Candles of Hope

A couple weeks ago I got a package in the mail from a name I didn't know. The package turned out to be a care package from a fellow TTTS mom, one who had one angel and one survivor.

In the package was many different things - fuzzy socks, Hershey kisses & hugs, coffee beans, a journal, a book, a photo frame, a cross tea light candle holder and  tea lights

and three candles

I was overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness and love that when into this care package, I hope one day I can send one to a family in need of love and support. 

But let me go back to the candles. 

I have always loved candles! Anyone who knows me knows that I love candles!

I had heard of people having "memory candles" for their babies that they light only on special days and thought this was a neat idea, but didn't know how to find the right candles. 

Then in dawned on me, I already had the right candles. 

We had candles for each baby-2 pink candles for Leah and Rachel and 1 brown candle for Gabriel. 

Yesterday, I decided to clear our mantel of all the cards and decided I would display these candles, along with other gifts that had been given to us. 

It's probably difficult to see, so let me walk you through what is on our mantel. 

On the far left is the carnation that was given to us the day after our babies were born.  

Next is the "Angel of Hope" given to us by our dear friends Anna and Jeff (normally I don't care too much for the "faceless people," but this one is perfect!)

Then are the candles for Leah, Rachel and Gabriel, in that order-birth order. 

Then the cross tea light holder. 

As I was looking at all these and thinking about when I would like these candles, it dawned on me that in my care package was a pack of 12 tea light candles. 

I have decided that I will use one tea light candle on the 27th of every month for the  next year to honor and remember our beloved children. As the tea light is burning, I will also burn "their" candles. 

Tonight we burned these candles. 

It may not seem like much, but the simple act of lighting a candle gave me a moment to reflect on each one individually. 

Their lights burn ever so brightly. 

And tonight, they remind me that these candles, just like the angel, are candles of peace, love and especially hope. 

...and every sunset hold more peace

I've always been fascinated with sunsets.  

I love watching the sun go down and soaking in the different colors.

I find it all very peaceful and somewhat magical. 

Last Monday I went to Lakeside for a few reasons. I had hoped that attending opening worship of the East Ohio Annual Conference would be up lifting. Last year I had the honor of being a part of the service and while I longed to be up there again this year, I was hoping my soul would be moved without touching the piano and without hundreds hearing my voice. 

Another reason I went was because my Uncle Mike would be there. I don't see my Uncle Mike too often but I hear from him when he texts a daily bible verse. We created some wonderful memories last summer during Annual Conference, so while I was looking forward to sometime alone, I was also looking forward to spending time with him. 

Lastly, I was looking forward to watching the sunset. 

Last summer I was absolutely amazed by the beauty shown across the sky as the sun set into Lake Erie. I would make my way to the pier well before it set because I loved to watch the whole play, not just the final scene. You enjoy the final moments of the sunset so much more if you see and remember where it was coming from. 

When I first got down to the pier (around 7) I was afraid that I was going to be disappointed in the sunset. It looked like there were some clouds that may get in the way. But I wasn't giving up hope just yet. 

I sat there, reading my book (C. S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed") and glancing up every few minutes to see how the portrait was changing. 

Don't get me wrong, it was turning out to be a nice sunset, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a little disappointed. 

It wasn't quite what I wanted. 

I wanted to feel more, to see more... I wanted more. 

And it was at that moment, when the sun had set, that I looked up and saw God paint a most gorgeous scene.  It was as if He heard me and replied "Don't stop looking too soon. What you've already seen was beautiful, but the best is yet to come."

And it was beautiful and breathtaking. All the colors you can imagine, vivid and bright yet soothing and peaceful. It was in this moment I felt God reminding me that life isn't over, that I can't "stop watching"

Easier said than done, right?!

I kept hearing over and over again in my head a quote that got us through our last few days in the hospital - "May every sunrise hold more promise and every sunset hold more peace."

I know that we will continue to have rough and difficult days. I know that this isn't an easy road and that somedays will seem more difficult than others. But it's during those times that I will cling to that Sunset and the peace it gives just as I will cling to the Sunrise and the hope and promise it brings. 

In some ways, it's just like being in the hospital on bed rest, celebrating every day. And when a day seems overwhelming, celebrating an hour - or if need be - the moment. 

One moment, one hour, one day at a time...and I'll say a prayer of thanks for every one of them!

Finding our new "normal"

Writing about the birth - and death - of our Leah, Rachel and Gabriel was very hard, but something I know I'll appreciate having.  Knowing that whenever I want to, I can read my thoughts and reflect and remember those precious, yet horrific moments seems to help a little.

It's been two weeks since we said hello and goodbye.  And just like many would expect, it's been a roller coaster as we try to find our new "normal."

Through the three deliveries, I had lost a lot of blood (over a liter, I think they said...) and while I was feeling fine physically the next morning, my blood counts kept getting lower and lower (If I remember correctly, normal is around 11-12, at one point I was down to 6-7).  So I ended up getting two blood transfustions. 

What I didn't know about transfusions was that each transfusion was going to take around two hours, and then we'd have to wait five to six hours after the last one ended to check my blood again.  It was around noon when they started the first transfusion, so we knew that if we were going to be discharged on Tuesday it would be late.  Thankfully, Dr. Wolfe understood that we wanted to go home and told us that as long as my blood counts came back OK, they would discharge us, regardless of the time.

As the evening went on, waiting for the blood count to come back, I asked Andy if we could see our babies once before we left.  I needed to see them all together.  They had spent five months growing inside me together, and while we had time with each baby individually, it was important that the last time I see them on earth (even though they're already happy in heaven) be a time that they're all together.  Right away, Andy said he wanted to see them, also.

Maddie (our favorite nurse) told us my blood counts came back OK and they were working on the discharge papers (it was after 10).  Andy started taking our stuff to the car (we had accumulated a lot in the 2+ weeks we were there) and Maddie went over my discharge papers with me.  I them told her that after everything was done, signed, we would like to see our babies before we left.  As soon as everything was taken care of, Maddie brought us our babies.

I will never forget those moments.  Seeing our children together, laying side by side, looking like they were sleeping, will be the memories that I will see first when I think of them.  When I talk of them, I will see the beautiful, yet different, faces looking peaceful.  When others ask how I am doing, I will see our three side by side, knowing that they never will experience the pain of this world.

Andy and I prayed for them, we put our hands on them, Andy sang to them, I kissed each baby and then we said our goodbye.

Those were - are - beautiful moments. 

We left University Hospitals, hand in hand, holding back tears (or sometimes letting them out).  It was an overwhelmingly emotional moment.  Saying goodbye to what had been our "home" was harder than I expected.  Don't get me wrong, I was so thankful to be going to our real home, sleeping in our own bed, getting my own food whenever I wanted, feeling human again.  Yet, here we were, leaving the hospital without our babies.  As a pregnant woman, you don't enter a hospital pregnant and expect to leave without your babies.  Whether they are still growing inside you or in your arms, they're with you.  I now had to leave the place that carried the most hope for our babies, the best care and go home empty.

I cried myself to sleep that night, but I was thankful to do it in Andy's arms.  I knew the road before us was going to be rough and long, but I knew we could do it together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We spent the next few days together. We found an "excuse" to get out of the house every day - groceries, little things for home improvement stuff, out for lunch, etc.  We watched TV.  We rested.  We cried.  We felt loved.

We got together with our parents and shared our memories with them.  Our parents met Leah, Rachel and Gabriel through their memory boxes.  Not the way any grandparent wants to meet their grandchildren, but this was the only way we had to offer and we felt it was important for them to meet them. 

The following Monday Andy went back to work.  He worked from home that day, so it wasn't like I was alone (plus Mindy came up to visit) but, this was one step toward our new normal.  When he went to the office on Tuesday I didn't realize how much I would miss him.  I kept busy, but it wasn't the same.  Andy and I hadn't spent more than a few hours apart for the past month.  Even when he was working, he was always by my side.

The love and support we've been receiving from family and friends has been overwhelming.  Don't get me wrong, nothing can truly help us heal except for time, but people do help.  Sometimes it's more painful, though.  Sometimes reading through the cards, especially if we've had a "good day" just reminds us of all we've lost - all our hopes, dreams, prayers.

Don't get me wrong, I would much rather have people remember our babies and acknowledge their existence, even if it's only with cards.

But it doesn't make it any easier.

Then again, nothing about this process has been easy.

So for now, we (continue to) take it a day at a time and find our new normal.

our hearts are broken, but our spirits aren't...part 4

It was then that our already horrible day was about to get worse news.

Since my epidural was now working, the Doctors came back to scan Baby C and see where we were.

Throughout this pregnancy, Andy and I have seen a lot of ultrasounds.  We know what the heart looks like, stomachs and bladders, amniotic fluid levels, etc.  And while we weren't technicians, we knew the moment they scanned Baby C that something wasn't right.

The Dr. stopped the ultrasound and told us that someone, Baby C's heartbeat had stopped.

Are you kidding me?

His heartbeat couldn't have stopped!  He was our strong baby boy.  He never had any issues, why would he now?  I just gave birth to our baby girls - they were born with heartbeats - how could his have stopped?  Why would it have stopped?

Then I realized something terrible.  After Leah died, we still had hope for Rachel.  After Rachel died, we still had so much hope for our baby boy.  Now that our baby boy was dead, where would we find hope?  How was I suppose to give birth to our baby that had no hope for survival?  How was I suppose to give birth to our baby that was already dead?  

I wept and cried out to Andy that this wasn't fair and I couldn't do it.  How could I do this?  How was I suppose to do this?  I was exhausted - emotionally and physically - I couldn't bear the thought of having to do this, let alone knowing there was no turning back.

How Andy stayed strong, I'll never know, but he held me, cried with me, and told me we could get through this.  He promised he would stay by my side, continue holding my hand and we would go forward.  He reminded me that our boy was already with his sisters again.

Once again, Dr. Armstrong told me whenever I felt a contraction to begin pushing.  This time, with the epidural in place, it was a little more difficult to feel the contractions.  I literally had to keep my hand on my stomach to feel it tighten or the nurse had to keep watching the contraction monitor to tell me when to push.

Just like Rachel, our Baby Boy was breech and Dr. Armstrong had to break his water.  After that, I don't think it was many contractions/pushes before he was out.  Gabriel Andrew was born at 2:05pm.

What a different experience from Leah and Rachel.  All three births were so different - just like all three babies are so different.  At Gabriel's birth, there was the Neonatologists and pediatrician teams waiting.  There was no "nurse" - or whatever she was - waiting with the standard baby blanket on her chest and holding her arms out, ready to take him after he was delivered.  There was no one there for our Gabriel.

Before he was born, Dr. Armstrong asked if we wanted to hold him immediately after birth.  I remember thinking "Why?  Why would I want to hold him immediately - he's already dead - he has already left his body and joined his sisters?"  So we asked for the nurse to clean and wrap him first.  

After Gabriel was born, Dr. Armstrong asked Andy if he wanted to cut his cord.  I sat there, silently weeping as Andy said no.  I can't blame him.  

I can only imagine how Dads feel during childbirth.  Here is the woman you love (hopefully) who's body has grown and adapted to grow this child (or children) and now she has to physically get it out of her body and all you can do is stand there beside her.  All you can do is hold her hand.  All you can do is remind her that you love her and that she's so strong.  Eventually, when the baby is born, cutting the cord, I feel, is traditionally saved for the Dad.  That is HIS moment.  Dad may not be able to actually participate in the labor of the birth, but he can cut the cord.  He can free his child from the womb, so that it can be welcomed into loving arms.  

But that's all for a live baby.  And our Gabriel was not alive.  

So, while I don't know what was going on in Andy's head during that moment, if I were him, I wouldn't have wanted to cut the cord.

I just have to give a side note for a moment: Andy had done so much - he held my hand, he stayed by my side, he encouraged me (he even told me that if he was doing something I didn't like or want, to just tell him and he would stop!), he told me he loved me, he told me I could do it, he told me I was strong, he told me it was going to be OK - he did everything he could, everything I needed him to do.

While the nurse was cleaning Gabriel, Dr. Armstrong told me that I would still need to deliver the placentas and she was hoping I could (and that we wouldn't have to go back into the OR)  I, too, hoped it would be easy.  Within mere minutes of Gabriel's birth, I felt the need to push again and asked Dr. Armstrong if I could.  She said it was probably one of the placentas and if I wanted to push, I could.  It didn't take much to get what was left of the pregnancy out of my body.  

After looking it over, Dr. Armstrong, noticed that all three babies' cords were connected to this one piece.  It seemed that somehow Gabriel's placenta had fused together with Rachel and Leah's.  Assuming this was the case, after Leah and Rachel were born, their placenta probably began to detach from my uterus, and since they were fused together, it took Gabriel's too.  With a detached placenta, Gabriel was no longer receiving what he needed to survive.  

Of course, for a brief moment I wondered "Could we have changed this?  What if we hadn't waited the hours we did after Rachel?  What if we delivered him right away?"  But as quickly as those thoughts entered my mind, I quickly pushed them back out again.  There was no room for any "what ifs..." Because truthfully, I believe that our outcomes were going to be what they were going to be, and I had to believe that God spaced out the births for some reason.  Even if only to give us time to grieve over Rachel and receive the epidural for help with the physical pain.  He knew we needed a little time.

After all these thoughts, I knew it was time to hold our baby boy.

One might think after already holding and crying over two babies earlier that day that this might be easier - but nothing can prepare you for what it's like to hold your dead baby.

Gabriel, our sweet angel, was beautiful.  Long fingers like his sisters and already had eyebrows like Andy.  Andy said, and I agreed, that he looked the most like a "normal" newborn.  Gabriel seemed to have the best coloring.

Just like we had done two times before, we held our precious baby.  We prayed for him, we surrounded him with love and we told him to continue watching over his sisters.  (We had decided on the name Gabriel long before we were pregnant and the name stayed as we learned we were having two girls and one boy.  It was only appropriate as the girls developed TTTS, that their baby brother who's name was that of the angel Gabriel in the bible - "the strength of God" - was physically on top of, protecting his sisters.  He was always higher up in my belly and usually sideways...)

After our time with him - we said goodbye.

Our nurse took him away and said they would prepare a memory box for him, just like his sisters'.

Andy held me and we cried.  There was nothing we could say to each other that we hadn't already said - or that would help.  There was nothing anyone could say or do that was going to help in that moment (or in the moment and days to come) our three, precious babies that we had been praying for, that we longed for for months, that we were so excited and honored to be the parents of had been born and died all within nine hours of each other.  This had to be more than any person should ever have to face, more than anyone should ever have to go through, yet we were.  We did.  

The worst, physically, was over, but the emotional pain was just beginning.  

our hearts are broken, but our spirits aren't...part 3

As the Doctor/nurse shift change was happening, I tried to mentally prepare for what was ahead - I would give birth to Baby B.

While I was tired, I had hope so much hope for our "Party Girl."  We knew she would be bigger than her sister and I also knew that she was our super active baby!  She was always doing cartwheels or practicing her Tae-kwon-do - something to remind me she was there.  (As if my ever growing belly wasn't enough)

The new Doctors came in - Dr. Armstrong (a familiar face) and another Dr. (the head of the department?) introduced themselves and went over "the plan."  The goal was to deliver Baby B and then start Delayed Interval Delivery. I think this was when they gave me the steroid shot for the babies' lungs.  This wasn't going to take immediate effect, but we hoped that Baby C would hold off, and the steroids would help.

After a quick ultrasound to check on the babies, both still with strong heartbeats, then went to prepare for labor.  They told me whenever I felt a contraction to begin pushing again. 

I should've known that this child wouldn't enter the world without a little fight.  Dr. Armstrong had to break her water (I knew it would have eventually, I think this may have helped speed up delivery...) and she was breech.

I kept pushing and pushing and pushing and felt like I was getting no where.  Then, suddenly, the pressure and pain increased greatly.  I remember Dr. Armstrong telling me she was close, and Andy confirming, but I was screaming in pain - truly afraid I wouldn't be able to go on.

I have never felt that immense pain before - I just wanted it to be over.  Thankfully, one more push and she was out.  Rachel Elizabeth was born at 8:40am.

I knew we wouldn't hear a cry (once again, something that made delivery so difficult.  After you go through the pain of labor, parents are suppose to be greeted by the first cry of their child.  A cry that says "Here I am!  What is this bright, new world?"  Not only were we missing out on that part of delivery, but now we had no idea what her chances of survival were.)

They whisked Rachel quickly to the room next door and I kept staring at that door waiting for the Neonatologist to come back.  After experiencing Leah, I was waiting for bad news.  With Leah, it was within minutes that the Neonatologist came back.  So, after 5-10 minutes had passed, I started asking Dr. Armstrong what was going on.  She told us she didn't know (I knew she didn't, she was with me the whole time!) but that someone would be in to update us soon - no news was good news, right?!

As Dr. Armstrong and nurses prepared me to go back to my L&D room (they were starting Magnesium in my IV to try and stop contractions, as well as a few different kinds of antibiotics...) someone finally poked their head from next door to say that Rachel was doing OK, they were still working on her, but Andy could go see her. 

Andy went next door to see her (I don't think he could touch her yet...) and came back after a few minutes to show me a picture of her.  She already looked different than her sister.  She looked bigger, healthier, she looked like a survivor. 

As they started moving me out of the OR, they told us that Rachel wasn't "out of the woods" but that they were taking her up to the NICU to continue working on her.  While I didn't know exactly what this meant, I didn't know what they needed to do (I knew her lungs were under developed, so I assumed they needed to help her with her breathing...) I knew that the fact they were able to take her up to the NICU had to be a good sign.  They said they would let Andy know when he was allowed to go visit.

The next few hours were a blur.

After we got adjusted back in our L&D room, the magnesium hit me.  Nurses had warned me I would feel hot and it would probably last for 20-30 minutes.  When that happened, I couldn't get cool.  They got me a fan, but I felt like by the time the fan was starting to cool me down, the magnesium hot flash was starting to go away, of course, and I quickly got cold.

Like I said, things are sort of a blur, so I'll write what I remember, even if it wasn't the exact/correct order of events.

They continued monitoring contractions, which didn't seem to be slowing down.  I was still in pain from Rachel's labor and the continuing contractions were not helping.  While we all were hoping and praying that Baby C would wait, the nurse asked if I wanted an epidural just in case.  I said I did.

I felt so weak when I asked for the epidural.  For years I had been telling myself that I wanted to have a pain-free birth.  My mother had done it, plenty of other women had done it, our bodies were created to do it, so I want to do it!  But the pain of Leah and then Rachel was overwhelming.  Between the lack of sleep and already going through so much emotionally, if I could get help with the physical pain, I needed it.

The Anesthesiologist came shortly and talked with us about an epidural - how it works, what are the risks, etc.  He had me sign a form or two then said he would be back with everything. 

When he came back, he said that it was a "sterile proceedure" and Andy wasn't allowed to be in the room while it happened.  I believe this is when Andy was told he could go see Rachel in the NICU.

I was scared about getting an epidural.  I don't know why - I had just given birth to two babies without any medication - but I feel like many people have talked about how painful it is.  The most painful part for me was having to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.  Everything from my ribs to my thighs was so so sore that any little bit of movement hurt.  The nurse helped me and then she put her arms around me and told me to hold onto her so I could curl my back for the epidural.  Not knowing how much it would hurt, I started singing in my head "I'm not gonna worry, I know that you've got me right inside the palm of your hand"...I sang that line over and over and over...I couldn't seem to move unto any other part of the song.

The epidural didn't hurt at all.  The Dr. said it would take 20-30 minutes for it to kick in.  The way he was checking to see if it was working is he would poke me with a either a needle or pin.  He first poked my forehead and asked if that hurt/felt sharp - of course it did.  Then he would start poking different parts of my leg.  At that time, every poke he made felt as sharp as it did on my forehead.  After 20-30 minutes had passed, it wasn't getting any better.  The Dr. decided to give me more medicine and wait and see if that helped.

I believe it was during that time that a Neonatologist came and told us that Rachel wasn't going to make it.  They said that they tried everything they could, but she was unable to breathe on her own.  They were bringing her down to us.

When they brought Rachel to us, she was still on the ventilator, they were taking her off as soon as they were beside us, taking her out to hand to us. 

Unlike her sister, she wasn't bruised and had a slightly more normal coloring.  But she was still small and fragile. 

Andy and I held, loved, cried, prayed and soaked in every moment with her. 

We knew that nothing was going to bring her back, that she was being held by our Heavenly Father, arms much stronger than ours, but I didn't want to let her go.

She was perfect.  Two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, five fingers on each hand - and she already had tiny fingernails.  I cried and cried and cried.  And once again, watching Andy hold her was overwhelming.

After we spent our time with her, we said our goodbye.

The Doctors came back in to check on Baby C with an ultrasound.  Unfortunately, it looked like he wanted to follow behind his sisters and be born today - he was lower and preparing to enter the world (and just like his sisters, was breech).  The Doctors said we weren't in a hurry, but based on my continuing contractions, Baby C wasn't going to wait too long.

I remember crying to Andy I couldn't do it.  My epidural wasn't working, I was still in so much pain, I couldn't bear to deliver another child.  Like he had been doing all morning (and every day of our lives) he told me I could - we would get through this.  He reminded me that our baby boy has been the biggest baby during all of our ultrasounds and he's never had any issues - he's going to be OK.

Trying to put aside the grieving of our baby girls, I went to focus on the hope of our baby boy.

The Anesthesiologist came back and said we would have to take the epidural out and put another one in.  Once again, Andy had to leave the room, and I had to somehow manage to hold myself up and sit on the edge of the bed.  But at least this time, I knew what the procedure would feel like.  Still, to keep my breathing even (or as even as it could be) I continued singing "Steady My Heart."

Thankfully, this time it worked.  Within 15 minutes, I couldn't feel much of anything below my armpits, which meant it was working a little too well (I should be able to feel above my belly button) so the Dr. adjusted the medicine a little bit.

There was some time during these hours, that I looked down at my stomach and it felt so small!  With only our baby boy in there, it was so weird to look at and feel my stomach already smaller.  I felt smaller, once again, weak, but still had so much hope for our baby.

I believe it was around this time that Pastor Jan came to visit.  I don't know if Andy had texted her anything about how our morning had gone or whether she simply was coming to see us like she had been most days.  As much as I didn't want to see ANYONE when the nurse first told us she was there, eventually I knew that Andy and I both needed to see her.  We needed a little peace to get us through the rest of the day.

She didn't stay long.  Long enough to cry with us and pray over us and all three of our babies.

our hearts are broken, but our spirits aren't...part 2

The next 12 hours were a blur.

They told me they were going to move me into an O.R. because our current room was only equipped for one baby.  I kept checking with the Drs. and they with me that we wanted delayed interval deliver.  Just because it was time to meet Baby A, didn't mean it was time to be B and C.

I remember asking my nurse on the way to the OR if it was too late to have an epidural.  She said she believed it was because it normally takes about a half hour for the epidural to set in and I was already 10 cm dilated, so Baby A wasn't going to wait too long.

As soon as we got into the OR and everything was set up.  There were Drs. for me, Drs. for the baby and plenty of other people.  My nurse was by my side, there was another lady near us constantly checking on the babies on the ultrasound machine.

Dr. Fuhrig and the other Dr. (I don't remember her name) told me that the next time I felt a contraction I should push.

While that sounds easy enough, I had no idea what to do!  I was having triplets, I was suppose to be having a C section, so I didn't read up on anything about labor and delivery!

Baby A, having lost her water over two weeks ago has already been very low.  Fortunately or unfortunately, she was breech.  (Drs. had said fortunately earlier because it meant it was more difficult for her to come out than being head down.  But now that we were in delivery, I didn't want more difficult.)  That being said, we knew she wasn't that big, and with only a few pushes, she was born around 6am.

They quickly took her next door where the Neonatologists and team were waiting to do all they could.

Within a few minutes, the Neonatologist came back in our room and I instantly knew she wasn't there with good news.

She told us that our baby - Leah Naomi - was born with a heart beat, but she was unable to breathe on her own and was too small to be assisted. 

We were devastated. 

While we knew that Leah's chance of survival had been behind her brother and sister, we also knew that she was a fighter.  She had survived weeks of being the Donor twin in TTTS and had continued to survive and grow without any amniotic fluid for over two weeks.  She had already survived so much in her short life inutero that we had never lost hope for her.

Now that she was out in the world, however, it simply was too much for her.

Within minutes, they brought Leah to us.  I will never be able to put into words what that moment felt like.  The joy of holding your baby for the first time was still there.  Here was a tiny (only a little over a pound) baby that we had created and had been growing inside me for the past five months.  Yet, there was an unbelievable amount of sadness as I held my baby knowing she wasn't alive, she was already in Heaven.  It was in that moment that I realized that while I was holding her, I would never feel her breathe, I would never hear her cry, and that all of the hopes and dreams we had during the pregnancy would never come true for Leah.

We cried, we prayed, we loved.  I didn't know what else to do.  I kept staring at her, wanting to memorize every part of her.  The Dr. had warned us that because she was without fluid for awhile, her skin was very fragile and very bruised.  She was very bruised - her skin was very red, not the normal "pink" of a healthy newborn.  But she was still perfect.  She had beautiful, long fingers - Andy said she would've played piano.  And I kept thinking she had a "Husted nose."  She had tiny little ears, a little mouth and was less than a foot long.  She was wrapped in the standard hospital blanket and then had an additional, beautiful hand-made afghan and hat. 

I wanted to hold her for forever, never let her go.  Since I couldn't keep her safe inside of me, I wanted to keep her safe in my arms.  But I knew that she was already in the safest arms that would ever hold anyone.  After holding her for what felt like forever, but I'm sure was only a few minutes, I passed her to Andy. 

Watching him hold our baby girl, rocking our baby girl, crying over our baby girl was almost too much to bear.

We had wanted a baby so badly and we had both prayed so much for these babies.  I replayed how I saw him when I told him we were pregnant and then every time we had an ultrasound - especially when we learned about our two girls and one boy - and realized I would never forget the way he looked when he held our Leah.

We gave her back to the Neonatologist who told us the nurses would be taking care of creating a memory box for us - pictures, foot prints, etc.  At the time (and now) I'm so thankful this is something they do for families.  We weren't in any emotional state, and I wasn't in any physical state, to take care of this.

I tried to regain my composure.

That sounds so stupid.  We just lost our baby, how could I have a prayer to control my emotions.  But I knew we had two other babies that needed our attention.  I was determined that we wouldn't give up.

Praying Baby B would wait, an ultrasound showed that she wasn't, that we couldn't do delayed interval delivery, at least not for Baby B. 

While this wasn't what we wanted to hear, we knew that because they shared a placenta, our chances of holding off delivery were small.

By this time, it's going on 7.  The Drs. kept telling me to push when I felt a contraction, but I wasn't feeling contractions as often and they didn't seem to be as strong.  I pushed a few times, but felt like nothing was happening.

My lower back was killing me.  I don't know if if was the position I was in, if it was "back labor" or what but it hurt.

The Drs. said that Baby B wasn't coming right that second, did I want to talk to an Anesthesiologist.  Did I want to talk to a what?!  Don't get me wrong, I knew what an Anesthesiologist did, but I was dealing with so much.  I had just delivered Leah without much pain (truly the pushing wasn't as painful as the contractions leading up to it had been) why would it be any different with Baby B.

I told them not right now but could they do something about my lower back.  Within minutes I had a heated IV saline bag for my lower back (not your normal heating pad, but it was a quick fix as they got heating pads.)

Since Baby B wasn't in any hurry (how appropriate, this little girl was our little wiggle worm during ultrasounds, never cooperating with the technicians to get the scans they needed!) the Drs. told me I could rest for a little bit, breathe through the contractions and not push.

This was also nearing the shift change for Drs. and nurses.

We had to say goodbye to Dr. Fuhrig, our face of comfort, but knew that Dr. Armstrong, another Dr. we knew was coming.

The next minutes were weird as Drs. and nurses prepared to leave.  The room started emptying and they asked if we'd like to see Leah again. Since the first time we were still surrounded with Drs. and nurses, we knew this would be our time to be a family.

Slowly, one by one, the Drs. and nurses left.  They said their goodbyes, as they were off shift, and gave us their condolences along with their best wishes for Babies B and C.  We would told to take as much time as we needed with Leah and to call for the nurse when we were ready.

As soon as everyone left the room, it was the one and only time it was just Andy, Leah and I.

We spent that time as a family - once again praying for Leah, crying over our loss though knowing that she wasn't fighting or hurting anymore, not that it made it any easier.  I continued to study her every feature.  I swore to myself that I would never forget these moments, that I would never forget the way she looked, that I would never forget how tiny and fragile she was, how much she didn't weigh, and how much I already loved her.

our hearts are broken, but our spirits aren't...part 1

It's been a week.

One week since we went through what may be the most traumatic event in our lives.

It was one week ago that welcomed our three beautiful babies into this world, and one week ago that we said goodbye.

I've been wanting to write this post for the past week, but it just hasn't felt right.  Don't get me wrong, there will never be a "right time" to write this but I do feel it's important to write it.  If for no one else, than for me.

My last post was from Tuesday, May 21st after we had a growth scan/ultrasound.  The days after the ultrasound went on as every other day in the hospital.  Dr. comes in around 6-6:30am to check on me, order breakfast, the Doctors make their rounds in the 8 o'clock hour (usually) where they ask if I have any question (rarely do we since nothing has changed) and if there's anything they can do for us that day (once again, not much you can do for me when you want me to spend the day in my hospital room/bed), then I'd spend the day watching the news, surfing the internet, reading, painting my nails, eating...anything to pass the time until it was bedtime.

On Friday, May 24th we went for another ultrasound - all was well.  Our girls seemed to be very stable at TTTS Stage 1, and since the MFMs didn't think I was in any position to travel should we need the laser procedure, it was decided that we would only have weekly ultrasounds (we had been getting 2-3 a week for 3+ weeks...).  While it was sad to hear that we would only see our babies once a week, we knew that this was good news because it meant that our babies were stable.

That same day, Dr. Wolfe (MFM) started conversations with us about "interventions" - monitoring the babies, steroid shots for the babies' lungs, delayed interval delivery - and also told us we would be meeting with a Neonatologist that afternoon (We were hitting 23 weeks on Monday and 23 weeks and 500 grams is when the Neonatologists can resuscitate the babies.)

We met with a Neonatologist that afternoon who gave us a lot of information on survival rates and severe disabilities.  We knew that at our current gestational age, our babies chances of survival were still in the single digits, and it wasn't until 25 weeks that the percentage of survival hit the 50% mark.  With all the information, though, we weren't giving up.  We had made it two weeks in the hospital already, what was another two...or four...or six?!

After meeting with the Neonatologist, Dr. Wolfe came back to talk with us about:
     1. Monitoring the babies - sounds like a good idea, right?!  Begin monitoring the babies so we know that they're doing well.  However, should something go wrong, we would have to act on it.  Makes sense, right?  But when you have to care for the well-being of THREE babies, you can't necessarily put one baby ahead of the other two. After discussing this with each other, we knew that 23 weeks wasn't the time to begin monitoring. 
     2. Steroid shots - If your body is going into pre term labor, they can give you a steroid shot to help the baby's/babies' lungs develop.  The shot has to be given at least 24 hours before the babies are born and it's only "good" for 7 days.  After discussing with each other and Dr. Wolfe, we decided we would do the first shot on Monday (when we're at 23 weeks) then she said we would do it again at 25-26 weeks and again at 30 (she said 30 weeks!!!)
     3. Delayed Interval Delivery - It's exactly what it sounds like--one baby is delivered then they do all they can to STOP the next baby from delivering right away.  Studies haven't shown this to always work.  Sometimes it gives the second baby a couple extra hours, sometimes it gave many weeks.  It is normally not offered for mono-di twins (twins that share a placenta - like our girls) but Dr. Wolfe said she was willing to try.  We told Dr. Wolfe that should my body go into labor, we wanted to do all we could to try delayed interval delivery.

That was our Friday.

It was a lot of information to take in, a lot to discuss, a lot to read and while it might seem like a lot to decided, I'm so thankful that Andy and I have always been on the same page with all these decisions.  So many times when we've been presented with something, we look at each other, one says "so I was thinking ________" and the other says "I agree."  Having a supportive partner, who's been beside me every single step of the way has been the other way to get through everything.

That weekend was a little different than the others.  Saturday was my 25th birthday and Andy did so much to make it special!  He got me non-hospital food for ALL MEALS, took me for a "walk" (in a wheelchair), sat beside me all day long, then even watched a movie together that night (as uncomfortable as it is for two adults to cuddle in a twin bed).  I can't say it was the way I had imagined my birthday if you had asked me a few weeks ago, but it truly was a special birthday.  One I will NEVER forget.

After a wonderful Saturday, I woke up Sunday morning, around 6am (gotta love those vital signs!) feeling normal.  I had breakfast, took a shower, I was excited to see my parents, in-laws and James later in the day.  It was after the shower that I started feeling different.

I had been having contractions off and on for the past weeks, but they were never painful, it simply just felt like my stomach tightening.  This morning, I was still having some contractions/tightening, but was also having the feeling of cramps - a feeling I hadn't had in months.

After awhile, the feeling wasn't going away so I called the nurse - Sheila.  She told me to lie down on my left side, drink lots of water and asked Andy to write down the time of my contractions and she would be back in 10-15 minutes.  I had about 3-4 more contractions in the next 15 minutes when another nurse - Kristen - came to check on me.  She told Andy to keep writing them down and she went to go tell the Dr.

The Dr. (I don't remember her name...of course it wasn't someone I had seen/or at least remembered...) came in and decided I needed to go down to Labor & Delivery so they could monitor contractions.

The next 30 minutes were chaos.  I was a complete mess, and was unable to stop crying.  I was so scared.  The last time we were in L&D for monitoring, my water broke.  All I wanted was for Andy to hold me and tell me it was going to be OK, but the nurses had to move me to a different bed to transfer me down to L&D, then they had to move me to a different room and L&D.  Getting an IV proved to be difficult for the nurses, which is unusual for me.  Normally my veins are huge and very visible.  Eventually they got it going and started a saline drip.

All of the Doctors on the floor then came in so I could meet them and to make sure everyone knew "the plan".  The plan was to check on all babies, make sure they are OK, and to monitor my contractions.  The Drs. explained that my contractions could be happening for many reasons - I could be dehydrated (I didn't think this was the case, I've been drinking at least 1 gallon of water a day for the past 2 months!) it could be a full bladder (I know, make sure you drink lots and lots of water, because being dehydrated could cause contractions, BUT, having a full bladder could also cause them! UGH!) or it could simply be my uterus expanding/contracting to make room for three babies! 

After the Drs. left, my nurse, Melissa, told us that while we had every right to be emotional, that as of right now, there was no reason to worry.  And to just remember that until something changed, there was no reason to worry.

Easier said than done.  It took me awhile to calm down.  Thankfully, Andy was beside me the whole time.  As mentioned, our parents and Jamie were planning to visit that afternoon.  Andy called them and said that now wasn't a good time to come, we needed to get the contractions under control.  Because my parents were already up here, they decided to wait at our house until they heard more information.

Around 4pm, I was feeling better.  I was still having contractions, but they seemed to be spacing out a little bit (they were now every 3-5 minutes instead of every 2-4...be thankful for the small things, I guess) so I asked Andy to call my parents and tell them it was OK to visit.

They showed up shortly and we had a great visit.  They stayed for a few hours, talking, sharing stories, had dinner with us, brought up birthday gifts.  It was nice to have a few hours of "normal" conversation with them.  When they were there, Melissa came back to check the heartbeats, so they even got to hear all three heartbeats.  (Which were great heartbeats!)

They left around 8'ish.  And it wasn't too long after they left that the shift changed happened.  In walked the new set of Doctors.  One was a Dr. I remembered from our first time in L&D and Dr. Fuhrig (our favorite who I had gotten used to seeing every morning) were members of the team.  They decided that even though my contractions were spacing out, they wanted to monitor me over night.  As much as I would rather be back up in our room on MAC 6, I knew that staying to be monitored would help keep me "at ease" (at as much ease as I could be)

The nurse shift change happened shortly after, and in walked the nurse we had our first night in L&D.  While we didn't like being on L&D, it was comforting to have familiar faces. 

Andy and I tried to "relax"...we were reading, watching TV, not talking too much - there wasn't much to say that hadn't already been said.  We tried sleeping.  Unfortunately, every time I woke up, I woke up Andy and I started waking up every 30-45 minutes.  I just couldn't get comfortable.  I would try laying on my side, but that seemed to make the contractions feel worse.  I tried putting my bed down, completely flat, on my side, but it wasn't much better.  I tried propping my head up some, still only stayed asleep for 30 minutes before waking up again.

I did this off and on for a few hours.  I would call the nurse/she would be in to take vital signs and she kept asking me if I was having any pressure.  I told her I felt like I needed to pee, but every time I tried I couldn't.  TMI ALERT!!! I don't know if I just didn't have to go, or if having to go with a bedpan was difficult.  I mean, it definitely didn't make it easier...

After calling the nurse back a couple more times, I told her that something just wasn't right.  I still felt the need to pee but couldn't, and I was starting to feel more pressure, which, I knew wasn't right/good.  The one thought I do remember was noticing when midnight came and passed.  Now that it was Monday, we were technically 23 weeks. 

She quickly called on the Dr. and soon, Dr. Fuhrig came in.  After explaining to her what/how I was feeling, she did a quick exam and said that it was time to meet Baby A.

Dr. Fuhrig said if I was a religious person, this would be a good time to pray.  I told her I never stopped.