Thursday morning, 4am: We drag ourselves out of bed and get ready to get into the hospital by 5:30. This is probably the worst morning Jenn has had yet; she did not sleep at all during the night, she is now (officially) 38 weeks pregnant with twins, she's in pretty much constant pain. It's time to do this already.
We get there, get checked in, fill out a little paperwork, and they take us to a room. Nurses show up and want to get the dreaded IV started. The nurses fail, and eventually one of the doctors performing the c-section shows up and gets it in. Took 4 tries this time I believe, which was not as bad as the horrible 7 tries on the dehydration visit, but still not fun.
We wait around for a little bit as nurses and doctors continue to do their thing, and eventually a nurse tells me to get into a full-body painter-suit thing they have brought, complete with surgical mask as well. The mask is what makes it kind of start sinking in, OK this surgery is Serious Business. The painters suit is a bit snug around my middle, so a nurse goes and gets me a pair of scrubs, which work much better. At some point I remember saying to a nurse "OK so we're doing this then?" as they are gathering us up, and off we go.
The rest is sort of a blur honestly. Someone tells me to get my camera. We walk to the operating room, where even more doctors and nurses are waiting. They have 2 doctors and a med student doing the procedure, 2 docs handling the drugs, probably 2 or 3 nurses assisting the docs, and two nurses (and a couple nursing students) standing by waiting to take care of babies. Pretty crowded room to say the least, I kind of just try to stay out of the way of everyone until someone eventually tells me where to sit (by Jenn's head).
They get the epidural in, a procedure that was a bit scary for her but overall not bad, get her rolled over and lied down on the operating table. At some point our OB appears. Jenn's still nervous but is doing great, as one of the docs in charge of drugs is doing a fine job of keeping her calm, as I sit there stupified by all the activity around me. A cloth screen goes up between Jenn and her belly, and it's clear that now it begins.
As they're first starting I stay seated on a stool by Jenn's head, but eventually my curiosity gets the better of me and I stand up to try and see. I didn't exactly have a med students view or anything, but I must say it was worth it to see them literally brace themselves to yank this baby out of her, and to experience the utter astonishment that something so large could have come out of her, while still knowing there was another one still to go. Kayla, was first, 6lbs 12 oz, looking big enough to me that had she opened her eyes and asked me how the stock market was doing, I would not have been more shocked. Someone reminds me that maybe I brought that camera for a reason, so I go over to the clean-off station or whatever and take a couple shots. Next comes Megan, 5lbs 12oz, still possessing a mass that made me look around for the Tardis. Both girls test out their lungs, I don't see any nurses rushing them anywhere or making hushed whispers to doctors, they don't possess horns or tails, it all looks good and I relax a bit.
They sew Jenn up, and wheel us to the recovery room we started out in. Babies are given a quick bath, as nurses and doctors continue to fuss over them for quite some time. Eventually we realize it's pushing 9:30, and sitting in the waiting room since 7:30 are my mother, father, Jenn's mom and sister. So I go fetch them, much to their relief.
After about another hour in recovery, we're shuffled off to our "regular" room, where we spend the next 4 days. Pretty much what you would expect: lots of visitors, lots of picture taking, lots of McDonalds, uncomfortable hospital beds, etc. I must at this point acknowledge the excellent nurses we had throughout at Wesley Medical Center in Wichita, KS, 5th floor post-pardum. Always available, quick to provide, patient, interested, and excited for us. Maybe I banked some good medical karma dealing with technologically challenged doctors and med students for the past 8 years. A+++, would deliver there again.
Actually, if I did have good medical karma, it surely went towards the girls. Aside from a slight concern about jaundice (which has since moved from "slight concern" to "pfft, whatever"), they haven't experienced problem one. Considering all the risk factors we were facing with this pregnancy, all the things that could have gone wrong before, during, and after, it seems like we've hit the lottery. Twins of a birth weight that make doctors and nurses gasp, with no apparent diseases, complications, abnormalities, or problems to speak of. It's been a long, hard road, but the end result has been as close to perfection as one could ever hope to experience.
Has it sunk in yet? It did a little when we were leaving, and I had to get one of the girls strapped into her carseat before driving around to pick up Jenn. It does a little every time one of them is lying on my chest and lifts her head up in a (so far) vain attempt to assess their surroundings. It did a little just now as I had to get up 5 times writing that last sentence to replace spit out pacifiers. Does it ever really "sink in" though? Just when I get this "helpless eating/sleeping/pooping machine" part down, they'll be crawling and walking. Just when I learn not to leave my Leatherman on the coffee table, they'll be telling me they don't want to eat their peas. Just when I figure out the power of reverse psychology, they'll be doing math homework that I can't remember how to do. Just when I get a copy of Calculus for Dummies, I'll be worrying about why my future son-in-laws dumbass friends can't get in for a simple tux fitting.
We get there, get checked in, fill out a little paperwork, and they take us to a room. Nurses show up and want to get the dreaded IV started. The nurses fail, and eventually one of the doctors performing the c-section shows up and gets it in. Took 4 tries this time I believe, which was not as bad as the horrible 7 tries on the dehydration visit, but still not fun.
We wait around for a little bit as nurses and doctors continue to do their thing, and eventually a nurse tells me to get into a full-body painter-suit thing they have brought, complete with surgical mask as well. The mask is what makes it kind of start sinking in, OK this surgery is Serious Business. The painters suit is a bit snug around my middle, so a nurse goes and gets me a pair of scrubs, which work much better. At some point I remember saying to a nurse "OK so we're doing this then?" as they are gathering us up, and off we go.
The rest is sort of a blur honestly. Someone tells me to get my camera. We walk to the operating room, where even more doctors and nurses are waiting. They have 2 doctors and a med student doing the procedure, 2 docs handling the drugs, probably 2 or 3 nurses assisting the docs, and two nurses (and a couple nursing students) standing by waiting to take care of babies. Pretty crowded room to say the least, I kind of just try to stay out of the way of everyone until someone eventually tells me where to sit (by Jenn's head).
They get the epidural in, a procedure that was a bit scary for her but overall not bad, get her rolled over and lied down on the operating table. At some point our OB appears. Jenn's still nervous but is doing great, as one of the docs in charge of drugs is doing a fine job of keeping her calm, as I sit there stupified by all the activity around me. A cloth screen goes up between Jenn and her belly, and it's clear that now it begins.
As they're first starting I stay seated on a stool by Jenn's head, but eventually my curiosity gets the better of me and I stand up to try and see. I didn't exactly have a med students view or anything, but I must say it was worth it to see them literally brace themselves to yank this baby out of her, and to experience the utter astonishment that something so large could have come out of her, while still knowing there was another one still to go. Kayla, was first, 6lbs 12 oz, looking big enough to me that had she opened her eyes and asked me how the stock market was doing, I would not have been more shocked. Someone reminds me that maybe I brought that camera for a reason, so I go over to the clean-off station or whatever and take a couple shots. Next comes Megan, 5lbs 12oz, still possessing a mass that made me look around for the Tardis. Both girls test out their lungs, I don't see any nurses rushing them anywhere or making hushed whispers to doctors, they don't possess horns or tails, it all looks good and I relax a bit.
They sew Jenn up, and wheel us to the recovery room we started out in. Babies are given a quick bath, as nurses and doctors continue to fuss over them for quite some time. Eventually we realize it's pushing 9:30, and sitting in the waiting room since 7:30 are my mother, father, Jenn's mom and sister. So I go fetch them, much to their relief.
After about another hour in recovery, we're shuffled off to our "regular" room, where we spend the next 4 days. Pretty much what you would expect: lots of visitors, lots of picture taking, lots of McDonalds, uncomfortable hospital beds, etc. I must at this point acknowledge the excellent nurses we had throughout at Wesley Medical Center in Wichita, KS, 5th floor post-pardum. Always available, quick to provide, patient, interested, and excited for us. Maybe I banked some good medical karma dealing with technologically challenged doctors and med students for the past 8 years. A+++, would deliver there again.
Actually, if I did have good medical karma, it surely went towards the girls. Aside from a slight concern about jaundice (which has since moved from "slight concern" to "pfft, whatever"), they haven't experienced problem one. Considering all the risk factors we were facing with this pregnancy, all the things that could have gone wrong before, during, and after, it seems like we've hit the lottery. Twins of a birth weight that make doctors and nurses gasp, with no apparent diseases, complications, abnormalities, or problems to speak of. It's been a long, hard road, but the end result has been as close to perfection as one could ever hope to experience.
Has it sunk in yet? It did a little when we were leaving, and I had to get one of the girls strapped into her carseat before driving around to pick up Jenn. It does a little every time one of them is lying on my chest and lifts her head up in a (so far) vain attempt to assess their surroundings. It did a little just now as I had to get up 5 times writing that last sentence to replace spit out pacifiers. Does it ever really "sink in" though? Just when I get this "helpless eating/sleeping/pooping machine" part down, they'll be crawling and walking. Just when I learn not to leave my Leatherman on the coffee table, they'll be telling me they don't want to eat their peas. Just when I figure out the power of reverse psychology, they'll be doing math homework that I can't remember how to do. Just when I get a copy of Calculus for Dummies, I'll be worrying about why my future son-in-laws dumbass friends can't get in for a simple tux fitting.
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