Maggie and Ellen : A Birth Story - Part 3

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I once heard a midwife speak of labor as a woman’s greatest battle. Each woman approaches and responds to labor differently. We bring different hopes, fears, and experiences to this life-changing event. We stand at the edge of this painfully beautiful moment and decide who we will be as we birth little lives into the world.

Here it was, my moment to choose.

Who would I be?

How would I respond?

“What?!” Ray says.

“There’s no way. How can that even be possible?”

An understandable question my husband raised as I explained several days postpartum that I spent the first 20+ minutes faking my pushing efforts.

“What do you mean, how is that possible?” I smile.

“I’m a doula. I know what a pushing momma looks like. You hold your breath, tuck your chin, and pretend to push.”

I can’t help but laugh. He’s totally scandalized and a bit impressed.

A little more than 20 minutes - that’s how long it took for me to choose to surrender my girls.

I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. I was sick and exhausted and knew what working with rather than against my body meant.  

My doulas gently reminded me that pushing was my choice, though the girls would be born no matter what. Ray showered me with encouragement. Taryn turned the Beauty Will Rise album back on. Brandy placed Valor on my neck and chest (thank you, Young Living Oils).

And that was it; that mix of moments.

Something clicked and I starting pushing.

Ellen was born breech, thank you love, at 7:31pm.

Dr. Eppard held her up, the neonatal Dr. looked at me, and I sat there in shock.

 “That’s all? That’s all of her? She’s the big twin?”

No. There was no way she could possibly survive. She was long, but tiny – not even the width of the palm of my hand. 

Ellen went straight from Dr. Eppard’s hands to my chest. She snuggled in and sucked her thumb.

You would think the second babe wouldn’t hurt as much.

Totally. Wrong.

The pain. Wow. Just wow.

Maggie was born like Ellen, breech, but in her bag of waters (which is a pretty incredible sight) at 7:44pm.

Just like her sister, she was transferred to my arms.

They lay face-to-face, holding hands, surrounded by peace, and held with love.

They were beautiful and identical and had what’s lovingly referred to in my family as “the Chisolm chin,” bless their hearts.

The room stayed silent, peaceful, and reverent. Our incredible nurse Samantha, who had now stayed passed her shift, gently lifted the blanket covering the girls to check for heart tones.

How lucky I feel to be the one holding them for the both the first and last beats of their hearts.

Have I mentioned how amazing my medical team was? Yes? Good.

The Dr. waited patiently for the placenta to come. Even though it took longer than he felt comfortable with, my bleeding was not excessive and he wanted to give my body the chance to do things on its own.

Nearly half an hour after Maggie’s birth the placenta finally detached and was delivered. As a birth professional I am fascinated with placentas. They are incredibly powerful and beautiful organs. Usually a healthy placenta is a nice dark purple color. Mine was bright red. Dr. Eppard took the time to exam it with us, showing us where the blood vessels that created the TTTS connected. How crazy - all this life and death and pain thanks to a few blood vessels.

Life is beautifully fragile.

My body continued to be strong and responded exactly the way it needed to. As soon as the infected placenta was out my fever began to break, my blood pressure and heart rate stabilized.

And seemingly all at once, everything became quite, everything became still.  

I was alive but empty.

Grateful but heartbroken.

The fight was over.

Our girls were gone.

We have been deeply moved by and grateful for the amount of support and love we have received from our family, friends, and community. You all have been Christ to us. Your cards, calls, donations, prayers, meals, etc. have given us the strength to wake up every day and keep breathing. 

We know this pain will be something we live with on some level or another for the rest of lives. We will carry this ache forever – always longing for the day when we will be united once again, in the presence of The Lord.

We are grieving and broken, yet we find peace and healing in knowing that even in our darkest moments, our God is with us – Emmanuel.