Oh February 14th...a day of love celebrated as Valentine's Day. A day that will NEVER be the same for us. We awoke (not that we really slept much) at the hospital to the nurse bringing a dosage of medicine to continue the induction process. She told us the doctor would be by at 10:00 to bring another new medicine to move the process along further.
Meanwhile, my precious Mason and Maddox were loved and cared for and receiving all kinds of Valentine's Day love and care.
At around 10:00, the doctor did come by, give me the first dose of the new medication and told us that this process could be very long and likely not much progress would be made before midnight that night. He was open, honest but caring and he said "Prove me wrong." And I told him I intended to do just that.
Here I am at 10:34 a.m. Hospital chic, I call it. 😳
Around 12, a friend came to bring Matt some lunch and sit with us for a bit. It was a nice visit and distraction but while she was there, I started getting very uncomfortable and was having obvious contractions. When she left, I stood up and moved around some and called the nurse. She gave IV morphine and I felt a bit better. Around 1:30 p.m. (1:32, I believe), I felt a huge rush, and began screaming. I wasn't hurting but I didn't know what in the heck had happened. (I delivered Mason and Maddox via caesarean so this was new for me in many many ways.) Matt called the nurse and she came immediately along with many other nurses and shortly after them, the doctor. Just that quickly, our sweet boys, Maxwell and Marcus, had been delivered. It was scary and heartbreaking and awful while also being such a relief as well.
The nurse took the babies and the doctor checked and said I had not delivered the placenta yet. They began Pitocin to try to help me deliver that. I was losing lots of blood but no placenta. The doctor came with the ultrasound machine and while he was doing the ultrasound, I started shaking, feeling queasy, sweating, and more and he said it was time for a D&C and he wasn't waiting. It was a rush at that point. The nurses rushed in to prep me while a phlebotomist took blood so they'd know my blood type if I were to need blood. I was throwing up, freaking out and all the things.
Around 3:30/4:00, they rushed me to the OR and began the procedure. I was told it was quick and simple and completely safe and that the doctor was so glad he'd gone ahead because it would have been necessary regardless of when just because of all that had happened. Praise the Lord for protection and safety in many many ways.
While I was in recovery, Kris and a photographer friend of hers were in our room taking pictures of our precious boys for us. We knew that we would want those later (as of now still haven't seen most of them.) and didn't know how much time we would be able to spend with them in the moment. I'm grateful that happened. When I was released from recovery, we wheeled in and our precious nurse, Kirby, brought our sweet boys over to us. Maxwell and Marcus. We held them in a little crocheted cradle for a bit. We cried and stood in awe that their little bodies were all that they were even at 15 weeks+. It was heartbreaking and awful but also beautiful and precious.
After a short time, our hearts couldn't take any more and we asked the nurse to take them. It was the easiest and hardest good-bye of my life.
After that, we cried a bit more and gathered ourselves to give our friend our dinner order because at that point I had not eaten in nearly 24 hours and my body was weak and in need of sustenance.
Matt and I were still in shock for the rest of that day. It's just something you can't really explain.
Despite the hard and awful of that day, God was there. Matt and I were there supporting each other and we got to see our boys for that precious, short time. And that is something, I'll never forget.
Further proof of the care our sweet boys received. ❤️❤️❤️
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