It’s 8:46 P.M. That means there are only 3 hours and 14 minutes left of the worst day of my life. I’ve cried, wept, sobbed, and cried some more. My eyes are swollen and the headache medicines aren’t even touching the throbbing in my head. I’m only emotionally able to write this because TTTS has not yet claimed the life of either of my daughters. We are also in a critical stage and we NEED your continued prayers.
We checked in at the hospital at 5:25 A.M. Since they misplaced our paperwork, we missed our 7:30 spot in the OR. At 7:00 we were finally taken to the prep room. Right as we walked in, they separated Nate and I. All of a sudden, I was standing in a room all alone and the tears stared to pour.
We met with person after person during this prep time. Then it was time to be moved. Being wheeled in the hospital bed down to the OR was like a horrible dream. People watched and I cried.
Then we sat in a holding area right outside of the OR. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe. We met with at least six more team members and then came the happy drugs. Within seconds I was feeling like I’d had the best margarita of my life. Again, more travel. Again, more watching and crying. The lights hurt my eyes and I was no longer understanding what was swirling around me.
The OR room itself was everything I’d ever imagined. Lights. Medical equipment. People everywhere. I was moved onto the operating table and strapped down. The fear was non existent. I’m assuming it was the drugs, but I’d like to also think the peace of Christ was covering me.
More medicine. Then a sheet went up and I couldn’t see anything else. The anesthesiologist sitting by my head encouraged me to fall asleep. Her partner however, held my hand and I started talking to her. I had been told I may or may not remember this procedure. I remember everything. Before starting I heard myself thanking everyone about ten times. Then I remember telling the lady holding my hand my entire life story. No, really. All about Nate and I’s love story too.
I felt no pain and it was over in no time. I was again transported through the hospital to recovery. Those two hours in recovery were the worst in my life. I felt terrible and was hooked up to NINE different things. I had just come out of surgery and had been given NO pain meds. I was hurting and incredibly uncomfortable. Finally, I was given a pill and laid back for the 20 minutes before it would work.
Then I felt something. A tiny gush. Then another. I knew that very moment what was happening, but I didn’t know what it meant or what to do about it. We called the nurses and things seemed to move in slow motion. They called the doctor right away. Then they put pads under me and tested to see what exactly was leaking. The tiny gush had turned into an alarming river. I was hysterical. Nate was helpless.
After what felt like hours (really only 15 minutes) a PA arrived. She started scanning, but wouldn’t tell us anything. A few minutes later the MFM herself arrived. She was solemn when she told us we were losing our twins. My water had broken on twin A due to the surgery.
There was nothing to be done. Twin A would for sure die. Twin B had a 10% chance of making it.
I started dazing out. Nate tried asking questions.
We moved again. This time to recovery. The nurses tried to be comforting and the PA came in again to go over everything one more time. Everyone seemed to think the same thing: that these little ones would be passing away.
The afternoon was calmer, but so difficult. Our girls were still living, but our hearts were breaking. Why had God allowed this? We thought he was going to work a miracle today. Would he still? There’s still time.
Around 4:45 our doctor came in. He said the worst had happened. The surgery to stop the TTTS had been perfect, but the complications were what would cause death. The only thing he could offer us was an experimental treatment done on 15 other women out in California. No major risks and a 60% chance of sealing the bag of waters back up. This would not mean we would be in the clear, but it would mean the twins could live to fight another day.
We decide in the morning, but we will probably do the experimental treatment. This will keep us in Houston several more days. Our best chance to beat TTTS is for this treatment to work. At this point (really all along the way) we just need God to step in. Doctors are amazing, but we need a miracle.
- Infection. Should I get a fever, it’s all over.
- Per-term labor. Since my waters are broken I could deliver any time.
- Stress to the babies, causing death.
- God preforms a miracle and does what doctors can’t.
- I make it through the night without going into labor.
- We still have two live babies in the morning.
- Infection never enters the scene.
- The treatment on Thursday is successful.
- The babies stay in the womb till viability (24 weeks) or later.