** Warning: this will probably make you cry. There are also pictures at the end, but I have spaced them down a bit in case you want to read the text, but not see the images.
Being pregnant with triplets is no easy task by any stretch of the imagination. Ever since I learned our twins were really triplets on Nov. 22, 2011, I was thrown into a weekly pattern of doctor's appointments and daily changes to my mind, body and chemistry. It was difficult - I'm not going to lie. But things were going well, really well, medically speaking. On Wed. Feb. 8 I had a bi-weekly cervix check, which showed a consistent 3.7 cm, but on Fri. Feb. 17 an ultrasound showed a stark change - a drop down to 1.5 cm. I was immediately put on home bed rest and told to come in the following Tues. Mon. night, I suspected I was having contractions, but decided to wait until my appointment the following day. At that appointment, I was told my cervix was basically nonexistent and was sent immediately to the hospital for an indefinite amount of time. I was somewhat expecting this, but I was in shock and becoming increasingly worried. I was only 22 1/2 weeks - at least 1 1/2 weeks out from the 24 week minimum for viability. And to make matters worse, I had thrown my back out that morning and was in excruciating pain. I was admitted and placed on two medicines - one pill and one IV - that would hopefully slow the contractions and keep the babies cooking for as long as possible.
The meds were horrible. I don't know who discovered that Magnesium Sulfate slowed contractions, but there must be an alternative. As the nurse started the IV, she explained that many patients say it feels like they're burning from the inside out. I don't know how many degrees it shifted my internal thermostat, but I know everyone who entered my room was absolutely freezing... except me. And that's not all. It makes it impossible for you to focus on anything - literally focus your eyes or focus your mind - and it gives you the worst dry mouth you could possibly imagine. But the more you drank (or ate - I mainly munched on ice chips) the more the Mag would dilute in your system, so they had to keep increasing the dosage until I was on an insanely high amount. But, after several days of this and trying to get into the mentality of long-term hospital bed rest, I was moved up from the 3rd floor labor unit to the 5th floor postpartum unit where I was to stay as long as possible. Unfortunately, that wasn't very long at all.
I hadn't been in my room an hour when, upon returning to bed after a potty attempt, I felt something shift. It felt like someone had moved a water balloon inside my abdomen. I told the nurse and in the amount of time it took her to grab her supervisor, my water had broken and I was being rushed back down to the third floor and into a surgical room. There, they tried their best to clean me up and make me comfortable. They started an epidural (which was fantastic for my back pain) and then decided to put me in a birthing room to see what happened. Although most people thing that, when your water breaks, it's go time, that's not always the case. There was still a little hope that they could hold off the birthing process even without the safety of amniotic fluid. It makes the risk of infection a little higher, but the chance was worth the risk.
But that didn't last long either. Within an hour or two, I was told that I needed to push and our first son was born at 5:30 pm on Thurs. Feb. 23, 2012. He also died in our arms at 7:22 pm. Far too short a time for us to have our little Ewan Sutherland Baker, who will always be our eldest son. But there was still some hope. The doctor saw a chance of keeping Ewan's brother in there by tying off the sack as high as possible, keeping me on the meds and trying to ride out the pregnancy as long as possible. Then, hopefully, we could keep the twin boy and our little girl. We mourned our loss, but held hope that this new plan would work. But again, things did not go as planned.
Brian was now living at the hospital with me and working diligently to navigate the sea of doctors, nurses, medications, and beeping machines. I was so out of it that I barely knew what was going on. He was (and is) amazingly supportive and was doing whatever he could to make my life as tolerable as possible. Unfortunately, our efforts weren't enough. On Fri. night, my OBGYN (the amazing Dr. Thomas) came in and we discovered that our second son was not going to hold on much longer. He said there was a small chance that, if I could birth him without pushing, we might be able to save our daughter. The chance was enough for me. This is something that, in retrospect, seems so outrageous, yet it was the only option at the time. I was to wait and hope that he would pass naturally from me with as little effort as possible. We had no idea how long this would take and I didn't really allow myself to think about what it would entail.
That night, I dreamt that I needed to be up early for something. It was urgent, but when I woke up, I didn't know why I felt such a need to be awake. My stirring woke up Brian and I asked him, "Why am I up?" Then I felt something. There was a definite shift in my body - like my subconscious was warning me about this change - and I could feel what seemed like an arm in my birthing canal. We immediately called the nurse who, in turn, called Dr. Thomas. He was performing an emergency C-section in Clovis (a neighboring city) and would arrive in 30 minutes. Those were the longest 30 minutes of my life. You cannot even begin to imagine what it feels like to have a little life stuck in your body - wiggling and trying to make sense of this new situation - while you just have to sit and wait for someone to remove it from you. When Dr. Thomas arrived, he assessed the situation and said we needed to get him out, but there was a mass next to him. He was unsure if this was the twin's sack or if it was the girl's. As with everything else in this process, it was the less desirable of the two options. Dr. Thomas removed the boy and quickly realized the sack was not his, which triggered the need to deliver. Sebastian was placed on my chest as I was told to push. When his sister Amelia was born, there was another brief rush of hope as she uttered a little cry. They called in a special team of people to check her for viability, but she was just too early. For a brief while, I was able to hold our two children to my chest. Our second born, Sebastian Campbell Baker, was born at 5:43 am on Sat. Feb. 25 and left us at 7:37 am. His sister, Amelia Violet Baker, was a fighter. She was the smallest of the three, the last to arrive and the most reluctant to depart. She lasted almost a full hour longer than her brothers. Our little girl was born at 5:51 am on Sat. Feb. 25 and died in our arms at 9:02 am. Three children lost in three days. It's more than anyone should ever be asked to handle.
That afternoon, I was moved back up to the 5th floor and we were greeted by a reception of some of our closest friends. They helped distract us from the trauma for awhile and even got us to laugh. Both of my parents were also there for support and my brother-in-law joined us as well. I am truly grateful for all of them. But that night, Brian and I mourned our losses once again. The following day, I was released. My sister returned from a work trip overseas and joined us on Tuesday and our house has been filled with loved ones off and on. But in between, there are moments of painful silence. At times, I feel numb and at others, I am awash with grief. I fear losing the sadness because it reminds me of what we had - how we got to hold our little ones, even if it was for far too short a time. And yet, I fear the presence of eternal heartbreak. I'm sure we will find balance as time passes, but it's hard to see it a week out from such loss.
So this is where we stand - somewhere between pain and healing. We welcome visitors and are usually open to talking about this process, but some days are better than others. And we are grateful to all of you who have loved, supported, visited, brought food, and prayed for us during this time. And now, if you're interested, you can scroll down and meet our little ones.
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| Brian, Ewan and I |
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| Sebastian (left), Amelia (right) and I |
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