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Sunday, December 8, 2013

What If....

Some people call it fate. Some choose the term luck. Others, would indicate the presence of God.

For me, on November 15th, it was a string of ‘what if’s’…

Being co-managed by several doctors due to my complicated pregnancy invariably results in ‘complications’. Who is checking my cervix? Who did the measurements of the babies? Sometimes lines get crossed and when those lines get crossed…well, you sit there frustrated. Annoyed because you want your life to just be well-ordered, so you feel like you have a sense of control.

My what-if’s began on Wednesday November 13th.

I was erroneously booked a doctor’s appointment in the middle of the day. As I can’t drive, and my husband likes to go to all appointments, we had to reschedule. We booked a standard ultrasound for Friday November 15th at 330. What if I’d gone to the Wednesday appointment…?

Instead we found ourselves  in the waiting room, anticipating a scan of our girls that Friday. The secretary came out red-faced, apologetic. “I booked you the wrong appointment. I booked you a consult.” She’s always so sweet and I felt incredibly bad for her because she was now uncomfortable but I said; “I don’t need a consult. I need an ultrasound.” She hurried off and spoke to the u/s tech and came back, once again apologetically “We see you are in the books for a cervical check with your doctor on Monday. Why don’t you just have the consult?” I turned to my husband, beyond annoyed. “Want to leave.” My husband shrugged. “We might as well see the doctor since we came to the appointment.”

What if we’d left? What if we’d gotten up and walked out the door?

We went into the doctor’s office. I decided I was going to milk this appointment. Every twinge I felt I asked about. Every flutter. My sugar. The weight of the babies. Questions I knew she didn’t have the answers too, I asked anyway. Then I told her about this odd pelvic pressure I was having. She paused and said she’d like to do an ultrasound.

Knowing my cervix was already fragile, I looked to my husband. “Want to wait until Monday?”

The doctor persisted. “I’d feel better checking.”

So she checked.

And my heart stopped. My already almost non-existent cervix had shrunk…it was measuring a mere 1.34 cm. I was only 27 weeks. I knew this wasn’t good.

She wasted no time. She contacted the labor and delivery floor and sent me off to the hospital.
All the while we drove, my mind spun. This was a routine appointment. This was a routine appointment.

We were rushed immediately up to labor and delivery. I was hooked up to the monitors. And it became clear. I was contracting. Not only was I contracting. I was contracting every minute. My doctor came in. A man who’d actually delivered my husband thirty something years ago. He studied the monitor and ordered the nurses to get together a regiment of drugs and steroids. For me. For the babies.

“I’m going to stop you. I think I can stop you.”

My heart was racing. What did he mean?  I held onto my stomach. It’s not time yet, babies. I whispered it in my mind over and over. But they weren’t listening.

Within moments, I was given several injections. None of them pleasant  and one of them that made my heart race and drove my blood pressure through the roof. Then they got me another injection.  “What is that?” I stared at it blankly.

“It’s for the lung development.”

Oh, God. I knew what this meant. This couldn’t be happening. I’d spoken to my OB in the past to know; those drugs are brought out in emergency situations. You only get one dose and one rescue round. But I knew what it meant. I’d already been told the steroids for my babies would be administered when they thought labor was imminent. 

I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t deliver these babies at 27 weeks. I knew what this would mean. Oh, I’d heard all the wonders of having babies in this modern era. But this is different. These are my babies. Babies who would have to fight to breathe, stave off brain bleeds, and spend countless months in the NICU. 80-90 percent survival meant nothing. When it’s your child…you don’t want to play with 20 percent. The sum is too vast. Too great. But then, even 1% isn’t really reassuring when it is your child.

Miraculously my doctor with God's great hand did indeed, stop me. I was even permitted to go home. 

Never before have I counted down time the way I do now. Not because I’m tired of bed rest. (which I am). And sometimes it feels as though time has slowed to a crawl.

But my girls, they continue to defy the odds in every way. They were the embryos that stuck when most doctors said none could or would. They fought through a massive blood clot. A short cervix at 20 weeks. They are my destiny.

And never have I been so eager to meet my destiny…but of course, all in due time. All in due time.

So here, to honor their amazing story, is a snapshot of my two little miracles since the beginning! 

The Girls on the day of their transfer 
(Hundreds of Cells)
                    The Girls 13 days past ovulation                             The Girls at 5 Weeks & 4 Days
The Girls at 8 weeks!

                                                        November 1st

                                                           November 1st


  1. Thank you for sharing your pictures. Our thoughts are with you and your girls.

  2. They really are the miracle babies. Keeping you in my thoughts. :)

    1. They are, aren't they? They like to defy odds. : )

  3. You are always in my thoughts and prayers, Christina. I'm so glad the girls and still safe inside you.

    1. Oh, me too, Ella!! I kept saying; if I got to 28...if I got to 29...and then 30...but I want more. Greedy, greedy me.

  4. Oh, sweetie, my eyes are blurry from tears. You and the babies, (hubby too) have endured so much, but God has definitely heard all the prayers for you. I love the images you shared and I can't wait to see the first pictures of the babies when they come into the world.

    1. Thank you, Collette!!! I'm so, so excited to meet them. I can't wait to see what they look like. : ) and hold them...counting down the days!

  5. Praying for all of you and counting every day with you. I thought of you last Friday when I knew it was 30 weeks and now you are getting closer to 31. I remember that feeling so well. I am so glad we connected.

    1. Thank you so very much, Sarah. Funny the bonds we find out we share. And I'm very glad we were brought together, too. I'll keep you posted how I make out! : )

  6. I’m so very thankful for you! This is just another example of how some things are simply serendipitous. It was meant for you to “push the envelope” and insist on getting yourself checked. I cannot wait to see those little girls but they must wait until they are fully ready! Hugs to you!

  7. Aww Christi. They're precious. Stay strong; they'd fighters and we can't wait for them either.

  8. I don't know if I've ever prayed so hard in my life as I did that day! So glad they are staying put- take care of yourself!