I arrive in London (without my husband might I add) and if I thought London was going to have my back on my decision to try and save the twins, I was wrong. The first Dr I meet in London is one from the NICU. She speaks to me about my decision and then she tried what I like to call scare tactics. She told me all the things that can go wrong with the twins and how even after everything they’ll most like still not make it and if they DO make it, they’ll probably come with a bunch of medical delays and need consistent long term care. I was told their brains and lungs wouldn't develop properly. I was told 22 weekers, especially twins just don’t and can’t make it..
I told the Dr I wanted everything done to save my daughters. I would deal with what comes of their lives. I told her I serve a mighty God who will make these decisions, medicine only goes so far. The Dr left and then the focus went onto getting the girls born. In the middle of the chaos (my husband rushing to London, prepping the girls arrival, etc) they realized my chest was sunken in and my oxygen was low. As they were trying to put oxygen on me and run tests all I could think about was getting the girls here. While in the operating room, the NICU Dr came in again telling me she wanted to discuss the option of letting the twins go once they were born. Comfort Care is what they call it. I remember yelling at her that my decision was made and the words I said was “DO YOUR JOB & SAVE MY DAUGHTERS!” Finally, 9:10pm on September 27th my husband busts through the operating doors and it was game time. Within 2 minutes, at 9:12pm Luna was born vaginally. She came out crying, moving and weighting only 410g.
The goal was to try and keep Ema in since she was in her own unbroken water. Within seconds Ema’s heart rate began to drop and they said she’d have to come to. At 9:29 Ema was born, crying and moving. She weighed 500g.
The twins were immediately swept away and worked on. It felt like an eternity before I got to go see them. I had to get cleaned up from the birth and then down for testing (where they found out I had pneumonia) my husband went with the twins. I remember him telling me they were incredibly small, smaller than he thought they’d be. Around 4hrs later I met the girls. Wow! The only thing I could think of is the fact that they were incredibly beautiful. My very small, very sick, very fragile daughters laying there and all I could see was their beauty. It makes me think that must be the way God sees us. Even when we’re fragile, broken, sick, all He sees is beauty.
I was told they were stable “for now”. I went back to my room and fell asleep for the first time in 4 days. At 4am the NICU Dr woke me telling me “please spend as much time with the girls as possible because who knows how much time you have” I stayed by their bed that night, staring at them and praying over them.
I knew if the twins were going to survive, they needed a prayer village so I created one on Facebook. I invited friends and family to join and I posted specific prayers there daily. We counted down the twins hours of life and soon days of life and weeks of life. Their page grew and grew. The members became family and really became our village.
“22 weekers do not survive!” ... or do they?
Commenti