There I was, waiting, waiting for these babies to arrive. Lying on the futon became my specialty! My legs were sore, my pubic symphysis was protesting, and I felt like I just could not eat any more food!
The ultrasounds all indicated that the babies' growth and fluid levels were good, and that keeping them in a bit longer was the course of action. Baby A was frank breech -- the bum was wedged in my pelvis. The OB, who to this day is one of my favorite people, told me we'd check each time by ultrasound to see if the baby had miraculously turned. If Baby A had been head down, and Baby B wasn't, he said he'd let me try to deliver vaginally, and then reach in and turn the second baby. With Baby A breech, he said that vaginal delivery wasn't the safest option. I trusted this man, implicitly. Therefore, a C-section was scheduled for the start of my 38th week. I could not believe I had made it that far, but I was ready to see the kids!
I tried to schedule the operation for January 30, 2002, the day of Tim's grandma's birthday, who was still alive at the time. Phyllis is one of Tim's favorite people, so sharing a birthday with their great-grandma would have been wonderful. In the end, we couldn't have that date, so unless I went into labor myself, these babies would be arriving on January 31, 2002. The operation was scheduled for 8 am, and I was a nervous wreck :)
We had a short list of names prepared. We did not know what the genders of the babies were. For girls, we had selected (obvious now of course) Zoe Annabelle and Talia Clarice. For boys, I believe we had Aiden Francis and Nicholas Anthony. Truth be told, I wasn't crazy about Nicholas Anthony, but at the time, we could not think of another alternative. In retrospect, I am glad we didn't have boys. While I still love the name Aiden, it is everywhere!
***
January 31 started out icy and cold. We lived 5 minutes from the hospital, which was good: driving was treacherous. We headed into the hospital when it was still dark, but I crossed my fingers that the sun would shine later, once I could actually see it. I don't remember too much from this part of the day, but I know that I got changed into a gown, had several residents ask me the same questions, over and over, and saw Tim in his "spacesuit" just waiting to have those babies in his arms.
All of a sudden, a friend of mine entered the room, in scrubs. He happened to be the medical student working on my case. He asked if that was going to be okay, since I knew him. Would I feel comfortable with it, he wondered. I thought about it: I could say no, and there would be no medical student assigned, just my OB and some residents. Who wants a medical student working on them? But he was a good student, one that wanted to become an OB/Gyn, and one I trusted. Considering all the poking and prodding that had gone on up until this time, I really didn't care that a guy I once played volleyball with would be helping extract babies and seeing my nether regions!
The clock ticked. I waited to be wheeled to the operating room, and despite all I read knew, I wasn't sure what to expect. I asked the resident to perform one last ultrasound, just in case. There was no new news there, so they told me to kiss Tim, and I'd see him in the other room. The bed moved. The hallway was smooth and cold, and I started to really get impatient. I was scared and excited all at the same time, but my nervousness was ready to overwhelm me at any moment. The operating room was smaller than I expected, but steely and sterile (as it should be, really). Seeing the lights, the monitors, and the people just about made me vomit. It was difficult for me to stop shaking.
The anesthesiologist came in at that point to give me the epidural. I did as I was told, and hoped for the best. As time went by, the personnel got everything prepared and waited for the anesthesia to take effect. The doctors had me rest flat on my back, and proceeded to poke me with something. The girls have heard this story before, but here it goes:
Doctor: Do you feel pressure, or sharp? (You should only feel pressure if the epidural is working.)
Me: Sharp.
Doctor: How about here? Pressure or sharp?
Me: Sharp.
Doctor: Here?
Me: Sharp.
Doctor: And here? Pressure or sharp?
Me: Sharp.
Doctor: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
At that point, I felt defeated. I knew what was in store. The doctors whispered and went into action. My hands were stretched out and strapped to the bed, and my hair was pulled away from my face. They told me the epidural hadn't worked, and that I'd need to have general anesthesia. The mask went over my face, and a tear rolled down my cheek as I prayed to God that I would wake up and see my babies.
To be continued...
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