I spent the next four days in the hospital on magnesuim sulfate to stop the contractions. I can clearly remember how I felt. I was so uncomfortable and hot. Not just normal hot, HOT. It was probably 65 degrees in the room, and everyone else was wearing jackets and shivering. I was asking my mom and John to lay rags soaked in ice water on my head and chest. I remember feeling like my pillow was on fire. Every time I closed my eyes I saw redness and flames swirling around. I kept having the strangest dreams.
To make myself relax, in hopes of slowing the contractions, I visualized my cervix closing. I kept an image of two little girl mermaids swimming around in ice cold crystal blue water. I still remember that image.
On the fourth day, the day that would be the girls' birthday, I woke up from a dream having one very long, very hard contraction. I suppose that was the contraction that brought me to 10. Shortly after that I began feeling pressure and hoped that I had to go to the bathroom. The doctor insisted on checking me, and of course I was fully dilated.
I remember the entire birth. I remember the kind, old man who was my anesthesiologist talking in my ear as he gave me the epidural. He had such a soothing voice that sounded just like Morgan Freeman. I remember the tears that rolled down John's face as they delivered the first baby, baby A, Holland. We were so scared. We heard her squeaking cry, and got a tiny peek at her as they rushed her to the table to be put on the ventilator. At the same time, they were delivering baby B, Eden. Eden's bed was down by my feet, so I didn't really see her until later in the NICU.
It was such a strange day. How do you act? What do you say? Do people congratulate you on the birth of your babies, or offer sympathy regarding the circumstances? We wanted so much to be happy that we had two beautiful babies who were ALIVE. But it was very hard to be happy. The best way I can think to describe that day is bittersweet.
Now, as we approach the second anniversary of their birth, it still feels the same way...bittersweet. We will not be celebrating their birth. Their birth was much too painful. Instead, we will be celebrating their lives. THAT is something worth celebrating.
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