October 9th..... And so it began.....

I just have to warn you that this post is solely for my own therapy. Writing really helps me work through my emotions. I have not had an opportunity to process any of these events- and as today has come, realized I need to. It is lengthy, humble, and raw.  I hope that me being openly this honest will help you with something in your own life. That's what it is all about, right. Paying it forward. Having a rough go at it, and then helping others. If you do read it, please use it to lift yourself in some way.

If you comment, please do so out of support and love. (Which I would love- support from those close to me is such a strength). 

I just need to get it all out- relive it this once- and be done with it.

 
[Let me introduce myself-

I am Hannah. Hannah Joy Jackson. I was born on November 15th, 2012. But I've been around much longer than that. Let me go back a few months.

My mom was pregnant with me and my twin brother, Kayden. About 5 months along. She had recently quit her job due to a prompting that my older brothers needed her home with them. Financially it was the worst decision to make. But being in heaven and in her, I knew it was one of the wisest decisions her and my daddy made. She spent her days at home taking care of my older brothers. Cameron and Owen, who are also twins, that were 5 years old. And Zachary, who was 2. She tried her hardest to keep the house and meals together, but struggled as my brother and I grew. Her body started having a hard time circulating her blood fast enough and she would pass out. One time it scared Daddy so bad he almost called 911. 

As the weeks went by my amazing Daddy worked from home more and more so Mommy could stay off her feet and keep her ever persistent contractions down. One night, after a long day with Daddy gone to Ogden for work, her contractions just wouldn't slow down. She had been to the doctor that morning, and everything had looked great. She had even gotten the first of two of a steroid shot that would help my brother and I if we were premature. After getting my brothers in bed she got in the bath with some ginger root powder. She hadn't been able to eat all day from not feeling good and contractions. Daddy stopped on his way home and picked her up some food. When he got home and saw her in pain in the bath he tried to convince her to go in to the hospital to get checked. She didn't want to. It was late and the two times they had been before this pregnancy her contractions had died down and she hadn't dilated. After hours of convincing, and her pain getting worse, they finally went to the hospital. 

When they got there things were looking fine. Contractions were consistent but she hadn't  progressed at all.  Within a half an hour she was a 2 and I was breach. Because She was only 28 weeks and 6 days they couldn't keep me and my twin at Logan Hospital. Within minutes they informed my parents that my mom would be taken by helicopter or ambulance to McKay Dee hospital. My dad went into shock and couldn't stop shaking. Mommy was emotionally strong and told daddy that they would deal with whatever arose. 

This day- October 9th, 2012- was one of the hardest things mom and dad ever went through. And it was just the beginning.]

On October 9th around 11:00 pm I called my mom and calmly told her they were taking me to McKayDee hospital. That my brother Billy had secretly come over to our house to be with sleeping boys so that I wouldn't wake her up for another uneventful night. I asked her to meet us there and soon learned that I could go by uncomfortable ambulance ride and the sweet nurses (Dee and Dr. Smith) arranged a way for Trevor to ride with us- but he had to sit in the front with the driver and let a paramedic be back with me on the stretcher. They had given me drug after drug- by mouth and shot and IV- to get the labor to stop. Nothing was working. Being in labor and buckled to a stretcher on an hour and a half drive in the back of an ambulance with a lot of emotional stress- is not pleasant. I kept getting soooo nauseous and the paramedic couldn't get a hold of the right person to know what medications they'd already given me and if he could give me something for it. So he kindly gave me alcohol towelettes to sniff. (It actually worked). He was the sweetest man. He'd been doing the job for many many years and was getting ready to retire. We talked the entire drive and I wouldn't let him time my contractions (I didn't want to know) and promised I'd tell him if I felt pressure. But was very content being lost in conversation about his sweet family and not worrying about mine. We got to McKayDee about 3 am. I was so stinking drugged. I just remember coming out of the elevator and seeing my mom and Rob standing there- with bags- and the worst look ever in there eyes when they saw me. They rolled us into a room and transferred me into the bed. We were on the labor and delivery floor. I was not impressed with the nurses. We had such a promptness getting there- and they had no prompt anything. My mom was so worried about my blood sugar, and (from my skewed memory) they kind of told her off. 

Many different workers came in to tell us many different things. Prepping for c-section. Giving you this medicine. Taking this vital. A man came in and said he worked in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. He explained the very long list of huge problems our babies were going to have- if they even survived. I had been so strong up to that point. But after Trevor calming down on the ambulance drive (I think him and the driver talked about hunting- apparently he wanted some distractive conversation as well). and hearing such blunt (quiet rudely, non- compassionately given) news, I lost it. I started crying so hard I couldn't calm down. I didn't really want to either. I just completely lost it. My physical body was so worn down already (between labor and drugs and low blood sugar), I began to shake all over. That was the rawest moment of my entire life. Trevor put his face right next to mine, cheek touching my cheek, telling me he loved me- over and over. He told me to calm down and take some breaths. My mom and Rob were holding down my legs and feet, trying so hard to get them to stop shaking, they were crying as hard as we were. It was probably one of the worst moments of my life. That moment.

The doctor came in and said they wanted to give me a morphine shot to help me relax a little. McKayDee hospital is just across the street from my mom's work and she asked if I wanted her co-worker to come over and help give a blessing. They gave me the morphine. He got there and Trevor and him and Rob gave me a priesthood blessing. Minutes later my contractions flat lined. They had been every minute and a half. Suddenly they were absolutely gone. Not even a miniscule of one. The entire staff was absolutely astonished. There was no reason for them to stop. No scientific reason. But they did. And at that moment, the power of angels and God became so real to me. I will always be so grateful for that blessing.

With the relief - HUGE RELIEF - that that brought, I finally fell asleep. It was like 10:00 in the morning. That was a rough 12 hours. I would wake up every so often and tell Trevor and my mom a long list of food that I wanted when I could eat. (I don't know if they really were laughing, but I just remember I kept waking up and telling them different food they had to get me, and they would just laugh and tell me to go back to sleep).

The next week or so is really blurry. Absolutely any stimulation- even conversation- sent me back into labor. They had put a cathider in me before I got transfered so that the pressure of needing to urinate wouldn't increase my contractions during the ambulance ride. After a few days the doctor was concerned about it causing an infection and removed it. That day was a night mare. My contractions got worse when I needed to pee. Then they got even worse when I tried to get up - and wobble- to the bathroom. Then worse getting back in the bed. All to start again after another half an hour. After trying a bed pan a few times- the nurses finally convinced the doctor to let them put it back in.   

  

After some time, I got adjusted. I learned what sent my contractions through the roof, and mastered the art of shutting my mind off. There were many times that it was necessary to not think- otherwise, it put to much pressure on my body- and we were back to adding more drugs into my system. (Which I was already on a very regimented amount of multiple drugs). I was finally able to shower every once in a while, and began getting used to my days being spent in a hospital bed hours away from my family.

My mom became my saving grace. Her boss was amazing and let her work from my hospital room and she'd run across the street to her office for meetings and such. She brought me a jamba juice every morning. She came with me to my twice weekly appointments with the high risk specialists. (They wheel chaired me to their offices- in the same building). She sat by me and tried to help keep monitors on my huge belly with active babies while they tried to watch the never ending contractions.

I had contractions 24/7. Anytime a new nurse came on shift she freaked out and started calling labor and delivery (My stay was on the post baby floor). We tried to reassure her that it was normal. They would never end. All we could do was stay on top of the medication and keep me in tune to things feeling 'different'. The medication relaxed soft tissue muscles - my uterus - but also, my heart. So often my vitals wouldn't be high enough to take more or it became too dangerous for me.

My days actually went by pretty quick. My moms conversations always helped. I had meal times, snack times (both of which I had to order over an hour ahead from the hospital cafeteria). I got very tired of my limited gluten free choices. My mom and friend Mel filled my drawer of things I could change it up with.

 I had to be on monitors twice a day an hour each, at a minimum. But that hour had to be with the babies constantly on..... They never stopped moving..... so it usually took at least 3 hours, twice a day, to get a good reading. I had doctors visits and ultrasounds twice a week. I was allowed to shower and/or wheel chair ride, once a day. Most days both of those activities was too much. My body just couldn't handle any more than laying.

I learned to love the nurses. They were like extra caring room mates. They were sensitive to me and trusted my instincts. They were considerate and caring. They became my best friends. 

And Trevor was nothing short of a hero. He was constantly driving to Ogden to see me, support me, lift my spirits, dry my tears, and be by me. Most of the time when he came we would be talking to doctors and nurses about what to do next. He always came when things got scary - which was almost every day for the first couple weeks. More scary meant increased contractions, different pain, etc. This meant more medication. Normally a very painful shot - to try to get things to slow down before I progressed any further.

Then he spent the rest of his time being a stay at home dad AND a full time worker. He took care of transporting kids to and from kindergarten, lunch, snacks, dinner, homework, bedtime, extra snuggles and consoling, and all the other everyday dishes, laundry, sweeping and cleaning. My ward family, neighborhood, and community rallied around us. I didn't have the energy to talk with them- but my mom and Trevor quickly learned that help was a phone call away. Endless amounts of help streamed in- for (complicated) gluten free dinners, babysitting, and cleaning. Often people would just show up on our doorstep with 'an hour to help'. Our kids inherited many 'sudo' grandmas - while their actual grandmas were to busy with me.

 The hospital had an area that their job was to help my mental well being :) They brought two boxes of activities for the kids and a bunch of books. I was able to have them come and see me and my room. They had fun- and it completely overwhelmed me. It gave me a sense that me being in the hospital away from them, although was heart breaking and hard, was the best place for me to be to keep the babies in. They came one other time and the hospital arranged a pizza party for our family (with Gluten free pizza even!) to celebrate how long I'd made it.

3 weeks there. And can I say one day in a hospital feels like 3 or 4. So 3 weeks feels like a few months. My whole world stopped around me. Quiet literally. I looked at the same four walls 24/7 and the most excitement I had was when Trevor and I 'went on a date' to the cafeteria to pick our food instead of ordering it up. (It, again, was too much stimulation- and sent me back into labor).

I finally made it though. To 32 weeks. At the beginning the goal was just to make it another day. As the weeks went on the goal was to make it to 32 weeks. If I made it to then I could get transferred to Logan Hospital and the babies would be born much closer to home. I finally made it- on Halloween Day.   

Because of insurance reasons- they had to completely release me from the hospital and then in secret tell me I had to go to the hospital and check back in. I was getting transferred without transfer papers. It was a great blessing to go home and physically see my kids. My got lots of Halloween crafts for them to do. After the long drive home and the big reunion- I was hard back into labor after a short hour or so. Looked like Skype was still the best way to see my sweet kids. My mom took me to the hospital and Trevor took the kids trick or treating. I completely missed Halloween. I'm still grieving that. 

I spent a long night in labor and delivery while we tried to convince the nurses and the doctors that the contractions were not going to lessen and they just needed to admit me. My sweet nurse Ruth came in late. She sat next to me in the quiet room and asked me how I really was. She understood that the walls can seem to close in on you and that it's a hard fight to fight. She became so much more to me than a nurse that night.

In the morning I got admitted to Logan Regional Hospital. I started to have a harder time. Although I had been in the hospital for three weeks - things were different here. I had different nurses, a different room, a different schedule. I really didn't want to fight any more. The nurses and doctors here had way less experience with keeping someone pregnant. They worked on mom and baby, and really didn't know what to do with me. I, literally, showed them how to work the machines and hook ups. I reminded them that I couldn't take ibuprofen and that they couldn't forget to give me my contraction medication. They would always forget I had celiac disease and would offer me crackers with my medicine. We were in a much safer place gestationally for the babies, and much closer to home. I got to see my regular doctor (whom I love - Dr. Craig) and had some really hard days there. I started to lose my desire to be strong.

On November 5th, I started to feel really sick. I was on the phone with Trevor and he (once again) convinced me to have the nurses check me. I can't describe how tired I was to getting hooked up to contraction monitors. As I got worse and worse - I finally asked them to come in. It was around dinner time. They started hooking me up - and we quickly all learned that this was different. A nurse from labor and delivery came up and checked me - I had progressed - I was a 3. They quickly put my bed guards up and took me to labor and delivery. I called my mom and Trevor while getting wheeled.

I was so ready to be done. I was ready to be strong for sick babies than for it to be my own body. It sounds selfish- but I don't think anyone can understand the daily fight I had to make.

My mom and Rob quickly got there. (I think they were ready to be done with late night phone calls, "Things are getting worse again. I need you.") They never once complained and were always so smiley and sympathetic.

 They gave me every medicine possible. Nothing was helping. Everytime they checked me I was more dialated. When I got to a 5 Dr. Craig was going to break my water.
She then decided to wait until I got to a 6.


I never got to a 6. The medicine couldn't stop the labor. But something else did. Everything stopped. Truthfully, I was so disappointed. After a whole night (again) going into labor, and then it stopping, Dr. Craig asked if I would like to go home. I think she recognized that my emotional well being was rapidly declining. She explained that medically they could not stop the labor any more. If it was easier on me to stay and be away from the excitement of my kids, she would re-admit me. If not, she would discharge me.

 After finally letting me eat (oh my gosh- I was seriously starving - again). I decided I just wanted to go home.

My mom took a long list of things to get me to help it be easier on Trevor. Paper plates, gluten free soups and frozen meals.I put on clothes (which was a wierd sensation after being in a hospital gown for a month) and headed home. Trevor kindly stopped at Cafe Rio to get me some non hospital food for lunch.

Over the next ten days, I spent my whole day in a recliner (that Rob had bought me the DAY I went into the hospital) next to my bed. I couldn't get into my bed- and I also couldn't breath if I leaned back or layed down. The house stayed messy and the kids quickly learned that having my home wasn't much different than me being in the hospital.

 But at least I could touch them. It hurt if they tried to hug me to much. But they were thrilled to hear a nighttime story from me, instead of me through the computer.

I had doctor's appointments and ultrasounds twice a week. My swelling in my legs continued to get worse and worse. To the point they did scans mulitple times at the ER to make sure that I was not forming any blood clots. Miserable does not describe it. I could not escape it- at all. I couldn't hardly walk to the bathroom. Everything had to be done for me. Everything.

Dr. Craig was concerned about my swelling and truly sympathized at my size. At one appointment she told me she was going to take me c-section- that day. She didn't want it to go any longer. She called my high risk specialists.... and they wouldn't allow her. They had the say over her- and my hopes of some relief- were shattered.

 Trevor and my mom continued to try to help me in any way - so that I could continue.

On November 15th I had a doctor's appointment.I weighed 218 pounds (pre-pregnancy weight was 145). I was 52 inches around (that's over 4 feet). I was 57 cenitmeters from the stop of my stomach to bottom. This is usually the measurement of how many weeks pregnant you are - this is over '14 months'. My swelling was so bad I couldn't hardly walk because my legs rubbed together.

After the doctor's appointment we went to Walmart to get me some compression leggings. I was 34 weeks - and done. We walked through that whole store. The contractions picked up and I'm sure everybody wondered if I was going to have a baby right there when I would stop to breath through them.

They got worse through the day and I felt worse and worse. I was so tired of false alarms, so I continued to shoo Trevor away when he would mention going in. He finally convinced me just to go get checked. By the time my mother in law got to our house to watch the kids, I knew it was the real deal. I was in labor.

 I walked into labor and delivery around 8:00 pm. Dr. Craig was sitting there (she had just finished a c-section). She looked up at me, confused because she had seen me not to many hours before that, and said, "No way." They checked me- it was time.

 Hannah was baby A (meaning she was closer to the cervix). When Dr. Craig checked me the presenting parts were Hannah's head and Kayden's foot (we later found out that was really opposite). I really wanted a vaginal delivery - but Dr. Craig wasn't sure she could move the babies in the way to make it successful. If surgery meant I could be done with this phase - I was happy with that.

They let me waddle back to the OR. Cute Dr. Craig laughed and told Trevor it was the last time he was going to have a chance to video that waddle. Once in the OR, they had a really hard time getting the anestesia into my back. He kept telling me to lean forward, but I couldn't - literally - my belly was on the bed/table. They angeled the table and pushed me forward so my belly was hanging over the table and Trevor was holding all of my weight. (It scared me to death - I was heavy, and I couldn't stop my own fall if I tried).

They finally got it and started drawing the insision mark. They all burst out into laughter because they couldn't draw a straight line on my enormous belly.

 
 Within a couple hours of getting there we finally met our sweet daughter. Hannah Joy Jackson. She ended up being breach- but by her bum down. She had dark hair just like her brother Owen. She was beautiful and big! 6 pounds, 5 ounces. 19 inches long. I kept hearing the nurses laughing that she was sticking out her tongue.

 They asked Trevor if they wanted hold his daughter. I suddenly started to feel really tired. My blood pressure dropped. The anesthesiologist started giving me medicine in my IV to raise it. They handed Hannah to Trevor and I started to get so sick. All of the staff was busy with other things and so Trevor held little plastic puke containers (yes plural) while shielding Hannah with his body. He didn't even get to look at her. They took her away while he continued to help me.

60 seconds later they delivered Kayden Trevor Jackson. By his feet. His was big too! 5 pounds 13 ounces. 18 1/2 inches. He was the loudest crier! They took him. Trevor reassured me he was fine.

They took me to recovery (with my mom) and Trevor went with the babies. Kayden defiantly was struggling more. He needed enough medical attention that Trevor couldn't really see him. He kept coming back to check on me. My blood pressure reading indicated that I should have been passed out. I took a really long time to recover.

I finally did enough that they took me to my room and had me on oxygen. They told me I could see my babies once I could feel my legs. Around 2 am, I was able to go to them.

I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to hold Hannah. She was hardly hooked up to anything. I even got to nurse her - and having done the premature, NCU thing before - I knew how lucky I was to have that opportunity.

Kayden was harder to look at. I didn't show it, but it sucked. It took him some time to be well enough for me to be able to talk to him, touch him, or hold him.

But I did get to.

And so the next phase started. The NCU. Only 6 people (outside of Trevor and I) could come in to see them. So Grandmas and Grandpas it was.

I felt like a crazy person with all my wrist bands.



My white board changed- from my hospital room - to their NCU room.

It was such a precious moment when the boys got to come and see the babies through the window. They didn't understand that I was now going to be here all the time instead of the recliner.

For 3 1/2 weeks this new hospital room became my home. Still doing everything I could for these babies. Just what I did shifted. I was determined to nurse them - and that meant A LOT of pumping. Pumping in a lonely house in the middle of the night every other hour, with no one around. Feeding them from a bottle or feeding tube for an hour, pumping, eating, and then time to feed them again.

Logan Regional Hospital had built a new NCU since Cameron and Owen were in it. It was beautiful. Twin babies got their own room. We had a couch and two recliners. And even a door that shut. I can't tell you what a blessing that is while you are trying to bond with a baby that isn't well enough to come home. It takes time to feel connected to them when they are connected to machines. 

I always felt torn at which baby to help. I would do skin to skin and help with medications, diaper changes, temperture readings, and feedings. But it wasn't physically possible to do it with both of them. They were hooked up to machines on seperate walls. 

One day our nurse, Ann, asked if I wanted to try to feed them together. I was totally confused at how that was possible. She spent a lot of time and got portable machines, IV stands, monitors, and oxygen tanks to make Hannah portable. She then was able to move her to Kayden's side of the room. And for the first time I could tangibly feel that I had two babies. It was raw and beautiful.

(This is not that exact moment - but this picture cracks me up that they're both rooting at Kayden's hand)

 

On December 9th they were discharged. Kayden came home on oxygen - but they were coming home - and together. Our time, all 3 of us, in the hospital, was finally at an end.

We have now spent an entire year since that awful day. October 9th. We have learned to have 7 people in our house instead of 5. And I never thought it was possible, but my heart has grown to love them even more.

 At their 9 month appointment, they asked me to weigh Hannah. She was too big and mature to lay on the scale. A tear came to my eye looking at her now. Sitting, smiling, beaming.

She was right. Her mom was strong. She gave every ounce of every thing that she had. Plus more. 

I don't know where I found the strength to make it. Some days, I didn't think I'd make it to the next. But I did. And I will never, ever, want to change the experience. It was the hardest thing I have ever endured through. But I endured. And now I know that I can do anything.

 It was perfect in it's whole. 

 As are we.