One year ago today, I was lying in bed pregnant as can be, and was woken by an unnerving sensation that I was leaking fluids. It was one in the morning, and I was 28 weeks pregnant with the twins. I went to the bathroom to confirm my suspicions, then called my midwife who I'd only met twice before. Her calm advice to wait until morning didn't sit well with me - I'd read way too much about twin pregnancy and my experience with perusing dual care with both a homebirth midwife and the department of maternal and fetal medicine at the hospital had brought with it enough sense of caution to heed a late-night warning. With much hesitation and feelings of guilt about waking a friend from precious sleep, I climbed the stairs and called out to Korin. We drove to the hospital, exchanging reassuring thoughts - it was nothing, they'd check me out and I'd be home in a few hours.
Sadly, that wasn't to be. My most terrible, vivid memory from that long night came about an hour after arriving at the hospital - I had just been examined and was still lying on the awful gyn-ey (get it? gurney for ladies? why must we endure dumb humor on top of an already uncomffortable situation??). The doctor was wondering if my water had broken, and was about to do a swab to confirm. And suddenly, horrifyingly, Baby A's bag of waters unmistakenly broke.
Amniotic fluid rushed from me, and with every breath, every sob, continued to flow. I remember lying there, crying uncontrolably, saying to Korin that I felt as if my babies' lives were pouring out of me. The resident who was with us when this happened told me that I would likely deliver the twins within 24 hours. It was truly one of the most grief-filled moments of my life. Twenty-eight weeks, zero days. I knew the risks of delivering that early.
Of course, we all know how this story ends. I hope you don't mind as I recall these things here for myself. I haven't given a lot of deliberate attention to the stressful birth of Shoghi and Maxwell, either within myself or here on the blog. I find, though, that now that these hot days of summer are passing by, I am keenly aware of what was going on a year ago. My gratitude for how things turned out is beyond measure. At the moment, though, it felt very precarious, fragile, and uncertain... Since I have never told their birth story, I figure this is a good place as any to start.
(photo by Amy Crawford)