Memorial Weekend Saturday

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I am not sure how I feel today. I guess I can say I feel better than I thought I would, but that probably means it'll really suck tomorrow. Or it could be that I have avoided these thoughts thus far this morning, and I'm about to be hit by a truck, make it a train.

First, this is the anniversary, 5/28, of the last post I wrote while pregnant with Lucas and Caleb. I was so happy. I was completely clueless. Although I honestly feel that deep down inside, in a place I didn't want to visit, I knew these babies were not for this world.

Today, this Saturday, is the Saturday it all began to go downhill, quickly. We woke up like normal, and spent the morning planning our holiday weekend. It was going to be low-key since I was to take it easy. I had bought a maternity belt the night before and it made a HUGE difference in how I felt. We headed to the mall around 10:00 to meet a couple who we were buying a play yard for off craigslist. We already have one, but wanted another to let the twins play in as they became more mobile. We placed it in the back of the van, chatted about expecting two more little boys with the couple who had chosen to stop with one.

We had some lunch, then headed to the McGregor pool to meet Kristan and her boys. It was definitely a warm day and the first day the pool was open. We arrived and there were grandparents there with two sets of twin grandchildren. One set was boy/boy and the other boy/girl. They lived across the street and said that they brought them over often when giving the parents a break. We talked about how special twins were, and how much fun it was going to be. We probably talked for 20 minutes about it. I was happy, excited, ready for it all.

We all sat in the pool and enjoyed the cool water. Willy played with the three older boys, and Thomas hung out with Kristan and I. I was enjoying the weightlessness-ish of being in the pool. Lucas was flipping around and Caleb was kicking and pushing my ribs on the right. He hung out there alot. I gently rubbed him a little to make it more comfortable. We did this alot. He'd kick and push around my ribs and I would give him some love. Then he would stretch out and get more comfortable.

After leaving the pool, we headed home for naptime. The boys went upstairs to sleep and I took my post on the couch, close to the bathroom. I fell asleep quickly, and Willy played a game on the computer. At about 2:30 I felt a spurt of wetness. I jumped up and went to the bathroom. I didn't know what it was, but feared my water had began to leak. I had read about it some, but didn't really want to believe it. Maybe Lucas had just pushed heavily down on my bladder or something. We decided to keep an eye on it.

Nothing else really happened for a couple hours so we headed out to Mike and Dru's to drop the kids off for the night. We were there about 20 minutes when I went to the bathroom and noticed some pink. I immediately became scared, knowing what this probably meant. We left the boys and headed to the hospital. We talked on the way there about what this could mean. They would simply admit me and keep me in the hospital for 12 more weeks. We would have to re-arrange things with Colton and Ethan. Mike and Dru would help with them and some stuff around the house, and Willy would work from home a few days a week. We had this.

We arrived at the hospital and lay in triage for what seemed like hours. They had a hard time determining whether or not my water had broke. They did an ultrasound and measured Lucas and Caleb. They measured right on track, 3 ounces apart. They couldn't find the sac line with this machine, but both babies were swimming freely around. After a few hours, and several tests, a tech popped her head in to tell the nurse that one of my bags had ruptured.

I will never forget the way I felt at that very moment. Up until that moment I had hoped with all I had that it was something silly. But this was really happening. We asked the nurse what it meant. She said they would admit me for the rest of my pregnancy. She said that they have women who come in and stay the last 12-16 weeks of their pregnancies and they have healthy, full-term babies. I took a deep breath and made phone calls while waiting for the on-call doctor to come in with the plan.

Dr. N came in and checked me to make sure I wasn't dilating or anything. We talked some about my pregnancy. She told me she had 10 month twin boys at home and that we were in for some fun when we brought Lucas and Caleb home. She told the nurses to start me on steroids and that I needed to be using a bedpan. She then said the first 48 hours were critical. If I could get the steroids in me for 48 hours, they would help with lung and brain maturity. And if I didn't go into labor, then we would be on a much safer side of all this. We needed to get them to 25 weeks and 2 lbs for them to have a much higher chance of surviving, and much lower chance of complications. I thought, "No problem." We got this.

We settled in for the night. A night with little sleep, but full of hope for the next several weeks.

I can't believe this weekend is already here. I have been pulling away from it for so long. I can't believe how much changed. I wish more than anything in the world that it all ended differently. I wish I knew, really knew, that babies die. I don't think I enjoyed those last days with them as much as I could have. I loved them, talked to them all the time, but I also watched the clock, groaned about using the bedpan. I would have taken more pictures, requested to watch them longer on ultrasounds.