12 July 2016

After three years of trying to conceive, we were told IVF was our only hope of getting pregnant. So in March 2016, my husband and I did our first round of IVF. My aunt passed away March 18th and we did our transfer the following day, March 19th. On my birthday, March 27th we found out we were pregnant! We were over the moon. The way everything had worked out it just seemed right. This was it. We were finally going to be parents!

We went to our first ultrasound two weeks later and at 6 weeks, we were able to see not one but two heartbeats!!! We were having twins!!! We were so excited! Two weeks later, while I was working we had a scare, I started bleeding. I work in a hospital so I ran to the ER to make sure everything was ok. I feared the worst. After my ultrasound was done and we saw both heartbeats strong and kicking, they determined I had a subchorionic hematoma (SCH) but everything was fine with babies.

The morning sickness was awful the following weeks, I lost 8lbs in the first trimester. I reached the second and it felt like such a milestone. We were going to be alright. My SCH had disappeared, the morning sickness went away at week 13 and then my supraventricular tachycardia (SVT) started acting up and my cardiologist put me on bed rest.

I remained at home on bed rest as each week went on. Following the doctors orders to make sure the babies were good. Anatomy scan was at 17 weeks and we found out we were having two girls! Ahhh! Week 19 rolled around and little did I know that week, our lives would change.

On Monday July 11th, after spending the day in bed, I went to the bathroom when I noticed something in my underwear that resembled a mucus plug. Being a FTM, I was guessing but it looked like a literal plug. I immediately called my doctor and he told me to go get checked out just in case. I wasn’t having any other symptoms. When I got to the hospital they checked my urine, did some blood work, hooked me up to the monitors, and did an ultrasound. Babies heart rates were 154 and 150. My cervical length was good. The blood work and urine analysis came back normal. At 11pm my obstetrician walked in to tell me I could go home that everything looked fine and just as he walked in, my water broke. Just like that, I went from “you’re going home” to “you’re losing baby A”. There was nothing they could do. I was going to deliver one of my girls and they were going to try to do a cerclage to save the other.

I slept one hour that night from 2:30-3:40. When I woke up I was starting to have small contractions every so often. By 6am they were 3-4 minutes apart. By 10:00, they were constant. The pain was excruciating. They kept offering me medicine for pain, but I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel. I didn’t want to be groggy when I met my babies. I told the nurse I had to push and when she checked me, she didn’t say anything just called the doc and said it’s time. At 10:22, Sofia Grace was born.

He had to get the placenta out next, but was struggling to get it out. He had to use instruments and call in for an ultrasound. That was when I saw my little Isabella, still in there, kicking and heart beating strong. He was finally able to get the placenta out and give me magnesium to try and stop the contractions to do the cerclage. It wasn’t working. I was losing too much blood. The contractions were still coming and I had lost 1,000cc of blood. At that point he had to make the decision to save me. Isabella was coming. She wanted to be with her sister.

After pushing some more, Isabella was born at 11:24. Neither of my little babies made it. They were too small to survive. My husband and I got to be with them after that. We held them, talked to them, kissed them, and told them how much we loved them and wish they would have lived. Giving them back was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I would only have memories and pictures of my precious little babies to take home with me.

We are dealing with it day by day, but it has definitely changed who I am. I get angry when people don’t acknowledge my babies because they didn’t take their first breath, or because they were only 19 weeks and 3 days. That doesn’t make them any less of babies that were a part of me. They were alive, and they made me a MOM.

 

Issa Jul16

 

 

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