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Today Bloggers are taking time to raise awareness about prematurity. When I found out I was pregnant with quadruplets, I was told my babies would be born early. How early was hard to predict. There are so many "magic numbers" when you're dealing with multiples. My pregnancy became all about countdowns to various weekly milestones.
The first countdown was to week 5. This is the week I went for my first ultrasound to see how my pregnancy was going. It was also the week we found out I was carrying quadruplets.
The next countdown was to week 10. This is the first appointment I had with my obstetrician since becoming pregnant. He took one look at me and I could see the panic on his face. Since week 5 I had not been able to keep down much food. I was rapidly losing weight. He was concerned on a personal level because a close friend and patient had just lost her triplets at 19 weeks.
I tried not to focus on 19 and instead counted to 18 weeks... when we could find out the genders. My perinatologist jumped the gun at 16 weeks and excitedly announced one of the babies was a boy. At 18 weeks we found out all four babies were girls. This was a fun revelation, but meant the names Gavin and Wyatt were no longer on our short list of potential baby names.
Then I nervously counted to 19 weeks. It came. It went. We made it.
The biggest "week" was yet to come. We were informed from the beginning that I had to carry these babies to 28 weeks in order to deliver them at our local hospital. If I went into labor earlier than that I would be transferred 2+ hours away to the nearest facility with pediatric specialists. There was no way I was going to have my babies in a hospital so far away. Two hours? No, I wanted my babies to be delivered 20 minutes from my house so I could visit them every day once I was discharged.
At exactly 28 weeks we toured the NICU and talked with someone from the hospital about the "quad delivery game plan." Then I went home to begin my countdown to my scheduled c-section at 32 weeks. I made it two days into that particular countdown before my four fragile little girls arrived in this world.
It has been a crazy ride, full of ups and downs. In that first year, I never would have imagined having four five-year-olds. Now my countdowns are to fun milestones... such as the first day of kindergarten next year!
When I found out I was pregnant with quadruplets, my life became defined by numbers.... weeks to be exact. I knew I would be delivering my babies early... but how early was the question.
Twenty-eight weeks and two days. Those two days are important. It's two days longer that my daughters had time to grow before coming into the world. Rarely will you meet a parent of preemies who doesn't talk about the birth in terms of weeks and days. Some of them can tell you the hours involved, too.
To see pictures of preemies is deceiving. Pictures did not capture the terror of having four babies weighing between 1 1/2 pounds and 2 pounds 4 ounces. In pictures my daughters looked delicate, but not that small. To give people an idea of the challenges we faced, Hubby sent this picture to friends and family:
That is a picture of Cakes' foot and Hubby's wedding band. He has average sized hands. (The blue tint is because all the girls were under Bilirubin lights for jaundice.) After seeing that picture people finally understood our fears.
With preemies, everything becomes a milestone... the first time you can hold your baby (it was about two weeks before we got to do more than transfer them from their isolette to the scale), the first time she poops, the first time she opens her eyes. I have pages upon pages documenting each of these "firsts," and plenty of pictures to go with them.
I consider us very blessed in our lack of "preemie problems." Sue Sue was born with an open heart ductus, but it closed without surgery. Each of the girls had Retinopathy of Prematurity, but, again, no need for surgery. Sue Sue had feeding issues and was eventually transferred to a children's hospital 2 1/2 hours away from us (an excrutiating and exhausting week, I might add). She finally came home with a feeding tube, which lasted for about a week. On Christmas Day she pulled the tube out, so, out of frustration, I gave her a bottle. which she drained. No more feeding issues!
Even now, at age 4, the issue of prematurity still comes up. For instance, next year my daughters miss the kindergarten cut-off by three days. So many parents have rolled their eyes and told me to appeal and start them in kindergarten. Yet, if they had been born "on time" (December) this wouldn't be an issue. At this point, I'm leaning toward another year of preschool. I would rather have four smart cookies who enjoy school than four girls struggling through school because I pushed them to start early, even if it's just a matter of days.
November is Prematurity Awareness Month. On Nov. 17, bloggers will unite to raise awareness about the crisis of premature births. I know why my daughters were born early, but I am forever thankful for the advances made by the March of Dimes and other organizations which have helped my daughters grow and thrive. If you want to share your own story or get involved in the effort to raise awarness, you can visit Bloggers Unite.
Who among us has not had a day, maybe even a weekend, where you just don't want to get out of bed? Maybe you've had a bad day, maybe it's rainy and gloomy outside, maybe you just want to be lazy for a day. Sounds nice, right? Imagine having your doctor tell you to stay in bed. Still sounds nice, right? Staying in bed on doctor's orders? Sure... until one day turns into 23 weeks. Ask anyone who has been bedridden for more than a day and they will tell you it isn't as fantastic as it seems. (For the record, that is not a picture of me.)
From the minute I found out I pregnant with quadruplets I was told to prepare for bed rest. The average estimate was around 18 weeks. OK, not bad, so I could work until then, prepare a cute nursery, buy all the gear I needed, enjoy being pregnant.... that noise you just heard is me shrieking with laughter, imagining what would have happened if that had been the reality.
Five weeks into my pregnancy I had my first bout of morning sickness. At this point I knew I was pregnant, but that's all I knew. I came home from work on a Thursday night nauseous beyond belief, amazed I had managed to work my full shift, and promptly fell into bed. I stayed there until mid-morning the next day when we had to embark on a two hour drive to the reproductive endocrinologist. As soon as I walked in the office I asked for an area to lie down. From that day until I delivered I did everything from a horizontal position.
I was never on a strict bed rest. I was told I could pretty much do whatever I felt up for... walking up and down steps, sitting outside... but it was a lot easier saying those things than actually doing them. For the first few weeks everything made me nauseous... thinking about food, talking about food, eating food... and hearing noise. Yep. Noises made me hurl. For about a month all I could do was lay in bed and either sleep or stare at the ceiling. I am not exaggerating. I was so thankful when I could finally sit up and listen to the TV. Yes, listen because watching the screen made me nauseous. Eventually I was able to actually watch TV and read a book or magazine.
I still live with the consequences of bed rest. I lost a lot of muscle strength in my legs. If I sit for long periods of time my legs ache when I finally stand up to walk. In the mornings I walk like a stereotypical old lady as my muscles fight my efforts to use them.
Still, there is an upside to my bed rest. Except for one week at the beginning of my pregnancy I never spent any time in the hospital until I gave birth. I was fortunate enough to be able to serve my time on bed rest at home... in my own bed, using my own shower. Twenty-three weeks of bed rest was certainly difficult, but I'm grateful I could do it on my own terms.
