On This Day

On this day a year ago...

...I was exactly 26 weeks pregnant.

...I had been on complete bed rest for 6 weeks. And when I say complete, I really do mean complete--up only to go to the bathroom and shower for ten minutes every other day.

...I had stayed up late, unable to sleep. The babies were playing soccer, or whatever it was they did in there, every time I tried to close my eyes.

...I woke up at 9:00 am with the urge to go to the bathroom.

...I didn't make it the ten steps to the bathroom before my sweats were wet.

...I called Isaac at work, crying, because I knew something was wrong, and it was much too early for something like this to happen.

...I called my doctor to say that I had either lost control of my bladder or my water had broken. He told me to head to labor and delivery right then.

...I waited for Isaac to come home from work so we could make the scary ride to the hospital. I told myself over and over that it was too early, it was too early.

...I walked to the labor delivery ward, leaking the entire way. We weren't ever really sure where to go. We hadn't had the hospital tour yet.

...I listened to the OB and the perinatologist disagree about whether my membranes had ruptured. The OB thought yes; the perinatologist, who was mister doom and gloom for most of my pregnancy, thought no.

...I saw my two sweet little men on the ultrasound monitor, acting as if nothing was amiss.

...I had the test that did show traces of amniotic fluid.

...I learned that Jason's sac (baby A) had ruptured, probably up high, which meant a slow consistent leak.

...I had our first scary discussion with the neonatologists about what birth at 26 weeks would mean to my babies. It didn't look good for the boys.

...I was told that girls are often stronger than boys when it comes to premature births.

...I was told that each day I was able to stay pregnant would increase their chance of survival 5%.

...I was told that most people who had their membranes rupture prematurely usually delivered within a week.

...I had the first of the two steroid shots given to help the babies' lungs mature; we prayed that they would wait for at least the 24 hours needed for the steroids to have an effect before they were born.

...I had my first shot of terbutaline to stop the contractions that I didn't feel but were, according to the monitors, two minutes apart.

...I felt the side effects of that drug for the first time. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it would not be the last.

...I started what would end up being a month of mega doses of antibiotics to try and ward off infection and keep the babies as healthy as possible. (We managed to get sick, and two of us nearly died, anyway.)

...I spent my first night ever in a hospital attached to two monitors for the babies, a third monitor for contractions, a blood pressure cuff, an IV for fluids and antibiotics, and a heart rate monitor for me.

...I was the most frightened I had ever been in my life up to that point.

...we began the countdown to the boys' birth.

In 17 days the boys turn 1. Amazing.