34-Weeks with Twins–They Said I’d Be Lucky To Make it

Today, I am 34-weeks pregnant with twin boys. If you would have asked me seven weeks ago if this seemed likely I would have said, “No.”

At 27-weeks, I was rushed to Labor & Delivery because I was two and half centimeters dilated and experiencing strong contractions– though I didn’t feel a thing.

Here I was thinking I was coming in for a routine ultrasound and BAM! they had me rolling through triage in a wheelchair.

Let me first share that I HATE hospitals. I acknowledge their benefits but they make me very uncomfortable. I have a grandmother who lives and breathes the emergency room. She could have an eye lash in her eye and she will call 911. I’m not kidding! She does it because she needs the attention– she likes to have the family rushing to the hospital to be by her bedside and cater to her every need. Unless suffering from “vanity issues” is a cause to waste a perfectly good hospital bed, I say toss a bottle of visine at her head and keep it moving.

As for me, if I have a choice of curing myself or bearing the pain, the last place I am going is to a hospital. I swear if my husband wasn’t so against me giving birth at home, we’d delivery these boys in our living room.

…I digress.

At 27-weeks I was told I had an “irritable uterus”, which is a funny term if you ask me.

Pelvis: I hate working with that damn Uterus, she’s always walking around with her face screwed up–making things difficult for everyone.

HeHe!

The doctors stated I was experiencing  preterm labor and if they could not stop it soon, the babies would be born premature and they would be at risk for many complications. I was given interval dosages of Indomethacin and Nifedipine along with two steroid shots in my thigh to help increase the development of the twin’s lungs. Then, they told me I had to stop working and remain in the hospital for two-weeks.

Errr! <record scratch> You want me to stop what? And stay where?

I was horrified–literally, in tears. I felt as if everything was spinning out of control. Everyone was telling me to think about what was best for the babies, as if that was not my intention. But, no one understood that I need to work in order to take care of these babies. Don’t get me wrong my husband is “Superman”, but the Fortress of Solitude is still a two income household.

I was just hit with too much information at one time and expected to process everything immediately.

Nurse: Call your job and tell them you won’t be back.

Nurse: Do you have final names?

Nurse: Do you have two car seats with you?

Nurse: Do you have a birth plan?

I wanted to scream, “B@#$%, I’m six-months pregnant with a nearly two-year old son waiting for me at home, and I just started TRYING to get use to the idea of even having three children. What makes you think I have a birth plan? That’s the problem, I didn’t plan  to have this kind of birth!!”

I stayed in the hospital overnight restricted to only using a very sexy metal bed pan because I wasn’t allowed to walk. In time, with the help of the medications the contractions seemed to lessen. So, the next morning, I announced I was leaving. Yes! Leaving.

The idea of me staying in the hospital for two-weeks to simply be “monitored” was ridiculous. My son was turning two-years-old in one week and I was not missing his birthday. Life was still going on around me. And, if my 24-hours on the Labor and Delivery floor showed me anything, it was that I still had a lot to get in order before the arrival of these two boys–plus, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital bed, in uncomfortable hospital clothes and eating horrible hospital food just wasn’t appealing to me. I would better serve my babies by being in a place that relaxed me, like the comfort of my own home.

The reality is the longer you stay in a hospital, the more the hospital gets paid from the insurance company. And this mommy refuses to stay “anywhere” for two-weeks just so you can “look at me”.

I know my body and I know how to follow directions. Just tell me when to take the medication and I will call you if  I experience any pain. But, until then, “I’m Out!”

So, that’s my story. Seven weeks ago today I discharged myself from the hospital. Yet, I did compromise. My company graciously offered me the opportunity to work from home, which has been a blessing.

At 34-weeks my babies are roughly 5 pounds each and doing very well. As for me, that’s another story.

My diary entry is this, “Listen. Know your body. And, use common sense.”