Two Wild : The Twins' Birth Story

I am two years removed from the birth of our twins: Eliza and John Haddon. I should have written this sooner. I know. I said I would.  In some ways, I can remember the day like it was yesterday. In other ways, I find myself deep in the black hole that is the vaporized days of Coronavirus.  It was the year where time stood still, yet oddly ticked on.  The time were nothing happened at all, yet everything moved on with compete disregard for the events that would be. It was a strange time, indeed.  And yet, I said I would write down the events of the day, so that when my memory is taken, the words would still stand. But there's little extra that can be done when you are juggling 5 kids under 5 years of age, two of which are critically dependent premature twins. So we are two years removed from the days of empty fullness and full emptiness.  Now, it feels as if the fog has somewhat dissipated, somehow I have a few more moments today than I have had in the past two years.

And now, the twins are two.

June 2 was a planned day for the twins to come into the world.  Planned by God, but carried out by my gentle giant of a doctor.  June 2 was picked not because I wanted 6-2-20 to be the twins' birthday, but because my doctor was scheduled to deliver 2 other sets of twins that week, and 5 sets in total for the month of June. Needless to say, it was a busy week for the labor and delivery unit.  I was 4cm dilated and progressing as expected at 37 weeks and 5 days.

We got to the hospital at 7am. I was in a great mood, though craving coffee that was forbidden to me.  The physical act of giving birth is one of my most favorite things I have ever experienced: pushing through grueling pain, the high of endorphins, the sensational relief; and I'm pretty sure the Air-BnB atmosphere with celebratory steak dinner for new parents has something to do with it. I'm certain I would have 10 more children if (1) that was the Lord's good plan for my life and he opened my womb, (2) my emotional capacity held no limits and (3) carrying children wasn't so brutal on my weak frame.

Before going into the hospital, I was already having some contractions. Nothing too intense, but perhaps my body understood that it was go-time. Upon checking in, unpacking my bag, and getting the run down of the day from nurses, I got my IVs and was given the lowest dose of Pitocin to simply get the ball rolling faster.  The contractions increased, but in a way, the pain was less erratic than the previous 3 births.  For this reason, I was able to enjoy the entire birth experience from start to finish more so than the others.  Each birth is just as special and unique, they are just different. And different is not to be equated with bad.

They closely monitored the babies from the very beginning.  It's a strange thing to feel two babies inside you at one time. You can actually feel the difference between babies and tell when one moves compared to the other.  It was also quite externally visible on my stretched and bruised skin. Baby A (Eliza) was such a cooperative baby, which happens to be quite the paradox. Baby B (John Haddon) couldn't be found on the monitor.  The heartbeat for the twins was registering with the same cadence for both, which isn't normal.  After several attempts and not being able to find a proper heartbeat for Haddon, my doctor pulled out the ultrasound in order to confirm that he was safe.  Graciously, he was, however he was transverse and breech to the birth canal. My dreams of a vaginal birth becoming more up-in-the-air with each passing moment.

I was very upfront with my doctor about wanting to deliver the twins vaginally, and he was very honest from the get go with me. Because Baby A was in the correct position, he would allow me to attempt delivery.  Apparently vaginal twin births aren't as common any more due to lawsuits, lack of doctor experience, and a significant decrease learning how to deliver twins in residency.  I knew there was a chance that I would end up with a Caesarean, that is the case with all birth, but for high-risk twin pregnancy, even more so. Regardless of the method the twins came into the world, I would be delivering in the OR.  My doctor said the worst case scenario was if I were to deliver Baby A vaginally and Baby B surgically. Double healing. Double trauma. Double pain. But in the end, double the baby and double the love.  

Early in the labor process shortly after the Pitocin drip, I asked Mark what time he thought the twins would be born.  He rashly says 10AM, but me, trying to calculate my pain and how my body was feeling confidently said "I think I'll have the babies at 2pm." This is an important part of the story as you will see.

I was able to have some pain medicine as the contractions picked up, but because the anesthesiologist wasn't on the floor, I wasn't able to get an epidural early in the day.  In some ways this was a blessing, because historically, once I get an epidural, it's go time.  Mark stayed by my side and rubbed my head, played Shane & Shane hymns in my ears.  It was calming knowing he was constantly there with me.  I couldn't imagine being forced to give birth without my husband, but this was a reality that too many women during this time had to face due to regulations from an unknown virus. It's useless to speculate, but I'm sure the events of the day could have and would have looked different without him next to me.

Throughout the morning, the nurses checked on the babies, and Mark and I watched several episodes of Friends as the cool drip of medicine coursed through my veins. I can't really articulate just how calm and enjoyable the day was. Unlike anything else I've ever done.

Around 10am, my doctor suggested that he break my membranes, but I declined.  I didn't want him to. I don't know why, I just didn't. Maybe I was afraid it would stall labor. Really I don't remember. I just wanted to wait. So I did.

The contractions were come and go. Nothing constant and rhythmic like previous births. That was a bit discouraging. Would I be able to deliver my children? Would I end up in surgery? More discouragement came when Haddon's heart rate continued to flip-flop and evade the monitors. Looking back, the medical team were class acts in managing the stress and creating a peaceful atmosphere.  Never was there any noticeable reason for panic in my doctor, even though my intuition told me, "There are things that aren't normal here, and maybe you should start to worry, Renee."

The anesthesiologist was makings rounds on the L&D floor. It was now...or suffer.  I was strongly recommended to get an epidural in the event that I needed emergency surgery.  I obliged willingly.  I had an epidural with all the other children. It was something I was comfortable with at the time, something I knew what to expect. Routine, if you will.  I received the epidural around noon.  This was the best anesthesiologist I have ever had. She was kind and gentle. And willing to listen to me proclaim the gospel as she asked about my anatomical heart tattoo which was exposed to her view.  I told her I was going to deliver the twins vaginally, and as if I was an enigma, she asked if she could come watch me deliver the twins.  And as if we were best friends, I enthusiastically told her, "YES." Mark couldn't be in the room during the epidural so he went to the lobby and during this time, he read through Psalm 119.

The epidural kicked in, and I was able to manage the contraction pain slightly. Unfortunately, just like every other labor experience, my inguinal hernia felt as if it were going to explode. Epidurals don't work on intestinal nerves, so it felt like lava-hot swords were piercing my hernia from the front of my groin through my left glute. For that, there is no relief to be had. It was what it was.

My doctor came back and suggested that the amniotic fluid be released.  So I let him break my water.  This immediately caused the floodgate of contractions to rush through my back.

I groaned. There was a lot of groaning by 1pm. That's to be expected when not one, but two watermelon-sized children are about to stretch through a dime-sized hole.  I asked Mark to call the nurses so they could check my progress.  I was still only 6cm, surely the end had to be near. More groaning. More uncomfortable positions.  More unable to move, paralyzed by the 60 pounds I carried around my scared mid-section with stretched abdominal muscles rendered useless below the weight. The clock turned on. The minutes passed and the pain increased. It was 1:30pm now. Mark graciously called the nurses again to find out I was 8cm.  Rapidly progressing.  Me mentally regretting my decision to hold off on breaking my water.  I could feel so much pressure.  It felt like 10 minutes went passed and I knew we were drawing near. Still 8cm. But the pressure was unbearable. Finally I told Mark it was time. I knew I was about to have the babies.  I reached 10 cm in what felt like a second. Fully dilated within minutes.  It was 1:50 and I was quickly wheeled away to the OR and Mark was instructed to scrub up. It was really happening.

Everything in the OR was like a bright white blur. It seemed as if there were 90 people in there, all buzzing around doing their own specialized thing, working together like a well-oiled machine. My doctor was there at my feet. Ready to meet these children.

Baby A, Eliza Hope, entered the world with cries and pink skin at 2:00. Yes, 2:00 on the dot. Between babies, I told Mark that I had won. It was 2:00, and I had given birth. Simple, easy, fast, with 1 push. Eliza, 6lb 4oz, was given over to nurses because I had yet another child to deliver. 

Between Eliza and Haddon being born, what I didn't realize was that I would have another membrane to break and more water to lose. I had not thought that far into the birthing process.  Another amniotic sac. Obviously. They were di-di twins: meaning they had their own amniotic fluid and their own placenta. At that moment I realized that I would also have to deliver 2 placentas.

Unfortunately, Haddon, who had presented problems all day, continued in the like manner. Though he was transverse, he flipped and flopped and was now breech.  Another attending literally jumped on top of my stomach trying to turn him.  It was to no avail.  Haddon was going to be born breech or I would have a c-section. The one scenario my doctor wanted to avoid at all costs. Time was ticking. Moments were passing. I remember there being such a fast paced calm in the room.  Like everyone was trying their best to not panic and just do their job, but what they were all trying to do what seemed to be a first for so many in the room: including my anesthesiologist that giddily waited around after her shift ended to watch the spectacle.  It was as if they were cheering me on, and really, they were.  When the external version did not work, my doctor outshined every other doctor there's ever been.

I can only describe what happened as feeling like there was an octopus inside of me.  My doctor was up to his elbow, inside of me trying to pull my son out of the birth canal. Yes, his elbow!! He later apologized and we had a good laugh.  Two years later, I think my ribs are still recovering. My doctor first grabbed Haddon, but realized he had a hold of a hand and a foot so he said he had to go fishing again, blind, to find Haddon's other foot. It was 7 minutes later and Haddon was delivered, feet first, into this world at 2:07pm at 6lbs 9oz.  He was not crying and was dark blue and he was immediately given to the nurses who knew exactly what needed to be done to ensure his safety.  I was painfully aloof to the situation. In the mean time, I delivered the two placentas while a nurse treated my stomach as if she was tenderizing a piece of chicken. Without missing a beat, I asked if I could take a picture of both placentas. That's the biologist in me. It was remarkable to see how absolutely different both placentas were, in size and in vessels.

Miraculously, I had no stitches.

Miraculously, I had no tears.

Miraculously, I had two children, born into this world. Seven minutes a part.

"Do you hear that? That's the sound of your baby boy! He is crying. He's okay," one of the nurses said.

I'll remember those words forever.

I hadn't realized Haddon didn't cry.  I didn't see that he was born blue. I didn't know he wasn't okay.

Again, the sheer ability of the medial team to create an environment free from stress and anxiety was truly magical. Absolutely remarkable.  Everyone was so encouraging. So reassuring. So protective. So careful. So professional. So exactly like you want your medical team in a time where life is truly on the line.

Haddon ended up having a few more complications within the first few months of life outside the womb due to the nature of his birth. He inhaled a lot of amniotic fluid when he was pulled from the birth canal. He turned into a little glow worm as he spent hours and days under the bilirubin light at home. He had acrocyanosis in his legs for a month. However, both babies, by God's sovereign plan, were able to leave the hospital without any time in the NICU. A massive praise and answered prayer. We know it could have been very different. The seriousness of twin birth and staying in the NICU is not lost on us.

I was wheeled back to our hospital room and life with two babies had begun. Throughout our time in the hospital, nurses checked in on us and some nurses just came to our room to gaze at the women who delivered twins vaginally.  I didn't feel like a superhero; in fact, I'm not one.  I can't take any credit for how the babies were born.  Had I had any other doctor, I would have ended up with a c-section.  That's what my doctor told me anyway.  No other doctor would have even attempted a vaginal delivery.  So it wasn't me.  But I presume that because it is so rare at that hospital, everyone wanted to see.  My doctor, who I adore and respect with all that I am, made it possible.  I know my birth narrative could have been told another way.  And if that is what the Lord had ordained, I am convinced that would have been what was best for me.  In the end, I said my first "hello" to my children and called them by their name.

It's been two years of navigating two children at one time; or rather 5.  If you could peak into our world, you would see a lot of chaos.  It looks like jumping through hoops you didn't know existed, saying phrases you didn't think you'd have to utter, and a seriously dependent mom juggling the needs of 5 dependent children. You'd see it doesn't look as glamorous as an Instagram feed. It's much harder, much more constant, many more laughs and tears.  It's rather mundane. Quite painfully ordinary.  But what you also can't imagine is how much joy is found within these 4 walls as a family of 7. And in that, I find there is so much good to be had.

Happy 2nd Birthday Eliza and John Haddon.

We give glory to God for your precious lives.