My husband and I have been trying to build our
family for about seven years now. We have
undergone 6 IUIs, then 2 failed IVFs, then a surgery,
then one more IVF. I was ready for the worst, and
the 3rd IVF was the end of the road for us. But then
the miraculous news - we were pregnant. I'll never
forget the day the nurse called me to confirm the
blood test. I was on my cell phone and pulled over
to write down what she was telling me. I just
couldn't believe it. I was the happiest person in the
world, and even with my terrible morning sickness,
I enjoyed every bit of being pregnant; I treasured it.
My levels were so high that I always suspected we
were pregnant with twins, and it was confirmed
with ultrasound at our 8 week appointment. Then,
going on my 16th week, I woke up in the middle of
the night and my sheets were soaking wet. I
walked to the bathroom leaking water the whole
way. This wasn’t in any of my happy pregnancy
books. It was after midnight and I didn’t know
what to do so I tried to lie down, but I finally
convinced myself that this wasn’t normal and I
woke my husband up and phoned the doctor. My
ob happened to be the one on call that night, and
she told us to meet her in the emergency room.
She confirmed that my membrane had ruptured and
was grave about our chances. She immediately put
me on bed rest and antibiotics and scheduled an
appointment with a specialist the next morning who
did an extensive ultrasound and saw that all of the
fluid had emptied out of Baby A’s sac. He said he
would rather it had been Baby B since that would
offer more of a cushion, and maybe even plug
things up, giving us a better chance for the babies.
We were given the bittersweet news that Baby B was
a boy, but he said he couldn’t tell on Baby A since
the fluid was gone. It broke my heart to see my
little baby A all scrunched up and unable to flip
around like I had seen him do only a few weeks
earlier. He gave us all of the bleak options, and we
chose bed rest and antibiotics, but we were so
hopeful. That was Saturday. On Monday night, I
was watching TV and trying to get my mind off of
my worries, but I started having pains that felt like
menstrual cramps. I didn’t want to believe it was
happening. Finally, I went to the bathroom and at
that point I knew I was going into labor. I felt the
baby already emerging and I absolutely panicked! I
honestly thought that I had felt a little leg or an
arm, but my husband later told me that was
probably the umbilical cord, which is what he saw
when they got me to the ER. My husband and
parents carried me down the stairs and loaded me
into the car and I was basically telling the on-call
doctor on my cell phone that he’d better meet me
in the ER. They took me to labor and delivery and
checked for heartbeats. They were still there and
the nurse seemed relieved about that. However,
when the doctor arrived, he confirmed that Baby A
was “presenting” and Baby B still had his little
heartbeat. We were hopeful, but I was starting to
feel extremely sick. They checked my blood for
infection and my levels were extremely high. The
doctor got another doctor on the phone from the
perinatologist’s group (the one I had spoken to
wasn’t on call and it was nearly midnight.) He kept
saying that they should induce delivery on both
babies, but we didn’t want to hear that! I had
convinced myself that even if they both didn’t make
it, we would fight to try to keep Baby B. At that
point, I knew that Baby A didn’t have a chance. I
kept saying, “It’s still my decision, right?” I wanted
to talk to the other doctor, the one who had given
us hope, but it was after midnight, and the doctor I
was talking to said that he had dealt with more
cases even than the doctor we wanted to talk to.
He said that if we delivered Baby A and then they
sutured me up that I would still have to get through
9 more weeks before we even had an inkling of a
chance, and even then our chances were slim. He
said that given my situation, I was more likely to
lose Baby B in the next few days, and if we didn’t do
this right now, I could get a staff infection, have to
have a hysterectomy, and any number of terrible
things. I couldn’t bear to hear it, and I put my
husband on the phone. The doctor told him the
same thing, in medical terms, and finally my
husband said, “Can’t you just tell me in plain
English?” Then, everyone left me and my husband
in the room together to make the decision. We
wailed and held each other, just sobbing, and
completely unglued that we had to make this
desperate decision. I hate admitting it even now,
because part of me feels like we should have been
able to do more to save our boys. We had to make
the decision, and at that time I was just so weak. I
just didn’t think I could make it 9 more weeks, and
when I told my husband, we decided together,
under incredible duress, to let them induce
delivery. Part of me, now that I have gained back
my strength wonders how I could have let them
take my babies. And I feel so much guilt for that.
That night was the bleakest, most desperate night
of my life. My husband held our two boys as they
each died in his hands and we just sobbed. The
other decision may have led to my health failing,
but sometimes I wonder if that’s the way it was
supposed to be. Maybe I could be in heaven right
now looking after my boys. My little niece says that
they have an auntie in heaven watching over them –
referring to my sister who was killed in a car
accident at age 16 – thirteen years ago. I take
some comfort in that thought. Our precious little
boys, Alexander and Bode, were born and died on
March 7, 2006 and I'm still so devastated. Our
doctor said that we really didn’t have a chance, and
she reminded me that even though I am back to
feeling better now, they had me on IV antibiotics for
3 days, plus two blood transfusions. My husband
likens our situation to nearing the summit of a
mountain we have been climbing for a very long
time, then falling off without any ropes. We were
so close to having our family, and now we're back
at the beginning, or worse, since I doubt we'll be
able to do any more infertility treatments. I have
had many friends who can relate to how difficult it
is to have a miscarriage, but only my husband who
understands how difficult it is to lose our twins,
coupled with infertility. He has more hope than I
have right now. I just turned 32, my husband is 39,
and it feels like our window is closing. I have my
terrible days, and my not-so-bad days, although
it’s still a very fresh pain. I am blessed to have
good friends and caring family, and I definitely
appreciate my husband more than ever.
Thank you for reading and listening to my long
story. I already feel better for having written it. I
plan to send it to LAMBS, Loss After IVF and the
PROM list, so I apologize to those of you who
receive it more than once. Thank you all for your
stories, they have already been a great comfort.
Ginger
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