For my husband and I, our first attempts at having a baby resulted in very early miscarriages. Two occured before I even knew I was pregnant.  After some testing, we agreed to try one round of a small dose of medication to help ensure a successful pregnancy.  For us, that one week was successful.  Once I made it past that first three months, I began to accept that we really would become parents at last.  Just before my pregnancy midway point, I began to grow quicker than expected, so the doctor ordered an ultrasound to check for the possibility of twins.  In the early 1980’s, heartbeats were not as easy to pick up as they are now, so a second heartbeat had not been heard at any appointment.  Once we knew the possibility of a set of twins, I began to worry it would be more!  The doctor insisted that my very small dose of medication rarely resulted even in twins, so we should stop worrying.  The day of the ultrasound he found two babies.  In the photographs we were given we could see them lying head to head in the womb.  Those tiny little arms and legs were amazing to see.  Ultrasound photos were still a fairly new item to receive at that point. 

For the next 7 weeks, things progressed as expected.  I was working as a receptionist at a local law firm and had already decided that with two babies to care for, I would need to resign my job once they were born.  At my 27 week appointment, I was found to have elevated blood pressure (after years of having extremely low normal pressure) and severe swelling in my legs and feet.  My doctor felt I needed to change to working part time hours.  I was able to go ahead and begin doing so the next day, working until Noon.   I headed home and put my feet up the rest of the day. The next morning I woke up early to see signs that something was wrong.  After a call to my doctor, I was told to meet him at his office as soon as it opened.  My husband and I headed there with a good deal of anxiety.  I felt fine, but the slight bleeding was a concern.  Once my doctor checked things out, it was evident I was in labor.   Evident to him at least.  I felt no contractions, even though they were about six minutes apart.   He allowed us to wait in his office while he called a few Level III Neonatal hospitals to see if they had room for 13 weeks premature twins.  Fortunately for us, his first preference of hospital and doctor was available to accept us.  So we were sent off to midtown Atlanta for check in.  No cell phones existed yet at this time, so we used the doctor’s phone to make two calls – my mother and my husband’s parents. 

On the drive to Atlanta, I kept my hands on my belly and could tell when the contractions caused my stomach to tighten, but I still felt no pain at all.  By the time we arrived at the ER for a quick check in, I was terrified.  They were expecting us, so we were quickly escorted up to labor and delivery and the poking, prodding, testing and questions began.  It took about ten pokes to get an IV started.  They finally got one into the back of my right hand.  Not comfortable at all! It made signing my name over and over very painful.  Belts were attached to pick up the contractions and the heartbeats of the babies.  Both heartbeats stayed strong.  This was the first time I had heard them myself.  Tests were run on my blood and urine samples and a constant check was kept on my elevating blood pressure.  Around lunch time the well known ob/gyn came in to update us on how things were looking.  Labor was trying to progress and I was in the early stages of preeclampsia.  Medication was administered to try and stop (or at least slow down) the contractions and lower my blood pressure.   

As the day progressed, we met the neonatologist that took care of the babies in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) as well as a few of the nurses.  It turned out that one of the nurses was the sister of one of the lawyers in the firm where I worked. He placed a call to her and she spoke with pretty much all the ladies in the firm to assure them they would take the very best care of me and the babies.  One ultrasound was done by the hospital ultrasound tech.  The babies looked well and at the expected  stage for 27 weeks along in gestation.  That evening, once his office hours were completed, the doctor came in and did another ultrasound himself.  He said the babies were moving around so much he saw legs everywhere.  Baby “A” was in place to arrive first and we were informed Baby “B” was a boy – which we didn’t want to know.  But the doctor let us quickly know that it was important for the NICU staff to know what to expect.  We learned why in the coming weeks.  

By late evening it was becoming clear that labor was not very likely to be stopped and that our babies would arrive much too early to be the anticipated newborns we hoped for. They would be extremely small and need extensive care in the NICU.  Word had spread among coworkers, family and our church and we knew many, many prayers were being said for the safe arrival of the babies and for my health to improve.  We learned that with preeclampsia the only real “cure” was to deliver the babies.  Since the first medication did nothing to slow labor or lower my blood pressure, another type was administered with the awful side effect of making my entire body feel as if it was on fire.  It was a long and uncomfortable night.  My mom, sisters and a close friend had arrived and stayed in a nearby hotel.  My husband’s family stayed until late in the night before returning home to rest before the next morning.  Our unexpected adventure was putting a damper on the next day’s plans – you see, the next day was Thanksgiving.  

By 8:00 am Thanksgiving morning, it was decided that delivery was going to happen the morning.  Due to preeclampsia, a c-section was the plan. Preparations were made in the NICU and enough staff was called in to ensure both babies had a team to take care of them as soon as they arrived.  We were blessed beyond measure to have both the well known and highly respected ob/gyn and neonatologist on duty together for the holiday.  Several residents were on hand to assist with anesthesia, delivery and care of the babies along with the nurses from the NICU.  I was terrified to have an epidural, but the medical team assured me I would be fine and it was the best way to deliver the babies safely. As they began preparing me for the epidural, they told my husband he was allowed to be in the operating room with me.  Shortly after 10 AM that Thanksgiving morning, I was wheeled into the operating room while he was getting into sterile scrubs.  

Since a screen was placed just in front of my face, my only view was of the anesthesiologist at my head and my husband at my right side.  It was cold, as it is in any operating room.  Everyone got into place as the doctor began making the incisions.  When he pulled the first baby out, I remember hearing him say “baby A is a girl, 10:48”, immediately followed by some tugging then “baby B is a boy as predicted, 10:49.”  I lay there wondering what on earth those numbers meant.  There was no way they had been weighed and since this was my first birthing experience, I was unaware that it was their time of birth.  Once both babies were being tended to by their respective NICU teams, the doctor did the usual clean up of the uterus after a c-section and found a small mass near my rib cage area and told the team he had found a small fibroid cyst.  He instructed the anesthesiologist to administer something to allow me to sleep while he removed the tumor.  A very brief moment passed, then the doctor yelled the ten words that will forever remain fresh in my mind. 

“Stop! This is a foot! We have a third baby!”  

One group flocked back to my body, while one person got on the phone to request a third Isolette.  The anesthesiologist was told  NOT to push any sleep inducing drugs, and a flurry of activity took place.  The doctor reached up into my rib cage area and pulled out the third baby saying “Baby C is a girl, 10:52.”  The most amazing thing to many of the nurses present that morning was when I turned to my husband and quickly told him her name.  You see, we had gone over several pairs of names for our expected twins.  One set for two girls, one set for two boys, and a set for a boy and girl pair.  The name I told him was not our second girl name, just one we had discussed at one point.  While they waited on a third isolette to arrive from the NICU, my husband was allowed to go with Baby A and Baby C from the OR to the NICU. Baby B, our little boy, was a bit stronger and larger (he is the only one I could hear cry a tiny bit) so he waited for the extra Isolette to arrive while the team worked with him.  Then my husband was able to go do the one thing I wish I had been able to witness. He went to the waiting room to tell the large family group present that I had just given birth to triplets!  

Once the babies arrived in the NICU, weights were taken, a third tiny bracelet was made for Baby C.  Since the NICU had prepared for twins, we had very unique bracelets.  They said Twin A, Twin B and Twin C.  I was in quite a state of shock in addition to battling effects of the preeclampsia and lingering numbness from the epidural for several hours.  People were in and out of my hospital room.  I remember that every time someone came in the room, I repeated over and over, “I had three babies!”.  In the early 1980’s, a 27 week gestation baby was pretty much the earliest of premature baby to survive.  Their birth weights were extremely low since there were three of them.  They were in birth order: 720 grams (1 lb 9.4 oz), 830 grams (1 lb 13.3 oz), and 700 grams (1 lb 8.6 oz).  Combined they weighed 4 lbs 15 oz, which for 27 weeks would have been a large baby, especially for my short 5 foot body.  

Family members from near and far visited that weekend while I adjusted to all the new acronyms of medical terms preemies could have.  That Saturday, my Granny and Great Aunt were driven up from the family farm to visit by my good friend and relative.  After visiting with me for a bit, they went down to the one window that looked into the nursery where my precious tiny babies were.  Twin A and Twin C were on either side of the window, but Twin B was on the far side of the room.  As they were peering into the window, one of the nurses came out and asked one simple question; “Are you grandmothers?”  Since she didn’t specify whose grandmother they had to be, both answered yes!  Oh, the laughter we shared over my great aunt telling that story.  Since they both said they were grandmothers, they were invited in to scrub up, gown up, and then they were allowed into the NICU to get a closer look at all three babies.  I was so glad that they both were allowed in to see them.  My great aunt was like another grandmother to me, and as she reminded me over the years, she never lied.  She was a grandmother, just not to those precious tiny babies.  

I was discharged home the following Monday, and was allowed to hold Twin A for a few minutes before we left.  She was the strongest at the time and was breathing room air (which I was very confused about) through the ventilator.  All I remember is those big eyes looking up at me with tubes and wires along with the blanket covering her tiny little body and head.  Even with all those obstacles in our way, she knew my voice and knew her momma had her.  Leaving the hospital without my babies was tough.  We were escorted down a staff elevator to exit through the ER – the same doors I had arrived through the Wednesday before – so that I would not have to see other moms and babies leaving together.  We knew as we left for home, that the multitude of prayers being offered to God on their behalf was plentiful.  We knew that we would only get through the days and weeks to come because of the love, comfort, and prayers of those we loved and the many others our loved ones had asked to pray for our little family.  God’s grace, mercy, and love were our source through the many long days and nights that followed the birth of our tiny Thanksgiving blessings.

Next week, details about each baby and their experiences in the NICU will be shared.  It will get lengthy, as this post did.  It will be full of emotion.  It will be full of tears.  It will be full of joy.  It will be full of miracles.  It will be full of life. Abundant life! 

“They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.” Psalm 145:7