Are You Too Good For Your Home?

So let me preface this post with the fact that this will probably not be funny, and there are no fun pictures here. It is also a little long. Let me also start by saying everything is OK.

It’s crazy how you can wake up one day and it seem so normal. Wednesday was one of those days. Woke up early to have a phone call with my peer coach in Philly at 7:30a, then another call with my special project group, run by the Alum Rock district offices to pick something up, talk to my Regional Director about my frustration with our data systems, talk about recruiting, hold an interview with a candidate, and then take off for Missy and I’s centering appointment. All in all, it was a good day, filled with productive conversations and getting things done.

Missy and I really enjoy our centering class at Kaiser, it’s informative and the other people are pretty cool and sociable. After that, we headed over to San Pedro square to have dinner with a few friends we don’t get to see often. Finally around 9, I could see Missy was getting tired, and she had said she wasn’t feeling well, so we made a quick exit to head for home.

When we got home, I was going to put the finishing touches on my latest blog post (which as you can see, never went up) and then head to bed. Missy had said her stomach was achy, but she couldn’t tell if it was gas or something else. So, I suggested she kick back a glass of water and lay down to check for contractions (this is nightly homework she had to start doing at 24 weeks every night anyway). After a few minutes, nothing, but she did have to pee for like the 50th time that day, so she did.

I’ll save the details, but she called me over to check something out, and it wasn’t normal. Luckily, since twins are considered high risk, she can call her nurse 24/7 and ask them anything she needs. So, she called them up and explained that her stomach had been achy and what had happened a few minutes early. The nurse seemed calm, but we could tell she was also sensing something was wrong.

She put us on hold. It was like 30 seconds, but it seemed like forever given the tone of her voice prior.

Nurse: So, I think you should go to labor and delivery right now. I called them, they know you are coming.

Missy: Are you sure I’m not just being paranoid?

Nurse: Uh, better safe than sorry, please go now, they are expecting you.

At this point, Missy is a little jarred, but I am one who likes to assess the situation before we freak out, so I didn’t think much of it.

So, we grab the basics…purse, jacket, wallet, key, both cell phones, although Missy’s was almost dead, but we were only going to be there a couple hours and then be home so it didn’t matter.

We load into the Expedition and we take off.

When we get there, it was a damn maze…how the hell does anyone find labor and delivery at Kaiser Santa Clara without a secret treasure map? After wandering around for a minute we find two white doors. There is no one attending the doors, but they look official and like we shouldn’t go in. A nurse comes out and we ask where the desk is and she shows us. Turns out the non-descript white doors are actually for you to go through because the desk it behind them.

We get checked in and they take us to the observation room. It’s a TINY room with one seriously uncomfortable chair, a bed and some ultrasound equipment. When we get in there, they hook Missy up to heart rate monitors for the girls and a contraction monitor for Missy.

At this point, still not overly concerned.

After about an hour of her being hooked up, the doctor comes back in.

Missy was having a contraction every three minutes. On top of this, her cervix had gone from 3.4cm to 1.8cm in only two weeks time. Not only this, but Missy is now starting to have painful contractions every few minutes.

Now, what is really happening starts to settle in. Missy and I went through so much trying to get here, when she hit 24 weeks, there was a bit of relief because the babies actually have a 50/50 shot at survival. She made it so far and the doctors had been telling her that she was doing really great and that things were progressing so much better than other twin pregnancies they typically see. With all this, I had started to settle into the fact that everything will be OK. Now, at only 25 weeks, here we are with a drastically shorter cervix, 20 contractions an hour (far above the acceptable 6 an hour) and the very real possibility that our girls might be born 11 weeks premature. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling that sets in. The best way I’ve been able to describe it to myself is that it was incredibly similar to the moment I walked into the ER and my step-mom told me that dad had a heart attack and didn’t make it. It’s a feeling of uncertainty, one that says life will never be the same if this happens. It’s an indescribably loss of control.

I can’t outwardly show that I’m scared though. Missy is being poked and prodded by the biggest needles I’ve ever seen in my life. There are beeps going off every few seconds. It’s cold in the room and things are uncertain; she needs me to be the strong one right now.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m sure it’s going to be fine. They deal with this every day and the doc seems hopeful that we can turn this around.”

Do I even believe my own words though? I’m uncertain and feeling my stomach knot up.

They put Missy on an IV to hydrate her.

Right after this, the doctor came into to explain that as confident as they are that they can get things under control, they want to take every precaution and that they are going to give her a steroid that will help boost the development of the lungs and brains of the babies to give them a leg-up if they were to be born in the next few days.

Missy was a champ. The needle for that steroid was like a mini steak knife. I had to try real hard not to get wide eyed and tip her off when I saw it. I failed though, she saw my expression.

About 2am (we got there at 11), they told Missy that they need to continue to monitor her because it takes the medicine that is supposed to stop the contractions a while to kick in if it’s going to work and that they are going to admit her. They needed to keep her until Friday.

Honestly at that point, I was drained, I was 2 hours away from being up for 24 hours straight, the night was an emotional roller coaster, and really my memory of that night honestly stops there. I remember bits and pieces, Missy being rolled into the room. Me pulling out the extra bed, then sleep.

The next two days gradually got better. Contractions began to slow and by Friday were non-existent. The whole stay is really blurry. We didn’t get more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. Doctors where in and out, IV bags needed changing every six hours, machines would blare with beeps, getting up in the middle of the night to hold Missy’s hand while they gave her more shots with massive needles. I joked with the staff that we were on a Club Kaiser Vacation, but it certainly was no vacation.

All in all, things started to go back into place. Cervix at 2.4cm…still not where the doc wants it, but better. No contractions. Friday was discharge day, but it didn’t come without expectations.

Missy is officially off work until the girls come. Also, on quasi bed rest which means not cleaning, no house work, no cooking, nothing. Couch, bed, and a few laps around the house to prevent blood clots. It’s going to be a long 3 months for her! I’m sure she will need visitors. I’m also thinking about renting a wheel chair so we can get her out of the house from time to time and roll her around the mall or target just to get out of the house!

In the end, we’re happy that the doctors were able to patch things up! Hopefully, with Missy stuck at home and trying a million new crafts, I will have some more anecdotal stories for y’all!

To end this on a good note, there was one interaction that Missy couldn’t stop laughing at:

A nurse comes in to the room right before we leave.

Nurse: Hey, I’m Heaven, I’m giving your nurse a quick break. Anything I can get you?

Missy: Can I get some water and a snack?

Nurse: Sure!

The nurses phone rings: This is Heaven, how can I help you?

She carries on a brief conversation and then hangs up.

Hans: Girl, it’s a good thing you work in maternity and not hospice with a phone greeting like that!

More stories to come y’all!