This Can't be Real...

Written by Rachel

To read the beginning of my story, click here.

First off, can I just say how amazed I am that anyone outside my immediate family even read my first post!  I'm shocked and flattered, so thank you whoever read it!  I didn't even have to bribe people :)  But as I've re-read what I posted and as I've been thinking about my experiences and the messages I hope to convey by sharing my story, I really hope people don't read my posts and think I'm looking for sympathy or attention.  For those who know me, that's the last thing I want, and it kind of embarrasses me if people do think that.  I also don't want to seem ungrateful.  I really am a lucky girl.  I hope you keep reading what I write because once I get through what I feel are the necessary details in order to know my background for this blog, I will share more of my perspective, not just all the depressing details :)

So...back to my story for now...

Before I lost my twins, I really had no idea what women went through who had lost a baby during their pregnancy.  I'd always heard of people who had miscarriages or stillborn babies (my own mom had both), and I definitely felt sorry for them, but what happened behind the scenes never really crossed my mind.  I would see them going about their days after the fact and think that they were 'ok' after a while.  Going through it myself has really increased my empathy for women who lose a child.  It was a major eye opener for me.  Major.

As we sat in the doctor's office after being told neither of our babies had a heart beat anymore, I felt like a giant boulder was sitting on my chest.  I couldn't breathe.  Tears filled our eyes as I asked the doctor questions, and my voice weakened as I asked if they were boys or girls.  He said they were both little boys.  Identical twin boys.  The tears fell from our cheeks.  I couldn't believe that just a month ago we were experiencing a double high of learning we were having twins, and even five minutes ago we were laughing about what color of blankets to make the babies.  And now it was a double low.  Our anticipation and excitement was replaced by grief and despair.  The blow was enormous.

My doctor then explained our options at that point.  We could choose to have a d & c, which was a surgical removal of the babies, a quicker and less involved process, but the babies would probably not come out intact.  Our other option was to have a normal delivery, where labor would be induced and I would have a 'normal' delivery.  How was I having to make this decision right now?  I came to my appointment hoping to see each of my babies' tiny little fingers, toes, and healthy heartbeats, hoping to have happy little babies to hold in my arms in a few short months, and now I was deciding how to remove their lifeless bodies from my body.  It was an unreal moment.  I knew what I wanted to do, but the doctor told us to go home and think about it and call him back later that night.  He gave us a few moments alone in the ultrasound room and told us we could sneak out the back door when we were done so we wouldn't have to walk through the waiting room past all the other expectant moms eagerly awaiting their turn to see their babies.  The ultrasound tech came back in the room at our request so she could make one last ultrasound DVD for us of our babies.  I wanted to remember every little thing about my sweet boys.  I wanted to see their two little bodies cuddled up next to each other.  I wanted to see their little hands and feet, their little spines, everything.  They looked perfect.  Once she finished and left the room, I don't even remember what my husband and I said to each other as we sat in the darkened room by ourselves.  I think we were both still in shock.

Baby A

Baby B

We finally headed down to the car, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.  I called my mom as we drove away, and as she asked how my appointment went, I choked out "We had an ultrasound and neither of the babies had a heartbeat."  Then I just took a deep breath.  I could tell her heart broke over the phone.  Next, I called my mother-in-law.  She was watching our little girl and I wanted to tell her before we got there because I didn't know how to say it in person.  My voice cracked as I told her the news.  The rest of the drive home was somber.  I stared at the road, stunned.  When we got to the house to pick up our girl, she was playing happily in the living room.  I didn't want her to see me sad, so I tried to put on a smiling face and attempted a cheerful greeting.  I had never had to pretend like that for her before, and man, it was hard.  My voice was shaky and I'm sure my smile wavered.  My parents invited us and my mother- and father-in-law to come over for dinner and so my dad could give me a blessing.  After my dad gave me the blessing and my husband's dad gave him one, and after many tears were shed, I finally called my doctor back.

Before I even asked him what he would tell his own daughter to do, he said "If you were my daughter, I would tell you to have the induced labor and deliver the babies."  That confirmed my decision.  I knew I wanted to be able to hold my precious little boys before I had to say goodbye to them, even if it meant going through a potentially long and emotionally (and physically) draining process of labor and delivery.  I knew I needed that experience.  I also couldn't handle the thought of the alternative (even though I understand in emergencies, sometimes that's the only option).  So we scheduled to go in to the hospital first thing the next morning.

That night, Brianna kindly came over to give us some advice since she'd previously had similar experiences.  Heading into the unknown was terrifying, so knowing that someone we knew could tell us a little of what we might expect helped dilute a small portion of our apprehension.  As I laid in bed, I was filled with longing that I could keep the peaceful 'sleeping' boys in my stomach forever or that I would wake up and it would all have been a bad dream.  I prayed that somehow the doctor had made a mistake and that my babies hearts would beat again. When we woke up the next morning after an anxiety-filled night, the reality started to set in (though I still felt in denial) and we reluctantly headed to the hospital.

We were headed for a day of decisions that I never dreamed I would be making at this time in my life.  We were headed for one of the scariest, most emotional, most sacred days of my life.