrive!
Below are some age progression photos from five months to present day, and now they are just a little over one month shy of their first birthday! It was so hard to look forward back in the NICU phase and imagine them growing into healthy, roly-poly little chubbies. Although they're still small for their age, their pediatrician assures us that by two years of age, they'll be caught up to the average size for their age group. We can't wait to watch them grow into beautiful little toddlers!
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