#30DaysofBrave - Hannah

"Most first date conversations include small talk or conversations about hobbies, jobs, or friends. My husband and I talked about how much we both wanted kids on our first date. We were both very passionate about having kids. After we were married, I received news that I might not be able to have children. For one month I waited to get a second opinion. During that month I imagined it all. Having a natural birth, my parents faces when they met my children at the hospital, bringing a tiny bundle of joy to our home. We promised ourselves that if I got good news we would start trying to have a child immediately. Thankfully the news was good and we started climbing the mountain to parenthood. Little did I know how little I would be in control of the climb.

1 year passed and we weren’t pregnant. We scheduled an appointment with a fertility specialist. During that time I became pregnant. Everything I daydreamed about was coming true. Seeing my parents and siblings faces light up when we broke the news was a dream. Until one day I woke up and needed to go to the emergency room. On the way there we called my OBGYN who bluntly reminded me that I could go to the emergency room if I wanted but if something was wrong they wouldn’t be able to do anything because I wasn’t far enough along. I still went to the hospital, hopeful that my symptom would be nothing. It wasn’t nothing though, we lost our first child. 2 weeks later the world shut down while my life felt like it was falling apart. I was stuck inside the house with my grief. I tried to hold onto hope as I started fertility appointments and fertility testing. I had a wonderfully supportive doctor and felt hopeful until I received the diagnosis that I wouldn’t be able to have kids. I was crushed. The one core value that my husband and I shared, family, was something I was never going to be able to give us. Thankfully, the feeling didn’t last long, as 2 weeks after my diagnosis I became pregnant on my own, our miracle.

My fertility doctor wanted to keep a close eye on me and check my HCG levels regularly to make sure it was a viable pregnancy. My first ultrasound was early on, I believe 6 weeks. They found twins, identical twins! Of course the doctors needed to let me know identical twin pregnancies can be high risk. My due date, well it was the exact day we lost our first child. We took that as our sign from God that this pregnancy was meant to be. We were this magical mixture of excited and terrified. So there I was, carrying a high risk pregnancy during the beginning of a pandemic. My MFM felt it would be best if I worked from home and avoided going in public as much as possible. While you would think the time stuck in the house would be isolating, it was quite magical and we did our best to make the most of it. I spent a lot of time with my husband and I was in a constant state of daydreaming about what life would be life with my newborns, holding them in my arms after having them. My faith was put to the test towards the end of my first trimester when we found out I had placenta previa. My high risk pregnancy had become even more high risk but I held onto hope.

The goal became reaching 26 weeks. My mindset stayed positive, as I was convinced making it longer was something I had control over. You see the Hannah before having kids thought she had control, she wasn’t used to what losing control was like. Little did she know having control taken from her would be one of the most empowering experiences of her life. Once I received the placenta previa diagnosis, I chose to not research about it. I asked the doctor to only tell me what I can do to help the condition and requested to not hear any news about the condition unless it was life threatening to the babies and a decision needed to be made. While this decision might not be right for everyone, I knew my anxiety would be better if I knew less and I’m glad I did. I’m a planner and I didn’t buy any preemie clothes because I was so confident I was making it past 26 weeks.

When I was 25 weeks, Thanksgiving was approaching. I woke up to a dream that I wet the bed to realize I was hemorrhaging for the first time. My husband rushed me to the hospital. Memories of being rushed to the hospital during my miscarriage resurfaced. I was terrified. This amazingly strong and positive persona I had built up came crashing down. I was admitted to the hospital to stay so they could try and get the hemorrhaging to stop. If it stopped I would be allowed to go home. Thankfully it stopped. I spent Thanksgiving and a few days in the hospital but went home at 26 weeks. I drank more water and took it easy when I returned home. I ate as much food as I could to try and help my little twins grow, again…thinking I had control. Weeks passed and I grew to enjoy my pregnancy again. The twins must get excited around the holidays because by the time Christmas rolled around I was in the hospital again, for my second hemorrhage. This trip to the hospital was less scary. I knew what to expect. I would spend a few days in the hospital until it stopped and then go home.

I was 31 weeks, the hemorrhaging didn’t stop. I’m fact one night, in the middle of the night, I took myself to the bathroom and realized I lost too much blood. My MFM was called immediately and the an emergency c section was about to happen. I called my parents and let them know their first grand babies wanted to meet them early, not realizing it would be months before they would ever see them face to face.
The details of my c section and are blur, and something I’m still working through with my therapist. My daughters were born within the same minute in a room of over 20 medical professionals. I remember the joy I felt seeing my first daughter and thank God that in the moment I didn’t realize I never got to see my second daughter, as she was instantly intubated and rushed to the NICU. It was hours before we could see our girls, and I still don’t remember the first time I saw them in the NICU. Maybe I will one day, maybe I won’t.

What I will remember is how excited and terrified I was to go to the NICU and see my girls, how proud the nurses on the labor and delivery floor were of me for staying so positive, how kind the NICU nurses were, how scared the other families looked too, how peaceful many of the babies were, finally holding my babies after a week, how hard it was that our families had to meet them through pictures as visitors weren’t allowed during Covid, and how freaking strong my warriors were. My daughters fought so hard to get off intubation and bubble c pap. They were 3 lbs when they were born.

Their first day of life the doctors wanted to give them donor milk. While I never planned on breastfeeding, it was the one thing I felt I had control of during this uncontrollable time and was the right decision for me. I made it my mission to give them my milk. I started exclusive pumping around the clock and to my surprise I had an oversupply.

The girls were on track for a short NICU stay until the doctors tried removing caffeine. My girls love caffeine. Without it they were having Brady spells non stop. Thankfully after 2 months they were able to come home. We were patient as we taught them to drink. They ate well and grew quickly. As they started to fall behind on milestones we were able to get them help and therapies. We’ve met some amazing professionals on this journey and have learned so much. By the time their first birthday came around they were walking. I continued providing them with breastmilk until they were 19 months old. Now they are almost 2 and climbing is their favorite word, in fact we dedicated a whole room of the house to it. They are our broken iPods singing 24/7 and jumping from one song to the next on constant repeat. They are happy and my daily reminder to never give up hope. After the NICU I learned that controlled chaos (well attempted control) is my new normal and we are rocking it (most days).

They are adventurous, brave, and caring. Being a twin parent is hard. Being a NICU parent is hard. Parenting is hard. The tragedies and hardships we go through can make us appreciate even the worst days, because they are days we get to have with our children. What I hope others learn from our story is that if you can hold onto the tiniest bit of hope, bravery will find you. I had so much appreciation for a very traumatic pregnancy because I was told I would never get to be pregnant. Just find one thing to be thankful for and you can get through any season. The second lesson here is you have to trust timing. If we wouldn’t have lost our first child, we never would have had our two girls. If the girls weren’t early, I don’t know if I ever would have learned how to be so brave. The timing of Josie and Ellie was right. To my fellow NICU parents, be proud of who you’ve become. Ask for help if you need it, therapy can work wonders. Never forget, “Faith as small as a mustard seed can move mountains” Matthew 17:20."