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.