June 20th, Father's Day morning... yeah, Father's Day, we had an ultrasound to check the babies. Both heartbeats had been and were at that time perfect. The ultrasound tech told us that Aubrey was in birth canal. Yep, perfectly healthy, normal heartbeat living in my birth canal. The doctor wasn't there but there was no need for him to explain to us what that meant. I knew that Aubrey was going to die. None of it made any sense. I didn't feel anything the entire time. They told me if Aubrey came out of my cervix I would feel it and there would be lots of blood. There was nothing, NOTHING. And her fucking heartbeat was normal.
Mike and I lost it. We just said goodbye the whole day, playing Frank to her cause I wanted her to hear something nice. Young At Heart will never sound the same.
When the doctor came in that night he told us what our options were. He said that at that point there were no chances of Aubrey reaching viability outside. He told us that leaving her in my birth canal would be putting Michael's life at risk. So we decided to save Michael. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it. But to comfort ourselves we made up a stupid little thought that Aubrey gave up her life to save Michael's. Right.
So I was wheeled down the hall to a bright and cheery room. I don't know why they moved me in there. It made no difference. I can't even describe to you what it feels like to have someone remove a baby from you. It felt like my insides were being dug out.
Aubrey was born alive. It was awful. It was the worst most awful experience of my life. She was moving around. I can't even imagine what it must have felt like for her to slowly suffocate. To slowly die without even understanding why. Mike and I held her, listening to Sinatra for about an hour. That was about as long as she lived, one hour. We could see her heartbeat getting slower and slower. It was horrible. I didn't think I would be able to even look at her after she was born because I thought it would haunt me the rest of my life, but I didn't want her to die alone. The worst part was she look exactly like me. She had my nose and lips and fingers... Mike's toes, though. It was so sick for something so perfect to die for no reason.
We then had to suck it up and stay positive for Michael's health. They had left her placenta in there because they were unsure if the placentas had fused. The doctor was also very positive about things because he said it looked like the cervix was closing. Our new plan was to be transferred to the other hospital to see the specialist and get the cerclage. But I had to make it 48 hours stable without an infection. I would be transferred the morning of the 23rd.
On June 22nd around 10 pm Michael's water broke. I can't even explain to you why because nobody knows. You can lay in a hospital bed refusing to get up and still break your water. I remember looking at Mike when I was laying there and I've never seen him look so scared. It was over. We both knew it. I couldn't believe that it was happening again. I couldn't do it again.
The next morning they did an ultrasound. Doctor told us what we already knew. Michael had no water and his foot was in my cervix. He told us the chances of Michael surviving were slim. BUT his heartbeat was normal. You know, that was like this sick game the entire time. My babies died completely healthy. The heartbeats kept me laying there, but I ultimately had to make the decision to kill them even though their heartbeats told me not to. It was sick. It would have been so much easier if they had just died on their own.
There was no point in my lying there anymore so I got up the will to walk to the shower. My legs didn't work anymore and I almost blacked out after my shower from a fall in blood pressure. I longed the whole time I was laying there for a shower and it was just a shower. There was nothing fantastic about it.
Michael was born alive on June 24th. It was a thousand times worse than what happened with Aubrey. I contracted Michael mostly out. The nurses and Mike kept asking me to take something for the pain, but it was almost like this punishment I wanted for myself. I'm killing my baby so I should feel the pain of it. The doctor came in to help me deliver Michael. It was horrible to actually push out your baby knowing full well that he would suffocate and die.
Michael was much bigger than Aubrey. It was so strange to look at him because he was so much more developed because he had had more time in the womb and more water. And it was exactly how I had said. He looked just like Mike. Aubrey looked just like me and Michael looked just like Mike. He was perfect. There wasn't a thing wrong with him. He too slowly died laying on my heart.
Before delivering Michael I had to sign this waiver. If something were to go wrong they would have to go to the OR and they would put me under anastesia because it would be quite painful. They would have to perform this procedure where they go into the uterus through the vaginal canal and scrape out any leftover placenta. Sometimes with premature delivery the placentas get stuck because they are not ready to come out. I had to sign the waiver because it can cause scaring to your uterus.
Of course, something did go wrong. They pumped pitocin in me after Michael was delivered to get the placentas out. They had it dripping so quickly into my system that I was in excruciating pain within 15 minutes. The doctor told the nurses when he left that the placentas could take up to 2 hours to come out, that he wasn't concerned. I tried to deal with the pain but Mike kept telling me there was no point in putting myself through it so I gave in and got something injected into my IV. It worked for about 10 minutes until the pain became so bad that it over-road the drugs and putting me straight back into reality. The nurses came in and had me push out what they thought was one placenta. They had me keep pushing and every time I did I had gushes of blood, more and more blood. The doctor came in a little bit later and looked at everything and said he needed to get the placentas out now. Everything got really scary. He started yelling at the nurses, telling them to drop what they were doing. I'll never forget the words "I'm not going to lie, you've lost a lot of blood." It was frightening. Then he told me he had to do that procedure and I could hit him later for it. I was so scared that it didn't even matter, I wanted him to do what he needed to do. I had no anestesia, no drugs... It was horrible. I hardly made a sound though cause I think I was in some sort of shock. Thinking back on it all I still don't believe it.
A little bit later they pumped someone else's blood into me. Never would I have ever agreed to that but it just didn't even matter anymore. I was sent home the next day. When the wheelchair girl came up to take me down to the car she was so confused when we opened the door. She had this face like "where is the baby?" And then when she realized she patted me on the shoulder and said it was going to be okay. Fuck you. Don't talk to me. Your heart didn't just break twice.
So there you have it. Two perfect human beings gone for no reason at all. I did everything I could do to save them and it didn't make a damn bit of difference. I went through every bit of pregnancy and labor, even getting my milk a day later, and all I have to show for it is 2 memory boxes the hospital gave us. I get 2 boxes to put on a shelf in the nursery. And please, I would love to never hear again "It's part of God's plan." So many people have said this to us and I have no idea why. Is that supposed to make me feel better? That my babies death was planned? My life is a living nightmare now because of God? Why would that make me feel any ounce of bow down in servitude? My babies did NOT die in some elaborate plan for my life. My babies died for nothing. I have to spend the rest of my life wanting them so badly... waking up every morning and realizing it is real, falling apart all over again... that is not a plan. If it is, it's disgusting and I'd rather not hear about it.
I don't know what we're supposed to do with what is left now. Mike and I are dreading the holidays. Everything seems so empty now without our babies to look forward to. I miss them so much. I can't even get through one day without crying over them and begging for them to come back to me. It's sick but all I want to do is get pregnant again and for it to be boy/girl again because in a way it would actually feel like they did come back to me. I would feel like it was them and I could just be happy again.
I want to wake up from this nightmare.
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