I was warned that the big light above our heads could act like a mirror and that we might not want to look at it.
Of course, there's only one reaction to that...
It's not clear like a mirror though, there are ridged circles decreasing in size toward the centre and all you really see is colour as if in a kaleidescope, the blue of the scrubs, the green of the surgical sheets, flashes of silver and yes, the red and purple of blood, but it's a mixed and mingled pattern, not a clear impression.
J had his camera and I asked him to take a photo but his view and mine were not the same - either that or devoid of drugs it just doesn't look the same at all!
I heard the pop of the first membrane sac, the suction as the fluid was drained and then the first baby was drawn out, breech, entering the world bottom first and squealing.
They showed him to me above the screen and then Teresa, one of the midwives carried him to a resusitaire to be checked and wrapped.
I heard the second sac suctioned, over the screams of twin one. Then I heard the consultant say "Oh that's a foot, and here's the other!"
Twin two entered the world feet first and sooo angry. It must be an even more surreal experience for the babies, there's no build up at all, one minute they are happily floating around in a very small, warm, mostly dark, muffled place and the next they are dragged into the bright light of an operating theatre, with it's noise and bustle and the space to move and stretch and be terrified of. Twin two was not happy about it, not one little bit and was determined we should know all about it!
He was lifted over the drapes, and then again hurried off by a midwife - Sorcha - who gave him his first cuddle and attached 2 clips to his cord, for twin two, so that there could be no confusion.
J was told he could go to see the babies, and take pictures.
The consultant confirmed that we still wanted him to go ahead and tie my tubes, and while he removed the placentas (which the midwife confirmed were intact), did that and sewed me back up J brought the twins over to see me.
It seemed to take a surprisingly short time, and then we were wheeled back out into recovery.
We started skin to skin there, and after about half an hour, maybe more, we were wheeled back up to the maternity ward.
Cuddled under my blankets with me were one little read-headed boy, and his white-blond twin, and by now, or soon after, they were Tobias and Alexander.
Toby and Alex, the latest two members of our family.
Back on the ward they were weighed and measured.
Toby tipped the scales at 6lbs 7 and Alex at 6 lbs. good weights for 37 week babies, even if there hadn't been two of them.
I'll write more about the first hours and days, (and what happened next) later on...
Sunday 1 April 2012
The Main Event... (Part One)
There's something very strange about Elective Caesarian, you get up knowing that by the end of today there will be a baby in your arms, but you have no contractions, no twinges, just this knowledge.
I was nil by mouth from ten the night before, and getting up and getting the boys dressed and breakfasted while feeling hungry and nervous was a bit wobbly.
Once they were ready and waiting for their lift to school J, Ben and I climbed into the car and drove to the hospital. We'd decided to take Ben along at this point because I needed to be at the hospital for 8am, but the section was unlikely to take pace until about 11.30 so the plan was that Ben would take me to the hospital, and leave me there, (he's much happier to leave me than to be left behind). J would drive him home, spend a bit of time with him and then come back in time for surgery.
We stopped in the car park at the hospital and J took a couple of final "bump shots"of me and the bump and Ben.
The we walked up to the ward. I was checked in, and the blood pressure tests etc started. Almost immediately we were told it was more likely to be 10.30 when I was taken to theatre, as there had been a couple of cancellations from the list.
J set off to take Ben home and come straight back. Meanwhile I changed into a gown, confirmed I had taken the Ranitidine the night before and that morning.
I was provided with surgical stockings, that were to be the bane of my life for the next few days, and shaved along and just below the bikini line.
J came back and we waited... They gave him a form to sign which told him what he was and wasn't allowed to do in theatre - basically, sit where you are told until told you can move!
Then they said they were nearly ready for me and took J off to change into scrubs.
While he was gone they came to take me down, I was given something else to take - another antacid I think - and then the bed and I were wheeled down to theatre.
There's a lot of checking of name labels and notes and so on, at this point, checking that they have the right person.
And then they transfer you to a trolley, and wheel you into anaesthetics.
I'd met the anaesthetist before and been talked through the process but again it's quite surreal.
There's a commonly held idea that all labouring women love their anaesthetists, that they are adored because they come bearing pain relief. But when you aren't actually in labour and have no pain, they simply inflict it.
I had 2 cannulas sited, one in each inner arm. Then the spinal. If you're not in labour and desperate for it there's no denying this is uncomfortable at best.
Anyway it was in. They lay me back down and it took effect.
They gave me an oxygen mask and there were a few moments' peace.
Then came the worst bit.
They wheeled me into the theatre and transferred me to the operating table/ bed. My blood pressure plummeted, I think this is quite normal, but I hadn't expected it. The room spun, I felt sick, I dragged the mask off, my whole body went into panic mode.
If I could have articulated the words "I can't do this, put me under" I would have done so.
Quickly the anaesthetist gave me something to bring my pressure back up and the world came back into focus, J joined me, I could do this after all.
"Are you ready to meet your babies?" asked the consultant.
J took my hand, "Yes" we said together....
I was nil by mouth from ten the night before, and getting up and getting the boys dressed and breakfasted while feeling hungry and nervous was a bit wobbly.
Once they were ready and waiting for their lift to school J, Ben and I climbed into the car and drove to the hospital. We'd decided to take Ben along at this point because I needed to be at the hospital for 8am, but the section was unlikely to take pace until about 11.30 so the plan was that Ben would take me to the hospital, and leave me there, (he's much happier to leave me than to be left behind). J would drive him home, spend a bit of time with him and then come back in time for surgery.
We stopped in the car park at the hospital and J took a couple of final "bump shots"of me and the bump and Ben.
The we walked up to the ward. I was checked in, and the blood pressure tests etc started. Almost immediately we were told it was more likely to be 10.30 when I was taken to theatre, as there had been a couple of cancellations from the list.
J set off to take Ben home and come straight back. Meanwhile I changed into a gown, confirmed I had taken the Ranitidine the night before and that morning.
I was provided with surgical stockings, that were to be the bane of my life for the next few days, and shaved along and just below the bikini line.
J came back and we waited... They gave him a form to sign which told him what he was and wasn't allowed to do in theatre - basically, sit where you are told until told you can move!
Then they said they were nearly ready for me and took J off to change into scrubs.
While he was gone they came to take me down, I was given something else to take - another antacid I think - and then the bed and I were wheeled down to theatre.
There's a lot of checking of name labels and notes and so on, at this point, checking that they have the right person.
And then they transfer you to a trolley, and wheel you into anaesthetics.
I'd met the anaesthetist before and been talked through the process but again it's quite surreal.
There's a commonly held idea that all labouring women love their anaesthetists, that they are adored because they come bearing pain relief. But when you aren't actually in labour and have no pain, they simply inflict it.
I had 2 cannulas sited, one in each inner arm. Then the spinal. If you're not in labour and desperate for it there's no denying this is uncomfortable at best.
Anyway it was in. They lay me back down and it took effect.
They gave me an oxygen mask and there were a few moments' peace.
Then came the worst bit.
They wheeled me into the theatre and transferred me to the operating table/ bed. My blood pressure plummeted, I think this is quite normal, but I hadn't expected it. The room spun, I felt sick, I dragged the mask off, my whole body went into panic mode.
If I could have articulated the words "I can't do this, put me under" I would have done so.
Quickly the anaesthetist gave me something to bring my pressure back up and the world came back into focus, J joined me, I could do this after all.
"Are you ready to meet your babies?" asked the consultant.
J took my hand, "Yes" we said together....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)