Nothing Lasts Forever

My dreams came true. In June of 2010, my husband and I found out we were pregnant! Due to my rapidly growing waistline, we went in for a 9 week ultrasound and discovered two beating hearts! We were having TWINS and they looked great on the ultrasound. People always asked if we were scared, but we were beyond thrilled. Immediately we began buying things in two’s and white, always wondering what we were having, two boys, two girls, one of each? Just thinking back on the excitement brings tears to my eyes and starts the fluttering in my stomach all over again. There I was, 25, married to the man of my dreams, living in the house I’d always dreamt of, with a golden retriever rolling in the grass, and pregnant with TWINS! Life couldn’t be better. They say “nothing lasts forever”.

When you have a multiple pregnancy, you receive more frequent ultrasounds, so at 12 weeks I returned for an ultrasound where they told me once again that everything looked fine. As I met with my OB two days later, she casually told me that she believed we were having mono-mono twins. As I understood her, they would be identical and that was all. She informed me that at 20 weeks I would begin seeing a specialist at a different hospital because the hospital she was associated with didn’t have great capabilities for pre-term babies. She told me to plan for a 36-38 week delivery. On the drive home from the appointment I called all of my friends and family to announce that we’d be having identical twins! I was high off of pure joy and love for my babies. Later that day, I hopped online to discover all there was to know about my twins. What I didn’t anticipate was discovering that my twins had a 50/50 shot of surviving.

As I clicked on the first sight that came up when I typed in mono-mono twins, my eyes quivered at the words EXTREMELY HIGH RISK OF FETAL MORTALITY. All I could think was this cannot be happening to me! This is my first pregnancy, how can I have a complicated one? I’m going to lose my babies. I continued reading with tears streaming down my cheeks and my mind racing as I read 50/50 CHANCE OF SURVIVAL. My heart was thumping so loud that I could hear it and feel it in my ears. My hands were shaking. Perhaps, I thought, I’ll check another website. As I read through one after the other after the other, reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Fear and anger pumped through my veins. Why hadn’t my OB told me this? There I sat, alone, on my bed bawling. I called my husband hysterically and explained to him what I had just read.  He pleaded with me to stay off the internet and call my OB. My dreams and hopes for our little babies were shattering as I sat there crying, staring at the computer screen. They say “nothing lasts forever”.

There I was, at my lowest low, or so I thought, wondering what’s next. That night, I called my sister and told her what I found. Like the amazing sister she is, she found a study done on mono-mono pregnancies and told me to look it up. As I typed in “Heyborne Study” a site came up called MONOAMNIOTIC.ORG. I began reading story after story about successful “momo” births and the aggressive medical care that was needed. Sadly, along with those stories were devastating ones from mothers who had lost one or both of their babies. I soon realized I had to be proactive. I called my OB and demanded to see a perinatologist, a specialist in maternal fetal medicine. As if the fear and stress wasn’t enough, I had an emergency trip to the ER later that night due to abdominal cramping. All was fine regarding the cramping, but there we learned, at twelve and a half weeks along, we had two little boys growing inside. I think that was the point I really fell apart. The thought of losing my two little boys was more than anyone should ever have to handle.

As the sonographer moved her magic wand over my gelled up belly, I stared at the screen and saw my baby boys hearts beating away. Excitement was overshadowed by fear. At thirteen weeks along, my husband and I sat in a small, plain meeting room, waiting for my new doctor to come in with the results of my ultrasound. I don’t know if it was my sweaty palms or fear, but that room was absolutely freezing. I remember my legs and hands trembling as the doctor entered. He first asked me what I knew about mono-mono twins. My voice was so fearful as I told him what I had read about a 50/50 chance for survival. His explanation and plan gave me something to grab hold of and never let go:

Mono-mono twins share an amniotic sac, which allows for the two umbilical cords to become entangled and compressed, thus, cutting off the blood flow to one or both of the twins. These twins are very rare and 1% of twin pregnancies. In “normal” identical twins the egg splits between days 4 and 8 and then the amniotic sac forms around each blastocyst. In mono-mono twins, the egg splits between day 8 and 13, and the amniotic sac has already formed around the blastocyst prior to splitting. Any split after day 13 results in conjoined twins. 

He continued to map out a very clear medical care plan for me and my babies:

Begin inpatient care at the hospital at 24 weeks (the magic week for viability for fetuses)

Be monitored 3 times a day for 20 minutes to look for decelerations in the babies heart rates, which could mean a compressed cord and emergency delivery

Get weekly ultrasounds up to and after inpatient care begins to monitor cord doppler (blood flow through the cords)

Deliver babies via c-section between 32 and 34 weeks

He explained that they had had good outcomes in the past when sticking to this care plan. I felt a semi-renewed sense of optimism after our meeting. But I remained absolutely terrified. I don’t know how I did it, but I made it through the meeting without crying. After reaching the car, the makeshift dam at the back of my eyes broke and tears flooded my face.  

Getting through the next few weeks before going inpatient was so difficult. I couldn’t feel the babies move until 20 weeks, so for 7 weeks, I had to just trust and pray that they were alright in there. At my 14 week ultrasound, their cords were entangled. The waterworks began and never really stopped. The only thing that really kept me going was my husband, family, those two beautiful babies, and God. I never knew how much I truly needed them until this. Everyone said, God won’t give you more than you can handle. I always wondered, and still do, why He trusts me to handle so much. 

During those weeks, I found myself visiting monoamniotic.org daily, sometimes even hourly. I met other women on there who were in my same boat and were experiencing the same emotions that I was. I met other moms who had two healthy babies and had so many encouraging words to share. A few of us soon branched off onto other networking sites and some amazing bonds began to form. I can’t explain what it felt like to have someone else know exactly what I was going through. These were women whom I had never met, yet I was comfortable enough to spill my feelings to. These moms became closer to me than some of my friends. It’s strange that all I was doing was looking for answers to get my boys here safe and I found so much more. I found true friendships. I found a renewed strength. I found encouraging words. I found hope.

As I prepared myself physically and mentally for an 8-10 week stay in the hospital, I became aware of so many emotions. On one hand, I was excited to go inpatient because it meant I was in good care and that much further in my pregnancy if something bad were to happen. On the other hand, I was terrified to leave my home and not be with my husband very much for 8-10 weeks. I had two baby showers prior to going inpatient. It was so hard to really celebrate and let my guard down. Everything had looked great with the babies cords, but I knew, as doctors warned me, that could change in an instant. I tried to be positive and burry my fears, but they were always in the front of my mind. Most soon-to-be-parents have a joyous time preparing the nursery and “nesting”. My experience was bittersweet. I was so scared that we would prepare our home and more importantly our lives for two little boys that may never come home. I spent countless hours crying in their nursery as I prayed for a miracle. 

At last, the day arrived to go inpatient. I cried most of the day prior to going in. I tried to stay positive as I checked in and got the first glimpse of my new four walls for the next two months. It was boring, but it was blue! At least it complimented my mood. The first day was a whirlwind. I saw a million different people and got a million different pokes. I felt confident after my first monitoring session. Hearing the boys heartbeats was wonderful. I soon found out that monitoring two babies who were only 24 weeks, would be tough, very tough. What was supposed to be a 20min session of recording their heart rates soon turned into an hour and sometimes longer. The little buggers were quit the movers, not to mention they had a lot of extra fluid to swim around in. As the nurses tried to assure me that movement was good, I knew that movement would also cause more cord entanglement. I always tried to be upbeat in front of them, but it was hard. The night time sessions always seemed to be the worse. For some reason we always had to get a bedside ultrasound to locate the boys. Waiting for that ultrasound to come was so difficult. Most nights, after my nurses left, I’d sit in the dark and just cry. I’d talk to my boys and tell them how much I loved them and how much I needed them. I told God too. 

Most days were uneventful in the hospital. It was pretty boring. I tried to start a journal of my days, but honestly I didn’t want to remember all the thoughts going through my head. I just wanted time to flash forward and to have my boys safe and sound. I didn’t want anyone to visit besides my family. I didn’t want to get sick and I didn’t want to put on a “happy” face. I talked to my momo moms the most as we tried to get through it together. My nurses became my new friends, as we spent countless hours chasing around the boys with the monitors. I had been inpatient for five weeks while three other momo moms delivered three sets of healthy twins at 32-34 weeks. This gave me so much hope and so much jealousy. The docs and I had decided on a 32 week delivery and we were counting down the days. On December 15, the day I hit 29 weeks, baby A, Austin, had a deceleration in his heart rate. He recovered from it and didn’t do it again, but to be safe, I did continuous monitoring on the labor and delivery floor for 12 hours through the night. Other than getting absolutely no sleep, all checked out and I returned to my home away from home in the morning. After that, I was at the end of my rope. I knew I needed to be in the hospital, but for lack of a better word, it sucked. I was angry. I was sad. I was scared. I felt like the days were getting longer and longer and I still had 3 weeks to go. They say “nothing lasts forever”.

On December 19, my nurse was late for my morning monitoring. It was Sunday, so my husband was there. We always went down to the cafeteria to get coffee and cookies, so I was super annoyed that my nurse hadn’t been in yet. I remember walking around my room telling Erik how annoyed and how ready I was to get out of there. I had showered and was hungry, but otherwise feeling great. My resident doc had seen me earlier and teased me about how much chocolate milk I was drinking. Finally, around 8:45, my nurse decided to hook me up to the monitors. We found baby A right away, but we couldn’t find baby B’s heartbeat. This had happened numerous times before and the nurses would try for about 30min before ordering an ultrasound. For reasons unknown to me, my nurse tried for about 5min and during that time baby A’s rate dipped into the 50’s. We thought, perhaps the machine was picking up my rate and that the baby had just moved. She grabbed my resident doc to do a bedside ultrasound. At this point I was a bit nervous, but it had happened so many times before that I was sure both boys were fine. By this late in the game, I had seen enough ultrasounds of the babies hearts to perform them myself. When we found baby b’s heart, it was beating away like crazy. It was when she moved to baby A that my heart stopped. I saw no movement. My doc was silent. I grabbed for Erik’s hand. A million thoughts raced through my brain. The scariest one was the thought that I had lost one of my babies. I didn’t even try to hold back the tears. They came and there was no stopping them. I remember saying, “Meredith, his heart isn’t beating is it?” She looked at me and said, “Very slowly. I’m getting Dr. Zuidema.” 

Within seconds, my room filled with nurses who unlocked my bed and squeezed me through the door as they shoved me into the emergency elevator. They were literally running down the halls. As soon as I reached a different room, it filled with more doctors and nurses. Dr. Zuidema did a quick ultrasound on me and looked at me. The words that came out of her mouth will be burned into my memory for eternity. “We’re having babies today”. 

I was paralyzed with fear. 

I was too scared to cry and my husband wasn’t in the OR with me yet. I reached out for a nurse. My mouth was so dry I could barely speak. Somehow I managed to tell her how terrified I was and I asked her to hold my hand. I actually thought I was losing my babies. 

As I began to go numb, I could feel the tugging of them cutting me open. My husband stepped over blood as he walked to me. A doctor yelled out, “Here’s baby A. He has hair. Does he have a name?” I remember saying, “Austin...if he’s the smaller one.” As I looked to my left I saw his tiny, hairy head. At that moment everything went numb. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t motion my arms to let someone know that something was wrong. I could hear everything around me. I heard the doctor say, “Here’s baby B.” I then heard my husband tell the anesthesiologist that something was wrong. I recall thinking I was going to suffocate because I could not take a breath. I remember thinking that Erik would be a good daddy if he had to raise them on his own. I was literally biting my tongue as a breathing tube was shoved down my throat. Luckily, I didn’t feel the pain. I later found out that my spinal went up too high and basically paralyzed my lungs temporarily. 

The next memory I have was waking up in the recovery room. As I opened my eyes, Erik said, “You’re a mommy, look at your wrist.” As I lifted my right arm I saw two bracelets reading “baby A 9:33a” and “baby B 9:34a”.

Call it joy, call it pure insanity, but I began hugging every nurse who checked on me and telling them how much I loved them. When my resident doctor showed me their cords I realized how close we were to a nightmares coming true. The boys cords were tied in a true knot and then twisted together. Dylan had it wrapped around his neck twice.

We had made it. God had answered our prayers. After six weeks of inpatient care, we delivered our mono-mono twins at 29 weeks and 4days (that’s 10.5 weeks premature). Austin weighed 2lbs 8oz and Dylan weighed 2lb 14oz. They were the tiniest little miracles I’d ever laid eyes on. 

I was wrong when I’d thought my six weeks of inpatient care was the hardest part. Having our babies in the NICU was excruciating. Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Just as the nurses who took care of me became my friends, so did the nurses who looked after our boys. It was the wildest rollercoaster I’d ever ridden. So many highs and so many lows, then finally things leveled out. As we inched closer and closer to their original due date, the waiting got harder. It seemed like the boys would start preschool in there. But, as they say “nothing lasts forever”.

After 61 days in the NICU, Dylan came home. Four days later, Austin joined him.

I can never thank the nurses enough who took care of me and my boys. I can never thank the doctors who acted so fast and within 15 minutes delivered my boys when they were in trouble. I will never know why my nurse that morning was late, but I thank God she was and that she caught the problem before it turned fatal. The thought that had she been on time and the cords weren’t compressed, I wouldn’t have been monitored for another 6 hours, sends chills down my spine. I can only thank God for placing all of the cards in order and for giving me my two, precious, miracle baby boys.

To all expecting MOMO moms: You can do it and you will be strong. It’s alright to cry and we are here for you. Put all of your faith in God and His plan.

Ashley Prins

Proud mommy to my 29 weekers, Dylan and Austin