At 20 weeks four days pregnant, I was placed on bedrest due to pre-term labor complications in my twin pregnancy. At that appointment, I was given a dire report by a dire doctor who I haven’t gone back to see. You see, by nature, I’m a pessimist. I’ve always believed the worst will happen. I don’t need a doctor who is a pessimist. I need a realist with a healthy dose of optimism. I found that in my regular OB.
I digress; being on bedrest, you do a lot of thinking. A. LOT. If you aren’t very creative and surrounded by an amazing support network, well then your mind can go down dark paths that fill you with fears of what can happen…all things beyond your control. But as I lay on my couch, alone, I retraced my pregnancy.
From the moment I conceived, I didn’t believe this miracle would happen to me. I had regular bleeding which couldn’t be explained.
Then there was the night, at 9 weeks pregnant when I woke up covered in blood, sobbing the words; “I’m losing them.” I spent the night in the hospital and waited what was only hours but may as well have been a lifetime to hear two strong, beautiful heartbeats…And to be told, that I had a large subchorinic hemotoma, greater than 50% of one of the gestational sacs. The risk: I would pass the clot but because of its enormity, it would/could pull out one or both babies. They said hopefully it would be just one. I sat numbly; no. I don’t want one. I want both. I loved them both. There was no consolation in thinking one might survive and the other might not. We, from conception, had become a team. These were my daughters. My warriors. We three cannot be separated. So I was placed on bedrest for the first time. I tried to lose myself in positivity and prayer and all things good. And miraculously the clot dissolved.
Through it all…it’s been a struggle. There hasn’t been one week where I sighed and relaxed and just…just was me, a pregnant woman blissfully happy. I’ve been a blissfully happy pregnant woman filled with fear.
At 20 weeks four days, we were told the strong likelihood of losing our girls. From then on, I lied on my couch and wrote. I wrote a lot. I ticked each day off, counting down to viability and beyond.
21 weeks wasn’t enough. We needed more time.
At 22 weeks, I crossed the week off my calendar but knew we needed still more time.
At 23 weeks, they began to feel suddenly real, in a way they hadn’t before.
At 24 weeks, they became even more real.
At 25 weeks, I began to realize that what had seemed at one time intangible was so very close. My cervix is failing, but they are still ‘cooking’…and every day is a victory.
The things I’d put off out of fear and numbed hopelessness; the nursery, the baby clothes, the double EVERYTHING, the names…are finally things I can wrap my mind around and believe they’ll be real.
Alas, I waited too long. I can’t shop. I can’t do much of anything, really.
What I can do is dream of two perfect names for my princess warriors. They can no longer be simply Baby A and Baby B. They deserve more than that.
So here I turn to you for ideas. What names can you come up with for these two miracles who continue to defy the odds?