Can my twin feel how I keep moving

FURTHER INFORMATION

 

I have only fragmentary memories of the birth of my twins, but these are still very much alive. Why that's so, I do not know. But I know that I want to keep these memories for a long time.

 

It all started a few months earlier anyway ... If you are pregnant with twins, you will quickly find out that not every hospital offers vaginal deliveries; most of the time, a caesarean section is customary. I knew from the start that the likelihood of a caesarean section was higher than a singleton, and it was just as clear to me that if everything was all right, I wanted a vaginal delivery. Since I am a very pragmatic person and felt very nauseous during the first 14 weeks of pregnancy, I didn't feel like looking at a number of hospitals, and the decision to go to St. Josef Hospital was made quickly.


I made the decision for my midwife just as quickly: She seemed to know what she was talking about, she appeared reasonable and clear in her statements; Things that are important to me, so why look at more than one (especially if every walk was an ordeal with this nausea)?

 

There are women who find pregnancy to be wonderfuln; I wasn't one of them. I found it at times exciting, at times exhausting, at times joyfully calm and at times annoying.


After the period of nausea was finally over, a time began when I was fine, but this time did not last too long as I had to lie down from the 27th week of pregnancy due to premature labor; thus, including two inpatient hospital stays, I am very much situated. I think I have never followed an instruction so much in my life before. My memories of that time are, on the one hand, fear and doubt that something would happen to the boys, and on the other hand, a lot of calm and the strong feeling of doing everything for these children. And I got a lot of unnecessary tips and advice ("Enjoy the time!", "If it does turn out to be a caesarean section, your husband is really the poor man because you are not allowed to lift anything and he has to do more" etc.) . The memory of that time also consists of writing CTG umpteen times, and I know that at that time I was proud of my children for the first time, as they boycotted CTG writing a number of times by not keeping quiet enough. Then I got the feeling that they were just as tired of the constant examinations as I was.


During this time I learned to see every additional day that the children were in my stomach as a gain, and my children stayed and stayed. The day had finally come from which the two “were allowed” to come, but the period of time was short, because from the 38th week of pregnancy, the birth of twins is initiated; so my two rascals had a week to set off without any additional nudges. But my children are clever children: They saw through that such an all-round service like in the stomach outside would probably no longer be possible and decided to stay; the fixed date for induction of labor was getting closer and closer. I longed for the day more and more, not because I was looking forward to the birth, not because I was already looking forward to the children so infinitely (having children somehow seemed unrealistic to me until the last day of pregnancy), but mainly because I was no longer wanted to be pregnant. With my big belly I couldn't sleep any more, I couldn't move the way I wanted, I couldn't sit for a long time ... I just found everything more difficult. At the same time, I couldn't imagine creating a birth: My husband and I hadn't attended a birth preparation course, I wasn't doing any pregnancy gymnastics, yes at all: I had so little strength due to the constant lying down, how should I have two children ? And at the same time, in addition to the uncertainty, there was a confidence: I was not the first woman to have children.

 

My husband and I had to be at the hospital at eight o'clock in the morning at the agreed time, the night before I hardly slept anyway. Sometimes I remember trivialities and not so much the important things, for example I remember that it had rained in our house during the night and we set up buckets in the anteroom before we set off.


When I arrived at the hospital, my midwife was already there and the usual examinations were made. The contraceptive drug was given to me and my husband and I were supposed to go for a walk, and that's another memory: walks around St. Josef Hospital. It was cold and wet and we marched, but nothing happened. In the afternoon I was given the drug a second time, and we marched again, first around the hospital and then up and down empty staircases in the hospital. Now I know that it is quiet early in hospitals and the hallways are empty. Again nothing happened. It was decided that my midwife should go home and be called if she went into labor. I was told that we would wait another hour and then, if nothing happened, my husband would drive home and I would spend the night in the hospital.

 

Perhaps this information was the whole point: I was annoyed: “We march up and down for a whole day and now I'm supposed to produce contractions in an hour? How do they imagine that? They should give me more time! ”I didn't want to be pregnant anymore and I didn't want to spend another night in the hospital with a big belly! I scolded in the delivery room and got pain. I scolded more, I scolded that I finally wanted to give birth and I scolded that the pain was getting worse. I got diarrhea and went into labor. This went on for an hour and from then on the memories begin to take on something cinematic. My midwife was called, in my memory she was with us within a few minutes (which was not possible), and I was relieved about that. For me it was a signal that there was no going back now, even if that was already clear beforehand. The pain kept getting worse. It must have been the worst pain of my life, otherwise I wouldn't have screamed like that. I was grateful to my husband because he just regularly gave me something to drink, I was so thirsty. I was grateful to my midwife because when I cursed that it hurt so bad, she simply replied “I know”, and when I said: “I will stop!” She replied: “No, you will continue.” Me I screamed and I cursed, I swore I would go to the convent after this birth and asked where the pauses in labor that were written about in the books were actually.



It was so terribly hot and I was terribly thirsty. My midwife regularly gave me globules, for what or for what I still don't know. I trusted her immeasurably, and it is a mystery to me how much you can trust someone in such a situation that you hardly know in reality. One memory is that she and my husband supported me because I had run out of strength. And I remember the moment when the pain felt differently: I was allowed to press! Unfortunately, I was not allowed to stay upright for long; I had to give birth to my children lying down; I had received this information in advance, however. Everything was more difficult and exhausting lying down, but I hadn't had a choice for a long time. Again and again my legs trembled uncontrollably.


In addition, the room was filled with several doctors and another midwife, I didn't care. I remember that a doctor replied to my idea of ​​going to the monastery that I could do that and that there was also a monastery behind the hospital, but first I should finish the birth. I was grateful to her for her sense of humor. And so I kept pressing.


At some point I was allowed to feel my son's head, but that was rather disappointing, I found that he was still deep inside me. And so I kept pressing. At some point the decision was made to have a perineal cut, everything was fine with me. I was allowed to feel again, and this time the head was much closer. A point at which I once again bundled my strength and my motivation and pressed, and suddenly he was born. I've heard and read that mothers described it as the most beautiful moment in their lives when they had their child on their chest for the first time. It was not the case with me. My son was immediately turned over to the pediatrician and I was relieved. I was so tired and exhausted that I couldn't imagine holding such a little baby now. It was all a bit much. Besides, I still had a child to give birth to.


After my son was born, my midwife and a doctor held my stomach: my daughter was lying in the breech position and - now that her brother was out and she had a lot of space - she was not allowed to turn or lie across; then a vaginal birth would not be possible. I knew that beforehand. I was put on a contraceptive drug again and it was made clear to me that my daughter had to be born quickly, so I had to push hard again. I found the situation hectic and tense on the one hand, and let things happen to me on the other. And then contractions came again and I pressed. The lower part of the bed had been dismantled and I supported myself with one leg on a doctor. Fortunately, my daughter was a pound lighter than her brother when she was born, and so she almost hopped out in three contractions. She was jumping in the amniotic sac, I guess my pretty girl just didn't want to get dirty.
She, too, was immediately handed over to the pediatrician. I was just tired and powerless and then this most beautiful moment came: my husband stood behind me, held both children in his arms, looked at them (as in love as he has never looked at me, I'll never forget that look), looked at me and said: "You are beautiful". This time I didn't contradict him.

 

At some point I also stopped these two little ones. I felt awkward and everything was still so unreal. After my husband drove home, I was washed and my midwife brought me a cheese sandwich - as I said, sometimes I remember things that are so trivial. At the time, I still didn't understand that I had two children. These overwhelming feelings came over me in the room as they lay so peacefully and so nicely next to each other, wrapped up and with their hoods on their little heads, and their name tags hung at the end of the bed. I was so exhausted, I was in pain and despite all the tiredness I couldn't stop looking at her.