I never thought the day would ever come. I never thought that I would go through the experience. I never thought that I would be a C-Section mom.
Let me start from the beginning.
I found out that I was pregnant again, in July of 2015, after finding out I was pregnant in June. I had to reschedule my pregnancy confirmation appointment twice because of some unfortunate events. Maybe God was trying to prepare my mind.
My mind was not prepared.
The ultrasound technician moved her wand all over my belly. This was routine to me at this point. I just laid there and thought. There was a certain moment when I lifted my head. My vision is kind of bad, and I couldn’t exactly see what was being typed on the screen. The one thing that I did see typed on the screen was the number “2”.
“TWINS?!”, I screamed. The technician just nodded her head. I immediately looked at my husband, who was super excited, and then Julian, who was still in an infant car seat. I’ve had experience with back-to-back pregnancies before, but going from a singleton pregnancy to a multiple pregnancy in less than a year was CRAZY.
I checked out with the receptionist. Her face was lit up. As she was scheduling my follow-up appointment, she started talking to her co-workers. “Man, someone must have gotten some really bad news! Did you hear all of that hollering back there!”. I could feel all of the embarrassment on my face as I took my appointment card.
I went into that office thinking that number 5 would be my last. I didn’t have plans for numbers 5 and 6. While my husband saw this as a beautiful moment, my depression was triggered. I was worried. How was this pregnancy going to affect my body? How are we going to afford twins? We weren’t rich by any means. Though MANY people side-eyed my latest pregnancy, for different reasons, my husband and I carried on.
Pregnancy was difficult. I was so heavy. I couldn’t just hop out of bed. I rolled out of bed. Nausea was the worst. There were two babies constantly kicking the shit out of me.
I had bloodwork performed more than normal. Because I was overweight, carrying twins, and living with Lupus, my pregnancy was classified as “High Risk”. After the halfway mark in my pregnancy, the local OB told me that she could no longer treat me because my bloodwork indicated “increased levels of disease”. So, what does this mean?
Well, I was transferred to an OB whose office was an hour away. I HATE traveling, but I didn’t have another choice. I was in that office and hospital every other week, and eventually two times a week, until I delivered.
I had multiple ultrasounds that lasted as long as 3 hours, and weekly stress tests. I even saw a pediatric cardiologist a few times.
By the time I hit 38 weeks gestation, it was time to have my babies. My OB didn’t want me to be pregnant anymore, and quite frankly, I didn’t want me to be pregnant anymore.
My stomach was so big that I could barely walk. Breathing was difficult at times. I was just really uncomfortable.
I was scheduled for induction on February 15th, 2016. I was excited because I was going to have my babies at a well-known, teaching hospital. I just knew that my experience would be top tier.
I was wrong.
I arrived for my induction on time. When I went to check in, it took the receptionist 30 minutes to find my file. My wait was even longer.
When I finally settled in my room and changed into my gown, it was time to be “checked”. As usual, I was nervous as Hell, and asked the doctor for a minute. It doesn’t matter how many time I get pregnant, I will never get used to a doctor performing those duties with fingers or speculums.
A pill was placed because I wasn’t ripe yet. It didn’t bother me. At least I didn’t have the experience of having a foley bulb inserted again. Donnie and I decided to get some sleep.
The medicine really didn’t do much to start the labor process, so I was given Pitocin. I was used to this medicine. I’m convinced that it was derived straight from the pits of Hell. It is some strong medicine.
Contractions picked up a couple of hours later. The doctor came back into the room. It was time for another “check”. This “check” felt more uncomfortable than the last one. I would never see this doctor ever again.
As active labor kicked in, I asked for an epidural. I don’t even try to be brave when it’s time to give birth. The pain is excruciating. I know this because the epidural that I was given during my labor experience with Ariana did not work.
Having an epidural placed is scary. There is a long ass needle being inserted into your spine. Doctors love telling you “You’re just going to feel a little pinch”, or “It’s going to feel like a bee sting”. No ma’am.
Still, the pain of having an epidural inserted is not nearly as bad as a contraction.
The nurse gave me a button that I could press to increase the amount of medicine that I was receiving. I’ve never seen this before. I was excited. I know I pressed that button about 50 times. As soon as the epidural fully kicked in, I went back to sleep.
I woke up after feeling a “pop” No big deal. That just meant my water had broken. I called the nurse to my room. When she lifted my blanket, I could see a look of horror on her face. The nurse rushed out of the room, and came back with another nurse. I wanted to know what the Hell was going on.
Not only had my water broken, I was also gushing blood. At that moment, the three of us were panicking. Donnie was still asleep. Yes, he is a very hard sleeper.
I started feeling weak. Eventually, there were 5 nurses in the room. All of them had blood soaked hands. They were desperately trying to stop the bleeding. I later read my discharge paperwork, and discovered that the doctor who disappeared had stripped my bag of water. I never authorized this!
I saw my blood on the floor as I was given a shot. The shot eventually stopped the bleeding. I was 8 centimeters dialed at this time. The baby monitors must have been taken off or knocked off during the commotion because one of the nurses fastened them back on.
The nurse was having trouble locating the heartbeat of Baby B. Baby B was Jessica. Finally, one of the nurses located the heartbeat, but it was very faint. One of the nurses woke Donnie up.
At that moment, I was rushed to the operating room. I was given an oxygen mask and told to push. I don’t think I was fully dilated. Normally, pushes last for 10 seconds. I was told to push for 15 seconds. After more than 5 rounds of pushing, Joshua was born. It was 9:44am. He was quickly whisked away. Jessica would not descend, however. The doctor reached into my womb to try to pull Jessica out, but she was being stubborn. He had her feet, but she wouldn’t move.
I was quickly transferred to an operating table, and given more medicine. I struggled to tell a nurse that I couldn’t breathe. I was numb past my neck, and I felt like I was suffocating. She assured me that I was okay. I did not feel okay.
Jessica was removed from my womb at 9:56am. Just that fast. I don’t remember hearing her cry. I was so weak. She was also whisked away. Donnie followed the nurse who took our babies. The doctor asked me if I wanted my tubes tied. I gave him the go ahead. He asked me again. “Yes!”, I exclaimed. I don’t know where that energy came from, but I knew that I never wanted to do this again.
I was wheeled into recovery. I remember being so cold and feeling so weak. I couldn’t get enough blankets to keep me warm.
I finally got to meet my babies. They were so beautiful. They looked so peaceful as the slept.
After awhile, we were wheeled to our Mother and Baby room. It was a huge room. It was very nice. My babies were taken back to the nursery. The doctor came in and explained to me that I had lost a lot of blood. I knew this already. He told me that I needed to have blood transfusions. I received 6 bags of blood before I started to feel normal again. Well, as normal as possible. I was still pretty numb from the anesthesia, and I was still sporting compression socks and a catheter.
The stay at the hospital was lengthy. I checked in on Monday, and wasn’t discharged until Saturday.
I remember the first time that I had to get up and walk. I needed a nurse to help me get to the bathroom. The i struggled to swing my legs to the side of the bed. As soon as I put one of my feet on the floor, the pain TORE through my body. I quickly took my weight off of that foot. I tried this a few more times before I just said, “Screw it!”, and decided to push through the pain.
The pain was unbearable, but I really needed to go to the bathroom. I had no idea how I was going to do this. Donnie was on leave from work, so I definitely had help with the kids
I whined through the pain as I hunched my way over to the bathroom. Please Jesus! I don’t fault these medical professionals for being agitated. There are many more patients that need care, and half of them were probably almost as annoying as I was.
Saturday’s ride home seemed longer than usual. When we got home, Donnie made sure I was settled into bed before putting the twins to sleep. As usual, the older children were curious and excited to see the babies. I was worn out and needed a nap, so I slept
I woke up to a ton of pain. Because I was breastfeeding, I was given prescription Tylenol to take. Tylenol does nothing for me. Still, I took the medicine. I was desperate for any type of relief from the piercing pain in my abdomen.
See, I was used to delivering the conventional way to the the point where I could walk just hours after giving birth. This c-section recovery experience was something I didn’t imagine.
I needed every bit of the 6 week postpartum period to fully recover from my emergency c-section. Donnie was a trooper. He literally JUMPED every time I needed help.
Going to the bathroom was Hell. The usual pain of standing up was starting to get to me. The pain was still unbearable. This time, the pain paralyzed me. I literally could not more once that pain tore through my body. Then, it happened. I was so embarrassed. My legs were wet. This happened for a good 3 weeks.
Still, the show had to go on, so I slapped on a Depends and kept pushing. Maybe I pushed too hard. My c-section scar started to reopen and I developed a small infection.
Are you serious?
I was finally able to walk, with no assistance, 4 weeks after giving birth. I was still crouched over, but it was much easier to get around. I had a follow-up appointment to have my dressing taken off of my wound. There was so much tape! At least I didn’t have staples.
By 6 weeks postpartum, I was able to walk upright, and do everything for myself. This was a blessing because Donnie was set to return to work 2 weeks later. I was really going to miss his care and attentiveness though.
I wasn’t scared of being by myself with a newborn. I was scared of being by myself with two newborns and a one-year old. Not to mention, I had three other kids to get ready for school each morning.
All I hear is the echoing choruses of “You got a lot on your hands, don’t you?”.
Yes. Yes, I do.
If you are interested in jewelry, I sell paparazzi jewelry through my business, “Antonia’s Glamsc8pe”. Feed your $5.00 habit at my online store: