Once upon a time I was advised by a physician that I should have what is referred to as a “therapeutic abortion.” He was my rheumatologist and he was treating me for a fairly significant lupus flare. When I told him that I was pregnant he slammed down my chart, threw a pencil across the room, called me stupid, suggested that I could not deliver a viable baby, and that to try could kill me. He went on to say that, as long as I was with child, he would not treat me. It was a horrible and disturbing office visit. I walked away and never looked back!
Yes, it is true – my pregnancy was a very difficult time. It was about as far from the happy, glowing experience I hoped it would be as possible. I soon learned I was carrying twins. I was still sick and my babies had a condition that could have become life threatening to them at any moment. There were other complications along the way, like gestational diabetes and a few bouts of extremely pre-term labor.
Despite these problems, I felt very blessed to be in very good hands the entire time. I was working as a Labor and Delivery nurse back then. The night that I sat staring in disbelief at my positive test, I was so lucky to be able to call the unit right away. From that moment up until my 3:30am crash C-Section six months later, I always had wise, supportive, and loving care.
Because I was on bed rest, I did not get out much. My weekly, then bi-weekly, then every other day appointments, ultrasounds, and non-stress tests were how I marked my time. I had stacks of little black and white images of my babies and I had little to do except tape them into my journal, write about them, and pray for all of us and dream about the day I would hold them in my arms.
Without getting too technical or using big medical words, I will try to explain a little bit of what was going on. Because the boys are identical twins, they shared a placenta and some of the connecting vessels weren’t distributing their blood properly. This meant Boy Two was doing extra work to keep both of their hearts beating. Because of this, he also had a decreased blood volume, slower growth, less urine output, and in turn, less amniotic fluid. This caused trouble for Boy One as well. He was getting a little bit of extra blood in his circulatory system which, if it got to be too much, could have lead to heart failure. This can also cause a baby to have more urine output and extra amniotic fluid.
Because of amazing technology, we were able to watch their growth very closely and even measure their blood pressures, so these tests were done frequently. The day before I delivered, my doctor noticed that Boy Two’s umbilical blood pressure had decreased and Boy One had a few irregular moments on the tracing of his heart beat. He watched them a little while longer and things stabilized.
It was late in the afternoon, and we debated if I should stay in the hospital overnight for observation or come back first thing in the morning. The doctor felt rather strongly that I should stay, so I was wheeled over to the Labor and Delivery unit while my husband went home to get some things for me.
The afternoon turned to evening, and the night shift came in. I had always worked night shift, so I knew these nurses well. I enjoyed visiting with my friends; but, medically, the time was uneventful. My babies had the most beautiful heartbeats an L&D nurse could hope to see. I was starting to feel embarrassed that I was there. I drifted off into a contented sleep knowing I was in good hands.
At about 3am, everything changed. My husband had stayed with me and woke me up to tell me that my nurse had called the doctor and that he was on his way in. I was pretty fuzzy and didn’t really process what he was saying until I saw my physician standing at my bedside. That certainly got my attention and snapped me awake!
As he explained that Boy One was showing signs of distress, I was signing consent for a C-Section that was going to be done as soon as the day shift arrived. In preparation, the doctor had to draw some amniotic fluid that the lab would test to determine the boys’ lung maturity. As he drew the fluid out, we all stared in disbelief when we saw dark red fluid filling the tube instead of the clear substance we were anticipating. That was blood, and it indicated that my placenta had ruptured. We had to get to the Operating Room immediately!
Within minutes I was rushed back, given spinal anesthesia, draped, and prepped. I looked around the room and every face was one I knew; and, although I knew how serious the situation was, I felt at peace. I was able to get a glimpse of both boys before they were passed off to the neonatal intensive care teams, and I was given reassurance as they were whisked out and into the NICU.
They were small, they were fragile, and even when I took them home they needed portable monitors that made sure their hearts were beating and that they were breathing. But they grew, and they became healthy.
Today they are big, strong, smart, and funny. I cannot imagine my life without them. Thank God I have always been pro-life. Thank God I decided to leave our fate up to Him. Thank God I had the sense to walk out of that doctor’s office and never look back.
I know I might not have been so lucky, and I realize that other women are not, but what if I had not even tried?
