Birth Trauma, The NICU & Finding my community.

3 days, 20 hours & 11 minutes - the time between birth and my first time meeting our twins.

When I first found out I was having twins, I pictured a perfect delivery with two tiny babies snuggled on my chest and 2 days later, we would go home as a family of 5. 

But on August 27, those plans quickly changed to discussions around transporting to a larger hospital, Critical Care Teams, an emergency c-section and so much more. The birth plan went out the window and I was left clinging to the thoughts that everything would be okay. 

After walking into the hospital that evening, my life became a blur. We were told both babies were breech and a c-section was necessary. They were working to transport me to a larger hospital so I could be close to the twins assuming they needed NICU time. After about 2 hours, my body went into active labor and I was 4cm dilated. Transporting was no longer an option and they began prepping the OR for my delivery. I remember being super nauseous and cold; I remember hearing faint cries and they were quickly taken to the nursery. In a room full of close to 20 medical professionals, I felt alone. I was then taken into my recovery room to only wonder how the twins were doing. After a short time, a stretcher with an incubator and a tiny 4 pound baby was wheeled in by a Critical Care Team. I was told they were being transferred to a level 4 NICU hospital about 20 miles away. I stuck my finger into a small door, said hi and bye and away they went. 5 minutes later, another stretcher with an incubator and a tiny 4 pound baby was wheeled in, I gave another hi and bye and watched them leave. The plan was for me to be transferred to the same hospital the twins were at until my discharge date. Unfortunately, my body had other plans. 

Less than 24 hours later, I was being wheeled into the OR yet again for an exploratory surgery due to major internal bleeding. 2 hours later, I was told I had a partial hysterectomy that included the removal of my uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes and 1 ovary. I recovered in the ICU for another 30 hours, receiving 9 blood transfusions and multiple bags of platelets. I was finally cleared and released after nearly 4 days in the hospital. 

The twins spent 36 days in the NICU including Step Down. For a week, I was brought into their room in a wheelchair with a JP drain hanging from my pocket. While I was trying to recover from 2 major surgeries, pump 8 times a day to build a supply for twins and get rides to the hospital every day, I was also trying to be a mom to my 3 year old daughter. 

Mental health was not something anyone talked to me about besides the casual “how are you feeling”. After answering the standard survey given before discharge, it’s clear I was a prime candidate for postpartum depression. The answer - prescribe me Zoloft and send me on my way. I was told it would help me process my journey and keep me “stable” emotionally. I ended my Zoloft prescription 6 months later due to many different side effects. 

It wasn’t until my twins first birthday that I began to struggle. I felt anger towards the doctors, sadness for missing out on the golden hour, breastfeeding and time with my newborns. I found Project NICU while scrolling Instagram one night and knew I needed to get involved. I wanted to help current NICU families and thank those nurses who cared for our babies day in and day out for 36 days. What I didn’t realize was that this community would give me much more than a picture of our care package drop. It gave me a space to talk to those who had similar yet different journeys, a space to process what happened to us and lean on others for support. I also learned I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I ever thought I could be and for that, I’m thankful.