Happy birthday to my babies who will be 4 years old tomorrow! We celebrated tonight with my family and Brody and Jace each got a new bike (which they didn't ask for) and a box of fruit snacks (which was all they asked for).WARNING: This post is long and probably very boring. I wanted, for myself, to record what I can remember of their birth.
The last couple of months of my pregnancy everybody kept saying that I'd go into labor at any time. I was able to tell them "I told you so" when I made it to 39 weeks. I had never gone into labor on my own, and fully expected to have my doctor start me. This is one detail I've already forgotten. I think I might have been scheduled to be started in the next couple of days (Kira??). But I actually went into labor! Of course since I had never done it before, I didn't know that's what was going on. I think because my labor contractions had always been Pitocin-induced, I was used to labor being a lot more painful. So since I wasn't doubled over in agony I just thought I had some kind of stomachache. It did have me kind of worried that something was wrong, so I called my neighbor and she watched my kids while I drove to the doctor. They took me right back and checked me and I was dilated to a 7 and ready to go! My doctor was already planning a c-section, so he told me to go check in at the hospital. I called Jeremy from the office to tell him. I was so upset because he had ridden the bus into Salt Lake that day and I knew he would never make it in time. When he answered I could barely tell him because I was trying so hard not to cry in front of everybody.
Well, although the hospital is about two feet away from my doctor's office, I could NOT make that walk, so I went to my van to drive the two feet, and what do you know... flat tire! Too bad. I got in and drove over on the flat tire (a huge thank you to my bro Giff. If memory from that drug-induced state serves correctly, I believe he was the one who took the van and had the tire all fixed and delivered back to the hospital in no time [Kira??]).
They rushed me through check-in and got me into a bed. I had barely been there 30 minutes when, looking just like an angel, Jeremy came rushing through the door. I could not believe he was already there! My relief was indescribable. After he got my call, his awesome friend Doug had wasted no time in driving him to the hospital in Layton.
These details are quite foggy by now. At some point they realized I had just developed toxemia, which I guess wasn't a huge deal since I was about to deliver anyway, but they did have to give me some medicine for it. I can't remember what medicines they gave me and what they were for, but I remember quickly becoming very drugged-up and out of it. I also remember TERRIBLE itching on my face, which was from one of the medicines. I was practically unconscious but I could NOT stop scratching my face. Kira and Dave had gone out of town for a day or so and on their way home she found out I had gone into labor. The poor thing was devastated and felt all guilty that she had been gone. Her and Dave rushed straight to the hospital to check on things and her main concern was finding out where I had taken the kids. I hadn't told Jeremy, and I was so out of it I literally couldn't speak. I could hear them discussing where the kids could be, but I just couldn't tell them. After I don't know how long and every ounce of strength I had, I whispered, "Emily." They figured it out and Kira went and took over with my kids.
They wheeled me into the operating room and got me set up. Okay, I don't get the logic of making a 9 months pregnant woman lie flat on her back for that long. I've never felt closer to death. I thought my heart would explode. Has any other woman frantically tried to tell the anesthesiologist that they are dying, and been so offended when he just kindly pats her head instead of panicking and trying to save her life?
They finally got started and in no time Brody was pulled out. Four minutes later they pulled out Jace. Poor Dr. Healy was so desperate for me to look at them. He shoved them in my face for like an hour and demanded that I look, so just to get him to shut up, I glanced over. I wasn't too thrilled at the time, but they were both healthy and beautiful. They were about an inch apart in height, but they both weighed exactly the same, 6 lbs. 12 oz.!
My main memory of the next day or so was the excruciating pain up by my shoulder blades. It was awful! A nurse told me that it was because of air getting into my body during the c-section. I was also VERY depressed. I had always struggled with PPD as it was, so I was a wreck as to what it would be like with two babies. I had the doctor prescribe an anti-depressant before I even left the hospital.
So they were perfectly healthy and we got to go home after about 3 days. I was on more medicine because I had been anemic in the hospital. This medicine made me feel SO weird. My head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and every noise was like a jack-hammer in my skull, maybe similar to what a hangover feels like (Kira??). So between that and the depression, I was quite a wreck in anticipation of the first long night home with the babies. Well, my wonderful friend Gayla was over helping us get situated and get dinner, and as she was preparing to leave, I asked if she would take the babies with her for the night. I know she was shocked at how psychotic I was being, but she got their things together and very willingly took them. I knew she had to work the next afternoon, but I was still disappointed when she brought them back. But that one sleepover turned into many over the next few months. Between that, and Kira taking the older four all the time (oh my gosh, was Allie really only 7 months old all those times my four boys slept over?), and Jeremy's dad taking the twins two afternoons a week, I somehow survived that first year. It was not pretty, but it paid off a million times over. These two boys are the light of my life. I don't know what I would do without them. The best thing is that they're the youngest, so I will never have to struggle with having that last straggler, always so bored but you're so busy with all your other kids and obligations. They are best friends and don't give me the time of day when we are the only three at home and all the other kids are at school. In fact, sometimes I'll peek into their room when they're playing and if they see me they'll just stop and stare at me and say, "Mom. Get out." And won't resume playing until I'm gone.
I love you two little angels! Even though you're "big kids," you'll always be my babies!
My hero, Gayla, and the donor of half the twins' baby wardrobe, her daughter Heidi:
