When Formalin is Not Your Friend (aka: Biopsy #3)

In general, I like my OB. Far more important than liking her, I think she's competent and will work with me on my care. Yesterday was not, however, one of our finer days together.

I went in for what I hope will be my last biopsy. She asked if I wanted to get three samples again: one for histology, one to culture for bacteria, and one to culture for yeast. Only the histology was positive last time, so it was reasonable to ask if I wanted to go through the unpleasantness of three samples. On one hand, I really hoped there was no need, and had no expectation of a need for bacteria or yeast cultures. On the other hand, if the histology comes back positive, I don't want to have to wait for another cycle to get another biopsy for bacterial culture. So we agreed to get three samples again.

She got three samples. I got up and got dressed. Just as I was about to walk out, she came back in and told me she'd put all three in formalin by accident, and you can't culture a sample that's been in formalin. If I wanted bacteria and yeast cultures, I'd have to do another biopsy.

Bloody hell.

Since we'd already run a catheter into my uterus once for the initial biopsy, it increased the chances of pushing in new bacteria and getting a false positive. Also, those biopsies are no bloody fun. I didn't want another. So I declined.

Let's hope the histology comes back negative for CE.

Other interesting notes:
October 30, 2016 was the day my water broke with the twins. During the biopsy, I mentioned to my OB that it happened a year ago. She commented that it must have been scary for me, and that she was scared, specifically that she was scared during my delivery a week later. I knew things were bad during delivery, but hearing that they were bad enough for my OB to be scared. . . I guess that's why my Dad, who saw them wheel me out to surgery that day, encouraged me to think about my own health before continuing to try to get pregnant.

I've had bleeding since the biopsy. More bleeding than my last period. I'm trying to tell myself that it's a good sign that my lining isn't shot. I have no idea if that's true or not, but it's giving me hope so I'll hold to it!

I told my OB that if I'm able to get pregnant again, I'll be coming to see her pretty early on, since I'll want the NIPT referral as early as possible due to the TAC. She told me she's happy to see me weekly if I'm pregnant again. She may regret saying that! :)

Getting Worse

Saturday morning was my second follicle check. I was hoping that with the increased dosage of Follistim, I'd see some good progress and my estrogen would be up. Instead, my estrogen has dropped and I still only have one follicle in contention. I'm upping my Follistim dosage to 300 iU a night and I go back again on Monday. The nursing staff warned me that unless there's improvement, my cycle will be cancelled.

It makes no sense, but I've got this thought that keeps running through my mind: Maybe Alexis and Zoe were the babies we were meant to have. Maybe they're the only babies we were meant to have, so there will be no more. I love them so much, and I'd give just about anything to have them arriving, safe this month as originally planned, but I hope they are not the only children we'll be parents to.

Here are the numbers this cycle vs. last:

Last cycle:
CD10, after 7 nights of Gonal F 150 iU
Right = 19, 13.6, 7
Left = 16.5, 15, 10, 8
LH = 1.03 miu
P4 = 1.66
E2 = 1294

This cycle:
CD9, after 4 nights of Follistim 150 iU and 3 nights of 225 iU
Right = 14.5
Left = 9.5
LH = 1.15 mIU/mL
P4 = <0.05 ng/mL
E2 = 432.4 pg/mL

How it Ended

This is the last part of Zoe and Alexis’s story. I’m going to share what I remember, and what I know must have happened. In light of how sick I was, I’m sure I’ve lost time, and probably some of these memories are inaccurate. I hate that, but then I hate most everything about what happened.

When we arrived at the hospital, they took me down for another ultrasound, to see if Alexis still had fluid. The good news was that she did, but Zoe’s AFI was zero. They told me that Alexis’s water hadn’t broken, which I still don’t believe. They also couldn’t see my cervix, because Alexis’s head was blocking it on the ultrasound. I went back up to L&D triage, and they hooked me up to the contraction monitors. I was having measurable contractions at that point. One of the OBs from my group came in. She told me that I did seem to be having contractions, but since Alexis’ water hadn’t broken, I could go home or she could admit me, it was my choice.

I was honestly confused by this. I was in labor and told her I’d rather stay as I didn’t want to have the babies at home. That seemed dangerous. She agreed it would be better if I stayed. Since it seemed likely I would deliver, we decided to do an internal exam. We hadn’t done one up until then to reduce the risk of infection. However since it seemed like this was the end, the infection risk didn’t matter. She checked me and reported I was 2 cm dilated. Just as she was about done, she said “Wait a minute.” Then she paused, and then she told me, “I can feel a foot.” I had logically known we were at the end before then, but emotionally I’d still been holding out hope. When she told me she could feel Alexis’s foot, though, that was it. We agreed that I’d be moved to a room in L&D and we’d focus on pain management from that point forward. Somewhere in there, someone told me that I should expect to deliver the next morning.

I was taken to a room in L&D. They gave me the last room at the end of the hallway. It was a nice room – two windows and a decent but tiny bathroom. They gave me dilaudid, which made me feel drunk and cut back on the pain. I could feel the contractions, and they weren’t pleasant, but they actually hurt far less than my digestive system did. I’ve known a few people who said their epidurals wore off before delivery, and I wanted to avoid that, so I wanted to delay the epidural as long as possible. I made it about 2 – 3 hours on the dilaudid, and then got the epidural, and it was wonderful to be out of physical pain for the first time in a week. I shook pretty badly right after the epidural was started, but it stopped after a while when I was able to relax.

The nurses encouraged me to get sleep over night, and they’d check me the next morning. DH made a bed on the folding couch in my room, and my Dad and MIL camped out in the hallway next to my room and in the waiting room. I wasn’t in a good place physically or mentally at this point, so I wasn’t super aware of anything happening outside my room.

I woke up early Monday morning to a sunbeam shining in the window, across my belly. Every single day I was pregnant, I’d wake up early (insomnia) and I’d put my hand on my belly and talk to the babies. Seeing the sun across them that morning seemed like some kind of sign, so I spent some time telling them they would always, always be loved, and that their great grandparents would be waiting for them, that I was so grateful to have gotten to be their mom and I wouldn’t ever forget them.

Eventually the nurses and my doctor came in. My doctor checked me and said she could feel Alexis, so I should try pushing. I didn’t track the number of pushes or the time at all, but Alexis Marie was born at 7:45 am. The nurses cleaned her and gave her to DH and I to hold. She was so beautiful. She had a perfect little nose, and mouth and eyes. I’ve never loved anyone so much or hurt so badly. DH invited MIL and my dad in, and they got to hold her and say goodbye too.

At that point, my doctor told me that Zoe hadn’t moved enough to deliver, and I was still only 8 cm dilated. She put me on Pitocin and said she’d check me again later. Thus, Pitocin was started.

At this point, my memory gets really fuzzy. Sometime around 3 that afternoon I had maxed out the Pitocin, and it was determined that I still wasn’t ready to deliver. I don’t remember being checked, and I remember wanting to try pushing although not feeling any need to do so. My doctor (who I don’t remember seeing) ordered a high dose or oral cytotec. She probably did check me, but like I said, I don’t remember any of that. I remember looking at the cytotec pills and being nervous, because they were pills, so if it didn’t go well, I would have to wait for them to wear off. Apparently that was foreshadowing. I also realized the epidural was wearing off, so I asked the nurse about getting it topped off again.

Within minutes of taking the pills, I started having fully body convulsions. It was like the epidural shaking, but so much worse. I couldn’t open my eyes, no matter how hard I tried. I started to hyperventilate, and realized it, so I focused all my energy on calming my breathing, but my whole body was convulsing all over. If I focused with everything I had on relaxing, I could minimize the convulsions, but as soon as a contraction would hit, they’d start again. DH was trying to touch me, but his touching me was like more stimulus to make the convulsions worse. If I paid attention to anything at all other than relaxing, they’d just take over.

Somewhere in there, I thought I might have been pushing, but it was impossible to tell what was real and what was spasms, and talking was nearly impossible too, so I didn’t say anything. I remember hearing them page my doctor repeatedly, but she never came. Because Zoe was born at 5:45 pm, I know I must have pushed her out. It must have been during that period, but I truly don’t know. I remember hearing the anesthesiologist come in. I remember hearing that they couldn’t get my pulse or blood pressure any more. I remember feeling all the contractions. I remember the anesthesiologist taking charge of the room, ordering epinephrine, and getting my blood pressure back. I remember hearing someone say that the placenta wouldn’t deliver, and hearing the anesthesiologist saying that we needed an OR because they couldn’t fix that in the room. I remember hearing him order an OR for us, and telling the people in my room that he wanted that OR ready by the time we got down there, and he wanted blood waiting for us by then, and he wanted an OB waiting, because there wasn’t time to lose.

I remember yelling at DH to tell Zoe I loved her. I still couldn’t open my eyes, and physically trying to talk was so hard, but I needed her to know. I think I also told him to say goodbye to her for me. I remember feeling my bed moving down the hall pretty quickly and feeling it hit the wall hard. There was construction on the L&D floor, and the hallway was partially blocked by it. I remember the doctor saying something about the bed, and everyone getting their hands clear, and we backed up and were moving again. I remember feeling the elevator, hearing the doctor sarcastically ask for “a little help here” to move me from my bed to the operating table. I remember someone taking my sock off, starting another IV, putting an oxygen mask over my face, and then feeling someone’s fingers right at the base of my throat. My last conscious thoughts were “why would someone be feeling my Adam’s apple?” and then “they’re going to intubate me. This must be worse than I thought.”

I woke up in post op around 10 that night. I was told that I had hemorrhaged severely. My OB had done a d&c to remove the retained placenta. They’d done a blood transfusions and when I seemed stable, I’d been taken to post-op and my DH had been informed all was well. At some point after that, before I regained consciousness, I’d started to hemorrhage again. It was bad enough that they didn’t even inform DH, just took me back for surgery again. They were able to stop the bleed that time. Eventually I was taken up to a bed in critical care, and after another blood transfusion there the next morning, I was returned to L&D for one more night, while they kept me on antibiotics to deal with the massive infection I’d had. I never saw or held Zoe. They’d have brought her to me the next day, but I knew she’d have been in the morgue. I didn’t want to remember her cold and still. I just didn’t think I could handle that, so I never saw her. DH tells me she looked like her sister, which is a very “guy” kind of a description, but it’s how I’ll remember her.

Wednesday afternoon I was discharged. My nurse was Jeni – the same lovely woman who had been with me during my first admission. All of the nurses were amazing, but it was nice to see Jeni one last time before leaving. When she wheeled me out to the curb so DH could pick me up, she realized that another nurse and new mom with baby were waiting at the pickup door. Without saying anything, Jeni found another place for me to wait, so I didn’t have to be there with the other happy couple who were taking their baby home. I’m grateful for that.

Those are my memories. They’re not pretty. It took three months for me to be out of constant physical pain. I will always regret that I never saw or held Zoe right after she was born. I know I got extremely lucky that the hemorrhaging stopped and I kept my uterus. It could have easily gone the other way. I feel like I should have some great closing for this entry, but I don’t. The only closing that I have is that I’m a mom to two beautiful girls, and I miss them. Zoe, Alexis – I love you.

Worst Days of My Life, part II

I left the hospital on Monday. At that point, I had an ultrasound appointment scheduled for Wednesday, to make sure the girls were both still alive. My doctors scheduled it at my request, because I was so upset and wanted to know that I hadn’t already lost one or both babies. If we made it until the following Monday, my anatomy scan was scheduled for that day – 18 weeks and 1 day.

The days at home were brutal. I was in so much pain. My digestive system remained in haywire mode and I was in so much pain that there were times I couldn’t make it back to my bed from the bathroom. I just had to stop and lay on the floor and try to breathe. I’ve had long standing issues with my digestive system that I was told would require surgery one day. Everything that was happening exacerbated them, making the pain even worse. The fact that I had to remain sitting down all day compounded it further. There’s nothing like having a sore bum and not being able to get off it.

I had been told that babies can continue to replenish their fluid, so I was drinking as much water as I could. That meant that every single time I moved at all, water would leak out of me. It was constant, and I was constantly wet. As the days passed, the rash on my hands spread, and eventually wound up covering my bottom as well. My OB said dermatitis, and told me to use aquaphor on my hands, but that seemed to make it worse. It was really just one more type of pain along with the rest, but it sucked because it meant that I couldn’t hold DH’s hand.

Tuesday morning came and we breathed a small sigh of relief, because there were no signs of labor, and my temperature was still looking normal. We’d crossed the 48 hour milestone. The next one would be one week. If we made it a full week with no infection, there was a good chance of keeping the babies in, at least until viability at 24 weeks. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, since I knew babies born at 24 weeks face incredible struggles. Only about half survive, and a large percentage of the survivors have permanent impairments due to prematurity. I didn’t want that for my girls, but I certainly didn’t want to lose them, either, so mentally it was tough. I spent many hours out of each day holding my belly, talking to them, and telling them to stay put, stay healthy, and keep growing. I must have told them their dad and I loved them about a thousand times over that week.

Throughout all of this, my family was AMAZING. They got a mini fridge, and moved that and a toaster over up to my bedroom, so I could get myself food. They moved a big armchair up to the bedroom, looking out the window, so I could sit and watch the antics of our squirrels as they tried to eat all the crab apples from our crab apple tree. They cooked the most amazing food. And something that touched me an insane amount: they got a folding table and chairs, and brought it up to the bedroom so that we could eat meals together. That one bit of ‘normal’ made so much of a difference to me. I was in pain. I couldn’t eat much. I felt awful. But it was still so wonderful to sit with the people I loved and have a normal lunch or dinner.

My friends were also awesome. They sent me a ton of things to keep me busy on bed rest – coloring, books, candy. They checked in on me all the time. You can see LBG and one of the coloring books here, along with my chair looking out the window. This was pretty much my view for that week. Bed and the chair.

To our relief, Wednesday’s ultrasound showed both girls were still alive, but Zoe’s AFI was only .6. Knowing that we needed a value of 2 or greater to develop her lungs was tough. The check showed no sign of infection, so we headed home to continue to wait.

Thursday I woke up ok, but my temp went up to 99.2 at 2 pm. I called my OB’s office, and was told to stay home unless it broke 100.5, but that they’d schedule a Friday appointment to check me out. Thursday afternoon I hit 100 exactly, and thought the end was probably near. By 2 am Friday, I was down to 99.2, and I was back to 98.6 at 7 am Friday. At the appointment, my temp was normal and as I had no uterine pain and no foul discharge, I was sent home again, with instructions to keep monitoring things and come back for my anatomy scan as planned on Monday. Our next milestone was going to be Sunday morning, and we were all hoping I’d make it there.

Sunday morning I woke up in pain like always. I feel like I’m being a whiny baby complaining about it, but the pain was so severe that it really became my entire world. Pain, leaking water, fear, and gratitude for my family was pretty much all there was during that week. I don’t know why, because nothing at all was different, but I had the very clear thought on Sunday morning that I was almost to the end. I’d been telling myself the whole time that I could live with this overwhelming pain for the next four months if it meant saving Alexis and giving Zoe a chance, but Sunday morning I had this feeling that I wasn’t going to have that option. I reminded myself that Sunday was a week out, my temperature was still good and I’d stopped bleeding. The only thing that was leaking was clear, metallic smelling fluid, and that meant our chances were better than ever. That didn’t stop the feeling.

Sunday proceeded like a normal day. Breakfast and lunch with the family. Lots of water. Diarrhea. Pain. Leaking fluid. Sometime around 2 or 3, though, leaking fluid turned into another gush. I got up, and more fluid soaked through the pad I had on. I changed, but it happened a second time, at which point I called DH and told him we should head to the hospital, because I thought Alexis’ water had probably broken, too. DH, MIL, my dad and I all got in the car with a bag for my husband, and headed in. I called my OB’s office and left another message. Like the previous week, they called back while we were en-route and let me know that L&D would be expecting me.

Worst Days of My Life

I’ve thought for a while that I should share more of Alexis and Zoe’s birth story. It’s not a happy read, but I want to remember it. I want to remember them. I’ll split this into several parts because it’s so long. Here’s the first part.

My mom was out visiting us in October. She helped prep the nurseries and she took care of our yard. Since I was still retching on the regular and puking on the occasional, DH and I were so grateful for this. Mom was scheduled to fly home the day I hit 17 weeks, and then come back for Xmas. We took her out to dinner the night before she left.

That night, I woke up in the small hours of the morning with intestinal cramps. I spent quite a bit of time on the toilet, then went back to bed, and got up a bit before 7 when I heard my mom up. I went to start toast, and realized I had to run to the bathroom again. When I got there, I had more intestinal cramps, but just when I thought that was done, there was another big cramp, and a gush of air and water. I got scared for a minute, and tried to tell myself that I’d just farted and peed simultaneously. I told myself I was just getting scared for no reason, and I’d feel silly about it later. I sat still for a while, and when no more water came out, I stood up slowly. Still no more water, so I cleaned up and went back to the toaster. DH came downstairs right about then and started to make eggs for breakfast.

While standing at the toaster, there was another gush. I could feel it soak through my pants. I ran back to the bathroom, confirmed that it was clear fluid, and yelled to DH and my mom that I think my water just broke.

No surprise, they weren’t expecting to hear that from me. I was trying to keep my shit together, so I told DH to get my car keys and my wallet from upstairs, and I was going to grab a towel, head to the car, and call my OB while DH drove me to the hospital. My mom grabbed her suitcase and we headed off, while I left a message with my OB’s answering service.

The on call OB called me back while we were en-route, and told me he’d make arrangements to have me admitted straight to L&D triage, where they’d do a swab and potentially an ultrasound. DH dropped mom and I at the curb and the front desk ER staff got me a wheel chair and navigated the maze up to L&D. When we got to the triage front desk, I could only manage to get the words “I’m 17 weeks pregnant with twins” out before I started sobbing too hard to add “and I think my water just broke.”

They got me into a triage room, got me undressed, and at first things looked mostly dry. When the nurse went to do the swab test, the water started coming again. She sent the swab to the lab. I told her that I’d never before so badly wanted to be told that I’d peed myself. Eventually the results came back: amniotic fluid. DH, mom, and I were taken back down to the u/s to see exactly what was going on.

The u/s screen showed right away: both girls still had heartbeats, and both girls were still moving, but one baby no longer had any fluid. The sonographer told us that it was Baby B, Zoe, whose water had broken, which was a shock to everyone. Usually the lower baby’s water will break. I was sent back up to triage after that.

At that point, the doctor from my practice came in. They told me they’d admit me for observation overnight, and so MFM could consult with me in person on Monday, but that there wasn’t anything they would do to stop labor if it began and chances were pretty good it would. MFM later reiterated this – that the risk to me of trying to keep the babies inside once labor started after pPROM was too great. DH and I got no say in the matter. We were told that I’d most likely deliver within the next 48 hours, and the most likely cause of the rupture was infection.

Somewhere in there, my mom caught a cab to the airport. We were taken to a room in L&D, and had the most amazing nurse, Jeni, with us for most of this time. Like many of the nurses, she held my hand, gave me hugs when I needed them, and was so incredibly compassionate that I’ll always be grateful.

We called my MIL, and she arrived late that evening on the first flight she could get. I sent my dad and step mom a text to tell them what had happened. They reached out to DH, told him they wanted to come out too, which they did. I was so incredibly grateful for all of their support. The day before my water broke, DH, my mom, and I had gone to Babies ‘R Us to register. Mom found this absolutely adorable stuffed giraffe, and bought it for the girls. At some point, DH went home and brought the giraffe back, to watch over us. This is as unflattering of a picture of me as possible, but you can see LBG (Little Blue Giraffe) keeping an eye on things.

At that point, the waiting game began. I was told to monitor my temperature every four hours. Anything over 100.5 would indicate infection and require me to deliver. So would any foul smelling discharge. I had lots of clots and bleeding, but nothing that didn’t just smell metallic.

The next morning came with no fever, no discharge, and no labor. 24 hours past rupture was the first milestone, so we were thrilled. MFM came and told us that it’s so rare for Baby B’s water to break that they couldn’t predict what would happen. I might already have an infection, since that’s the most common cause of pPROM. If I didn’t, then Baby A, Alexis, might block infection from getting in, allowing them both to make it to term.

Then the MFM shared more bad news. Babies need amniotic fluid for lung development. Unless Zoe had an AFI of 2 or greater (fluid level), her lungs probably wouldn’t develop, and she’d likely die at birth. With this knowledge, we were sent home for home bedrest. By the time I left the hospital, I had a horrible rash over both of my hands. Red, painful bumps. I was also in an incredible amount of pain from my digestive system, as I kept having bowel movements and cramps every few hours, which had already triggered hemorrhoids and a fissure. I knew 48 hours was the next milestone, and I just prayed we’d make it.

Bear With Me

It’s now been a month since we said goodbye. I have lingering complications that have left me in more pain than I could have imagined. If they don’t resolve on their own, I’ll be facing surgery at the start of January. I’ve been told that surgical recovery is two weeks of true agony when heavy narcotics are needed, then six weeks of pain. This terrifies me because I left the hospital on 800 mg of ibuprofen every 6 hours, 650 mg of Tylenol every 4 hours, and 2 Ox.ycodone every 3 hours, and that did NOTHING for the pain I was in. I can imagine how much worse it will be after surgery, and I know that the drugs just don’t help. Overall, more difficult choices ahead.

That all reflects the physical part of healing. The emotional part is another matter. I have my good moments and my bad moments. I don’t think the postpartum hormones help, or the fact that I’m still in too much pain to return to my “normal” life, so I’m left with little to do. I hope the physical healing can help to be a catalyst for the mental healing. In the interim, I hope you’ll indulge a few things I want to share.

I only took one “bump” picture my entire pregnancy, because I was so sick the whole time I didn’t feel like it. Although the girls are gone, I feel like I need to share this. Why? Because it’s one of the last good memories I have with them. Because I hate that there are times it feels like they weren’t real, and by sharing this photo, I can disprove that feeling. Because, out of everything that happened that I might have controlled, I get the most upset that I never got to see or hold Zoe, and this photo reminds me that I got to hold her for 18 weeks and a day. Maybe just because it’s a talisman to me, that proves that DH and I can make beautiful, healthy babies, so that gives me hope that one day we’ll get to be great parents to babies we can take home and raise.

The other picture I want to share is of the girls’ bears. I mentioned how amazing the Fairview Southdale nurses and doctors were. Also amazing are two other parents, who also lost a child at Southdale. They started a program to give small teddy bears to other parents delivering babies who will never come home. This is a lousy picture, taken via my cell phone a few hours before we left the hospital. But these bears are so precious to me. Seeing them snuggle each other gives me hope that my girls are out there somewhere, taking care of each other.  In the first days home, DH would bring them to me, and we’d just hold each other and the bears on the sofa and talk to our girls. I have conversations with the bears most days. Today we went to the picture window and I showed them the six deer who were grazing in our yard. Am I crazy? Well, of course, we’ve known that for years! But does it help to think that maybe our girls are up there somewhere, listening as I talk to their bears? Yes, it does. To the parents who started this program: I am so, so sorry that you went through a loss, but so, so grateful to you for what you’ve done with it.

So Many Thanks

I feel like there are so many things I need to say about what’s happened in the last few weeks and months, but I’m not sure I have the words to say any of them. Let me start with a few things that are top of mind, and that’s thanks to our amazing families and to the incredible staff at Fairview Southdale hospital.

My mom came out to visit around 16 weeks and did an amazing job getting the nurseries ready for the girls. I was still feeling pretty awful, but mom took care of the painting and the yard. Had things ended the way they should, our girls would have had beautiful rooms thanks to my mom’s help.

When Zoe’s water broke at 17 weeks, my MIL flew out and was there by 9 that night. My dad  and step mom were there by 6 the next morning. I would not have made it through the last two weeks without their help and love. They took care of everything for me when I was stuck on bedrest and half out of my mind with pain. They also stayed with us when I went into labor. My Dad and MIL drove DH and I to the hospital when I was sure Alexis’ water had broken, and they stayed all night in the hallway and waiting room until Alexis was born, and then continued to stay until close to midnight that day after Zoe was born and I was out of surgery and conscious again. They kept us fed and clean and kept us company when being alone would have been too hard. I will never have the words to thank then enough.

I also need to recognize the amazing staff at Fairview Southdale hospital in Edina. From the first night there when Zoe’s water broke through labor, two rounds of surgery, and a multi-day stay, every single nurse and doctor we interacted with was compassionate, attentive and understanding. When my OB was called away to deal with another emergency as I delivered Zoe and started hemorrhaging, the anesthesiologist (who has the exact same name as my dad) stepped in with no hesitation and in all likelihood saved my life. I will be forever grateful to the team there for their care and compassion.

There are quite a few more thank yous needed for friends and colleagues who kept us in their prayers, but I’ll save that for another day. For now, I am so grateful for the wonderful people who did everything possible to make the worst possible situation as ok as possible. 

Zoe Grace and Alexis Marie

I am someone’s mommy.

At 12 weeks, we had the CVS done that showed we were pregnant with two healthy girls. I spent the next five weeks in a state of joy, despite the horrible morning sickness and constantly feeling terrible. We shared with family and friends and we waited excitedly for March when we’d get to meet our girls.

Their names were Zoe Grace and Alexis Marie.

At 17 weeks exactly, Zoe’s water broke. The three of us held on together for one more week on home bedrest, in the worst agony of my life due to other complications. At 18 weeks, Alexis’s water broke as well and I went into labor.

Alexis Marie was born a few minutes before 8 am on November 7. DH and I got to hold her and tell her how much we loved her. Those minutes will always be some of the most important of my life. She was so beautiful and perfect and tiny.

When I had not delivered Zoe nearly 8 hours later, I was moved from Pitocin to cytotec. I started having convulsions, and was not entirely conscious when Zoe was born around 5 pm. I know DH held her up to me so I could say goodbye, but I have no memory of that. He tells me she was perfect, too. I believe him.

I started hemorrhaging after delivery and was taken to the OR for two rounds of emergency surgery. I lost about half of my blood volume, but the doctors were able to stabilize me and save my uterus.

Zoe Grace was 8 inches long and 6 ounces. Alexis Marie was 8 inches and 5.5 ounces. I love them both more than I thought possible and miss them more than I can say.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that these were my girls, I am their mommy, and I will always love them.

Like Mother, Like . . . .

I know I've been absent for a while. Too long. In this case, no news is a combo of good news and horrible morning sickness.

Let's start with the morning sickness. Every day. Nausea. Burping, oh dear god the burping. Uncontrollable retching. Vomiting. The only time I didn't feel like death was when I was asleep. You'd think that's good, right? Because most pregnant women get really tired in the first trimester. During my first pregnancy, I got the best sleep of my life until it ended at 10 weeks. My head would hit the pillow, any time of day, and I'd be out.

Now? Nope. No sleep. Why, you ask? Because I've managed to develop a case of pregnancy-induced Graves Disease. That means that my thyroid has gone hyperactive. My heart is constantly racing and feels like it's pounding in my chest. My ability to sleep past 2 am is minuscule, and I have trouble falling asleep. Add those symptoms to horrific nausea and you get a really special brand of misery. It kept me off the computer unless I needed to be there, hence the radio silence.

I asked my OB for something for the nausea. At that point, I was down 7 pounds from my starting weight, which I told her. Her response? "Yes, it's worse with twins. Try eating crackers." It was a 'let them eat cake' moment if ever one existed. Needless to say, I'll be seeing other OBs in the group from here on out.

But that takes us to the good news portion. Two weeks ago, I went to the U of M's MFM center for CVS testing on the babies. After that, DH and I held our breaths and waited for the next shoe to drop. It never did! The FISH results revealed two healthy girls! We are over the moon excited.

I got the babies' full karyotypes back yesterday. The genetic counselor was great and told me everyone was healthy. Then she told me that Baby A is a totally normal 46xx, while Baby B is a 46xx with a pericentric inversion of chromosome 9. I guess there's no denying that one is mine!

I am madly in love and desperately hopeful that I'll start feeling human again soon.

Maybe They Are

Maybe they are. . . my lines, that is. Second ultrasound was on Tuesday. I've been really nauseous. I threw up for the first time over the weekend, and it's been mind over matter to keep from heaving at various points since then.

Despite that, the 'what ifs' crept in.

What if your morning sickness is just psychosomatic?
What if they stopped developing, but your hcg is still up so you're still sick?
What if they turn out to have heads shaped like cornmeal muffins, because that's the only thing you're eating?

It wasn't pretty.

The ultrasound on the other hand, that was pretty. Two perfect babies. They've gotten so much bigger since 6 weeks. We could see brains and spines and arm buds developing. And both had beautiful, strong heartbeats. Watching them on the ultrasound probably goes on the list of the most amazing experiences of my life.

So that's it. I'm released to my OB. I have two more weeks of smurf crotch, and then I get to go drug free!

We still have to clear the genetic testing hurdle, and I'm scared of that one. I found out last week that I have a mutation of the ATM gene on my chromosome 11. That means I'm screwed up on both 9 and 11. I worry about what that might mean for these babies. But I love them, and despite the nausea and the burping, I am so damn happy to be here - almost 9 weeks pregnant, with two babies who have heartbeats!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Remember when I mentioned how messed up it was to want morning sickness? I also mentioned that even though it's messed up, I still felt that way, because it would give me some confidence I was still pregnant with growing babies?

Um, yeah. I got my wish. And while it does actually provide some infinitesimal measure of comfort that my hcg level hasn't tanked, it also doesn't help stop the fears of: 'what if one stopped growing?', 'what if they're both growing, but there are genetic issues?', 'what if there are no heartbeats at the next ultrasound?'

I will try to chalk this up to learning points #1 and #2 of being a parent:
#1: Your kid(s) will make you sick. Maybe that's via pinkeye or the cold going around school. Maybe that's via morning sickness. Either way, get used to it, it's unlikely to stop soon!

#2: You will always worry about your kid(s). You'll worry while they're growing inside you. You'll worry when they're out and struggling with friends or school or any of the million things that kids struggle with. The fact that you love them and want the best for them pretty much consigns you to a life of at least some worry.

While I'm getting used to those learning points, I'm trying to keep food down and not going near the computer as much, because I have this odd motion sickness from focusing on the screen. Since I was the girl who loved riding in the backward facing seat in the station wagon, and who read voraciously while driving, motion sickness is entirely new. Still, if less computer time means less violent nausea, well then I'll write to you again in the second trimester!

A Miracle or Two

The last 11 days have been some of the roughest in my memory. I have bled every single day. I bled on days I stayed still. I bled on days I was active. I bled while sleeping and while sitting on the sofa. I also cramped.

I told myself those can all be normal pregnancy symptoms, because they can.

As for the rest of my symptoms, they vanished. No sore boobs. No nausea. Nothing.

I told myself that can be normal too.

So I took a few home pregnancy tests. The cheapies from China. The Wondfos. A week ago, they were distinctly lighter than they had been. Took one this morning, at 6 weeks, 3 days. For those of you not into peeing on things, the dilution of your urine can have an impact. I'd "held it" for 5.5 hours. The line? Lighter than it was back on 13 DPO when I had my first beta done and only "held" for 4 hours.

That? That I couldn't justify away. There's no logical reason for a super light line. Today was ultrasound #1, and with a light line, I figured there was no chance of a happy ending. I took the afternoon off work and planned on spending it coordinating a d&c in the coming days.

But I guess miracles do happen. Because yesterday, three days after my 10th wedding anniversary, and on the due date of my first loss, the ultrasound showed two perfect heartbeats.

We have a long way to go yet, but for this moment, I'm head over heels in love.