One Year Ago

This past September, I submitted an entry to a contest for Real Simple magazine asking readers to answer "What was the most important day of your life?" I wrote about a day exactly one year ago, on January 16th, 2008, when I went into preterm labor and we almost lost our babies. I did not win the contest (which is okay because I did this more for myself than for the contest), but it was very helpful to put the details and feelings down in writing. Below is my entry about a day we will never ever forget.

When Life Whispered

I have heard many parents describe the birth of a child as one of the most important days of their lives. The most important day of my life was the day our twin babies were not born.

For as long as I can remember I have always wanted to get married and have kids. I set specific goals as I got older and decided I wanted four kids, all two years apart in age. I grew up the middle of three girls and had a bit of so-called “middle child syndrome.” Eager to avoid this odd number, I figured four kids would be an easy solution. I was thrilled to have found “the one” at the young age of 20, and after dating four years, I married my first and only love. As soon as I met Andy, I knew he was perfect for me. He was smart, handsome, fun and a great listener. Plus, he was a family man and also wanted four kids. Everything seemed to be falling into place for my “plan.” Now don’t get me wrong, I was no stranger to life’s unexpected turns. Having lost my mother to breast cancer at the age of 19, I was well aware that things don’t always go as planned.

After a year of marriage, in September 2007, we discovered we were pregnant. This news came with all of the expected feelings associated with having your first child – excitement, nervousness, and curiosity as to how much things were going to change. Little did we know that we were in for the ride of our lives.

We had our first ultrasound at seven weeks along in the pregnancy. Anxious to hear that everything was okay, we waited for the technician to show us the heartbeat. “Well, I have news,” she said. “There are two.” Twins? “Shocked” doesn’t come close to describing how we felt! After the initial surprise wore off, we were thrilled to be having twins. But wait, we thought, two babies at once didn’t exactly fit into our plan. As it turns out, this was the first of several detours in the road we thought we were traveling.

Fast forward four months to a chilly Wednesday in January. Five months pregnant with two boys, I was in awe of these lives growing in my belly. Besides several weeks of morning sickness, everything was going well. But the day before this fateful Wednesday, I had noticed a slight change in my body. I was ready to dismiss it as no big deal, but eventually convinced myself to call the doctor. He told me it could be normal but we better check it out to be safe. Apparently not too worried, my doctor scheduled my appointment for two days later. I went to work on Wednesday like any other day. I hadn’t noticed anything new, but something just didn’t feel “right.” Like many first-time expectant mothers, I was hesitant to be the “girl who cried wolf.” I didn’t want to sound like a complainer, so I often thought twice before calling my doctor. On this particular morning, I knew something wasn’t right but could not explain why. Sure, I had a “what could be normal” symptom the day before, but nothing new was happening today. Why should I see the doctor a day earlier than my appointment? After debating with myself, I finally gave in to my intuition and asked my doctor for an appointment that morning. Of all the decisions I have made in my life, this could very well be the most important.

My doctor was in surgery all day, so I saw one of his partners instead. After a short examination, she looked me in the eyes and quietly said, “You are in pre-term labor and are three centimeters dilated. You need to get dressed very carefully and the nurse will take you by wheelchair to Labor and Delivery.” I immediately began sobbing. I was barely 23 weeks pregnant and knew it was too early for the arrival of our babies. How could I be in labor in January? Our due date wasn’t until May.

Once in Labor and Delivery, I was immediately given medicine to stop my labor. My eyes were glued to the small screen that showed I was contracting every six to seven minutes- none of which I ever felt- not one single contraction. I was 23 weeks and three days along in my pregnancy, and unaware that I was in labor. What if I had waited until Thursday to see the doctor? Considering the rate at which I was contracting and dilating, every minute made a difference.

For the remainder of the day, I was hooked up to monitors to determine whether the medicine had stopped my labor. Several doctors spoke with me and my husband about the severity of our situation. If our babies were delivered that day and somehow beat the less-than-hopeful odds of survival, their severe prematurity would probably mean a lifetime of physical and mental disabilities. The doctors strongly recommended that we should not resuscitate our sons if they were born that day. Here we were, four months before our sons were supposed to be born, and we were faced with the chance of losing them both.

I did not sleep a wink that night as I watched the screen and prayed that my contractions had stopped. During the dark, quiet hours that were interrupted only by an occasional nurse, I relied heavily on faith and hope. My intuition had gotten me this far but the rest was out of our control. Even if I did make it through the night without delivering the boys, we had several days to go before the doctors would willingly resuscitate our babies, and even longer before they had a chance at a normal life. Knowing every minute in the womb was potentially life-saving, I did everything I could to keep them inside. With all of our family living out of state, my husband and I clung tightly to each other. I also turned to my mother’s words for guidance. She had always taught me the importance of positive thinking and visualization, which is exactly what I did.

I’m not sure time has ever moved more slowly for me, but sure enough, the sun eventually began to rise. We had made it through the night and the boys were still safe inside my womb.

The following days and months were some of the most difficult I could ever imagine. Thanks to the doctors, medicine, strict hospital bed rest, and countless prayers, I carried our boys 18 more days to a gestation of 26 weeks and one day. Weighing just two pounds and one pound thirteen ounces, our identical twin boys were born on February 4, 2008. They were unable to breathe on their own and were immediately admitted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). For weeks we watched our sons fight to live as they battled infections, received blood transfusions, and struggled to breathe with underdeveloped lungs. Our tiny “babies” hardly resembled typical newborns. Their transparent skin appeared red, their ribs protruded from their skinny bodies, and their tiny arms and legs were the size of our fingers. Unlike most new parents who lovingly hold their child moments after birth, we waited more than 3 weeks to hold our sons. Things eventually got easier as the boys gained weight and learned how to eat and breathe on their own. We spent each day travelling back and forth from home to the hospital. Finally, after nine and a half long weeks and over 2,700 miles in the car, we took our boys home with us.

I often think about that Wednesday in January when following my intuition helped keep our babies in my womb a little longer. Some people describe intuition as a whisper rather than a yell, and I can certainly attest to that. There may not have been a concrete medical reason to go to the doctor a day early, but something pushed me to do it. Call it what you will – fate or intuition or a mother’s sense – but listening to that quiet whisper is the reason our twin boys are with us today. Our happy and healthy boys are now 7 months old with no foreseeable long-term effects of their premature birth.

Things may not have gone as planned with our first pregnancy, but this unexpected journey has made us stronger. Who knows, we may still end up with four children. But instead of the two years we had planned, there is only a one minute age difference between our first sons. As we will undoubtedly face other detours in the future, our hearts and minds will be open to life’s quiet whispers.