Flashback

I can remember only too well the anxious drama of the night that our girls were born. We had been drawing out, over the course of two or three days, the hope that, despite clear signs that the pregnancy was progressing into labour, we might yet forestall the girls' arrival for days or even weeks. 


In the early days of Jan's pregnancy, when we had feared it might be in jeopardy, we went to the doctor's one day and he sat there doing the ultrasound on Janet and calmly declared: "no, we're fine here. Here's the heartbeat... oh, and another... and one more." You could have knocked me over with a P-sized Pamper. Later, when we were coming to grips with the reality that there were three babies in Jan's womb, we met with a neonatologist to get a sense of the relative risks of a triplet pregnancy. I recall his calm and happy demeanour and the lengthy period of time he spent talking to us. I recall him telling us that he was himself the father of twins. I thought: if he can do twins, why can't we do triplets? The risks of triplet pregnancy, he told us, were mostly those related to the high risk of prematurity in multiple pregnancies. Twins presented higher risks of premature delivery than singletons and triplets with risks multiple times that of twins.


As the evening of April 12th evolved slowly and inexorably into the morning of April 13th, an increasingly steady stream of visitors entered the labour room we were in. There were conversations in hushed tones at the back of the rooms: medical students talking to residents speaking to "Attendings." Nurses there at every moment, giving medication, an empathetic ear and experienced tips for comfort and rest. All I could do was run back and forth to the ice chip machine, and try to catch a few winks, with a growing sense of dread that it would be a long night, followed by an even longer day.


Finally, at about 3:00AM, the attending obstetrician spoke to us. The best case "stalling" scenario, involving more medication and pretty much hanging Janet from the ceiling by her feet, would gain us a day or two at most, maybe a week at the absolute outside. It was a risky approach: Janet's membranes could break and that scenario presented a dire risk of  umbilical cord(s) getting caught and depriving one or more of the babies of vital oxygen -- a true obstetrical emergency.... OR, we could decide to proceed with delivery now, in a controlled, deliberate and safe manner. The teams of nurses and other medical professionals needed to care for the girls could be made available and they could be attended to in a fashion that was organized and cautious. It was a difficult decision, because we wanted to give the girls every opportunity to mature as much as possible in Jan's womb, but we ultimately decided that we had to put their safe delivery ahead of all other considerations. I remember feeling a tremendous sense of relief once we made the decision to proceed with delivery. I felt strongly that these girls wanted to be out in the world, to sense the air and the light and to feel the warmth of their parents' touch.


My memory gets a bit blurry here, because my sense is that everything sped up tremendously at that point. There was no more waiting. Once we agreed to proceed with delivery, it was as though everybody had just been waiting for us to agree to it. We were ushered into the delivery room and there were three baby warmers waiting with a horde of nurses diligently prepping and testing equipment. It struck me then: these babies are coming, and they are coming now... and yes, they came!


Cheers,
Jer