Welcome to the NICU

I spent the first 60 minutes of being a father feeling guilty.  I felt guilty because I was willingly walking away from my wife who was still on the operating table. But mostly because I was self aware enough to realize I had a split second reaction back in the OR that I wasn't sure how to process. You see for the last 5 months or so we we're pretty sure Baby A was going to be a beautiful girl.  Baby B on the other hand was the big one, who liked to kick hard. Baby B was definitely a boy, and a tough boy at that. I was SURE we were going to have one of each. It's beyond me how I had completely convinced myself that there was a 99% certainty of something that was essentially a coin flip, but I had.  When Lena was pulled out and was a girl, it wasn't a surprise. I was waiting for them to pull out my boy! When the doctor held Lyndy over the drape I felt something I wasn't expecting. I'm not sure if it was surprise, or disappointment, or what, but in that split second it wasn't pure joy. Hence my 60 minutes of intense guilt.

We walked into the NICU. The doctors and nurses got the girls hooked up to all their monitors and equipment. They were weighed and measured. The medical team left, the grandparents came in,  photos were taken. Then all of sudden everyone was gone. Their nurse dimmed the lights. After days  of chaos, the world around me felt strangely comfortable. The nurse and I talked for a few minutes.  I told her I was an engineer at heart, and she explained every piece of equipment in the room. I probably cracked some bad jokes, she probably laughed anyway. We stopped talking, the only noise was the sound of air bubbling through water on the girls air masks. And then the nurse walked out of the room.  She told me she'd be right outside if my daughters or I needed anything. I sat down on the couch.

..."My daughters" I said out loud, that was the first time I'd heard anyone say that. It sounded good. I looked to the left and the right where each girl was laying in their incubators. I smiled.

I thought maybe what I felt back in the OR wasn't disappointment that I had two daughters, maybe it was disappointment that I was wrong. I had tried to predict something unpredictable and then was surprised when it didn't turn out the way I expected.  For someone who preaches that planning is invaluable, but plans are useless... I'd fallen right into that trap. Deep down did I really want a daughter and a son, or was this all just about being right?

I got up from the couch and walked over to Lyndy's incubator and opened the portals. I reached in and touched her hand. She grabbed onto my finger and squeezed like a vice. It had never occurred to me that someone so small would have that much strength. And just like that, I realized I was glad that I had been wrong back in the OR. I wanted exactly what was in front of me all along, I just didn't know it. She opened her eyes a little and squeezed my finger even harder. They were both tough and beautiful... I'd gotten what I wished for after all.

It Wasn't Exactly a Smooth Landing (Part 3)

You know that scene at the end of Apollo 13 where the crew is about to reach earth. They weren't sure if their craft was intact enough to survive reentry, but they didn't have any other options. Tom Hanks looked all cool and collected, but inside you knew his character wasn't sure if he going to be opening the hatch to a cool ocean breeze, or if he'd be in pieces hurtling towards the Pacific.That's what this was starting to feel like. Everyone in the room was a combination of exited, terrified, and over tired. My wife was crying, her mom was crying, I was was crying when nobody was looking. And on top of everything, the babies decided that they were going to start causing contractions for my wife.  Considering she was going to have a C-Section regardless this was just the icing on the pain cake.

T-2 hours- I decided I didn't want my children's first image of me to look like a hobo... a shower was in order. After that my wife and I spent some time listening to music and getting mentally prepared for what was going to transpire that evening.

T-1 hour- We got a visit from the anesthesiologist and a host of other people to discuss the procedure. This was really about to happen. The nurses came in with my outfit I'd have to wear in the operating room.  It was a pair of white coveralls, blue booties, and a hair net big enough that Bob Ross could have worn it loosely. The nurses came in to prep my wife for surgery. The nurse told me what to expect, that I would put my suit on and they would come and get me.  I'd walk into the operating room and sit down on a stool next to my wife, who would be awake during the whole procedure.  There would be a blue drape separating us from the cutting, bleeding, and birthing.  The nurse told me, "Just don't look over the drape".  I asked if I wasn't allowed to look, or if this was just advice.  She said, "It's advice, but just don't look. You'll get sick, or pass out, or something bad, just don't do it". She hadn't even turned around to leave and I'd already decided there was no way I wasn't looking. 

It all went so fast from there.  Next thing I knew my wife was walking down the hallway to the operating room and I was left to wait.  15 minutes later I was walking down the hall to meet her.  I followed the nurse in through the double doors. It was bright. The room was filled with the sounds of a dozen or more people talking and equipment beeping.  My wife was on the table surrounded by blue sheets, smiling.  I wasn't expecting someone to actually look happy in that position, but there she was. I almost cried again.

I sat down on the stool and grabbed her hand. The doctor said it was time to start and she'd feel some pressure, but no pain. I asked if I could peek over the drape. The nurse from earlier stared at me. "What?" She said. "You want to look? OK, just don't faint" So I stood up and looked over the drape to see a doctor slicing my wife open with a scalpel. I sat back down and said "Honey looks like they are doing a great job!" Then I stood back up. The nurse looked at me again and said "What are you doing?" I said, "I think I'm going to watch."

Anatomically speaking, what I was seeing didn't surprise me. I'd seen dissected cadavers before at work (I work in IT, so this is actually a long story for another day) and I've field dressed a few deer. Blood and guts don't typically bother me. But this was admittedly a little strange since it was my wife. You're not typically romantically involved with the deer, and the deer is NEVER having a conversation with you as you're watching someone push the bladder to the side.  There are just some things you cannot unsee.

A few more cuts and a little bit of pulling and next thing I knew a tiny little baby was being lifted up towards me. I said the first thing that popped into my mind, "Hey there little buddy!" The doctor looked at me and said, "That's not a buddy! That's a girl!" HOLY SHIT. I was a father of a girl, Lena, I announced it. My wife smiled, or maybe cried, I really have no idea. All I knew is that little girl wasn't crying as she was carried away.  Moment's later the 2nd twin emerged. Another girl, Lyndy, this one screaming like a banshee. At this point the nurse probably had a fairly good reason to be concerned about me fainting as I processed the idea that I had twin girls.  I squeezed me wife's hand, said I loved her, and went to walk over to the areas where they were taking care of the girls

As I approached where the team was working on Lena, I saw someone grab the tool used to put in a breathing tube, my heart sank. I walked back to my wife, tearing up again, and said "I think they just had to intubate the little one".  I walked back over. This time the little girl was wailing away.  I asked what happened, and they told me they came at her with the intubation tool and she took one look at it and decided she wanted no part of that and would breathe on her own. 

They were both beautiful. I cut the cord, snapped some photos, kissed my wife goodbye as they sewed her up and left with the medical team for the NICU with the babies. I was happy, proud,  and terrified at the same time.  I wasn't entirely sure, but it felt like I was Tom Hanks opening the hatch and breathing in the warm ocean air. 

Next Post- Welcome to the NICU

It Wasn't Exactly a Smooth Landing (Part 2)

...I was wrong. It was bad.

It was Friday evening and we'd been in the hospital for a day.  I'd been gone for a few hours at work while my wife's mom stayed with her.  I walked into the hospital room.  It was cold. Very cold. So cold I was expecting the nurses to walk in wearing parkas. "Hey Hunny", I said, "You must be freezing!"  To which I was promptly corrected. She was HOT! Apparently one of the wonderful side effects of the magnesium.  I realized I'd be wearing a jacket indoors for the foreseeable future.  And so began the hourly countdown to 2:00 PM on Saturday when she would be off the magnesium.

I had spent the rest of the evening hanging out in the hospital room and helping to make my wife as comfortable as possible. When it was time for bed I unfolded the sleeper couch and settled in for the night. I woke up around dawn the next morning, well rested. It had been the first time in weeks that I had slept through the night. I had grown used to getting woken up by my wife's hourly trips to the bathroom and groaning from braxton hicks contractions. I assumed because I had slept well, it must have been a quiet night all around. I walked over to her bed and said "Morning! I haven't slept that well in weeks! You had a good night too?!" Nope. She had a terrible night. Up to use the bathroom multiple times, contractions, blood draws, fetal monitor adjustments, 2 nurses in the room with all the lights on trying to put in a new IV.  I had clearly missed quite a bit of excitement.

By 2:00 PM Saturday they had stopped the magnesium as planned. I don't think I've seen my wife so happy in a while.  Within a few hours it was out of her system and she was feeling better. This feeling good period would last until Sunday afternoon.  She looked good all things considering.  Good enough that we asked if we could go for a walk in the garden outside.  The nurse said she would check. She was back in the room shortly and said, "Nope, you can't leave, in fact, you aren't allowed to eat or drink anymore, and we'll be running lab tests every 6 hours." Last time I ask to do something...

Apparently the last round of labs was trending towards that scary HELLP syndrome I mentioned earlier.  The good news was it was starting to look like we wouldn't be held captive in the hospital for weeks, the bad news was that the twins we're still a bit a under-cooked.  Things were starting to get stressful.

The next 24 hours were lived in 6 hour increments.  Every time the lab results were about to come back we were preparing ourselves to get whisked back to the OR for a C-Section, 3 of these rounds went by without commotion. By Monday afternoon we finally got the word, my wife had been scheduled for a C-Section at 6:00 PM.  It was time to get the kiddos out before anyone got any sicker. It was almost a relief to have a plan, even if it wasn't the ideal one. 5 hours to go...

To be continued...

It Wasn't Exactly a Smooth Landing (Part 1)

If you ever walk into the hospital to meet your 31 week pregnant wife in Labor and Delivery triage, the last thing you want to hear from a nurse is "Well, looks like you're going to be admitted".  Within a few hours "admitted" meant my wife was diagnosed with preeclampsia  and would be kept in the hospital until June 24th or she gave birth, whichever came first.  If she made it to the 24th, her prize would be having two small humans ripped from her loins.  Turns out preeclampsia is no joke.  What came next was even less funny.

So for those of you who aren't familiar with preeclampsia, you really should Google it. In fact if you want to convince your teenage daughter to do everything in her power to not get pregnant, i'd even recommend reading her the WebMD article as a bedtime story.  If she still seems interested in that untrustworthy boyfriend of hers, go ahead and read the article on HELLP syndrome.  I guarantee she won't have unprotected sex until she's at least 34 years old.

Froedtert Birth Center would be home for the next 3 weeks if all went well.  My wife was greeted by some awesome nurses armed with needles.  Blood draw, Check. Shot of steroids in the ass, Check.  IV bag full of magnesium, Check.

Magnesium, you ask? Yep, this is apparently the first line of defense to prevent seizures when you have preeclampsia.  I'm told it works really well.  I'm also told it is awful. Like, something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy awful. Who told me this? My wife. You see she used to be a Labor and Delivery nurse and had administered this highly effective hellbroth many times in the past. This was clearly going to be a penance of sorts.

Within a few minutes, Awesome Nurse #1  had hooked up the IV bag of Mag (that's the cool hospital lingo for Magnesium).  She said "don't worry, we recently lowered the initial loading dose, it probably won't be as bad as you remember"... and it turns out it wasn't.  My wife went through that first hour like a champ, she looked good, the babies looked good.  Life was good.  Only 47 more hours of Mag to go! Maybe this wouldn't be so bad?

To be continued...

Getting off the ground was the easy part

If my wife's pregnancy had been a flight, we would have had mechanical issues, hit turbulence, there may have been flames... but we made it, early in fact.

When we found out my wife was pregnant she was overjoyed (I acted like I was, but was actually terrified).  Then we found out we were having twins and were both overjoyed (but actually REALLY terrified!) The good news was my wife was feeling good. This lasted for 48 hours.  The the morning sickness hit, except it was more like 'all day' sickness.  The people who coin these terms tend to be a tad optimistic as it turns out. So for the entire first trimester the new normal involved hair holding and tears. But hey, the good news is the sickness went away at the end of the first trimester, just like everyone said it would.  Nothing but clear skies from here right?!

Wrong, as it turns out.  There was a week. But it was a damn good week.  We happened to be in San Diego on vacation at the time, and we couldn't have timed it better. We both ate awesome food and Dad drank some really awesome local beers.  Mom tasted the local waters at every brewery, but kept telling me that they all tasted pretty similar.  Obviously the pregnancy had dulled her normally refined palate and kept her from enjoying the intricacies of the H20.  Ahh times were good.

Almost overnight she went from having a baby bump to looking like she was smuggling a watermelon. It was cute until things started to hurt. Turns out getting your insides re-positioned by two tiny humans isn't the most fun.  Soon we got to make our first of several unplanned runs to the labor and delivery unit.  First one was for high blood pressure, but hey it resolved it self, "You're fine! Go home enjoy your pregnancy!"

A few weeks later we were on our way back. In the middle of the night no less.  This time it was contractions, and not just the usual 'practice ones', these seemed like the real deal... But they weren't. "You're fine! Go home enjoy your pregnancy!"

We ended up stopping at McDonalds on the way home, it was after bar close.  I'm pretty sure it was a bunch of drunks, a tired Dad and a hungry pregnant lady.  At least she got a bacon egg and cheese biscuit for her troubles.  We ended up making this late night run to labor and delivery one more time in the middle of the night, same result..."You're fine! Go home enjoy your pregnancy!"

 I spent the next month getting really good at putting compression stockings on incredibly swollen legs. This is actually much less fun than it sounds like.  We ended up making it till May 28th, just shy of 32 weeks pregnant.  This had been a slow build, but finally the doctor took one look at my Wife and said "Whoa, so you're blood pressure is really high, and you look like you got stung by a couple of dozen bees. Go straight to the hospital, don't pass go"

It Wasnt Exactly a Smooth Landing- Part 1