One Year Later: Finding Out We Were Having Twins

I mentioned in a previous post that in the upcoming weeks and months one year anniversaries will begin to pass by. Since the last year (or so) has been a blur, I’ll be using these one-year markers to remember those moments – joyful and painful. I just want to put into words the memories and feelings those days possessed in order to remember and to share. Since beginning our infertility journey, it’s been incredibly important to me to share these moments – good or bad – in hopes that it could possibly be a small light for those in similar situations seeking some level of comfort in uncomfortable situations. I’ll be the first to tell you, when I need information, I hit the World Wide Web. So I pray that these posts will reach women, men, or families that need it.

So here we are.

One year ago, on August 12, 2014.

Last year on this day Chris and I walked into our fertility clinic and were placed in a small room with an exam bed and an ultrasound machine. I found out I was pregnant two weeks prior via a blood test. My blood work suggested a successful pregnancy with numbers increasing appropriately. Today was the day we would finally (finally!) get to see the life inside of me.

In the past two weeks we had briefly discussed and guessed how many babies we could possibly be expecting. Ultrasounds prior to our IUI showed I had three mature eggs. So we knew it was possible that there could be three babies. Or there could be one. Or two. Or even six if all three released, fertilized, and multiplied (whoa!) - as multiples do run in my family.

But it didn’t matter. God was in control and how ever many were in there would be a blessing and a gift.

In the forefront of my mind, I felt like there was one. Deep in a tiny, quiet and calm part of my heart, I knew there would be two. I knew. God had been preparing me for two. I could not deny that and it was an indescribable deep-in-my-gut-feeling. But no matter what I felt or thought, the answer to our question of how many (a question only those who go through fertility treatment are thinking at the first ultrasound) was going to be answered in a matter of minutes.

I was sitting on the exam bed. Chris was holding my left hand and my right hand was keeping the paper sheet in place that covered my lower body. It didn’t take long and in walked our nurse practitioner and the sonographer.

It felt like a matter of seconds that I was lying on the exam table and anxiously looking at the ultrasound screen. Before I could even cock my head to look at the screen straight on, before I could even make sense of the black and gray images constantly changing shape, before I could even take a deep breath in preparation for the news I was about to hear, I heard the words, “So how do y’all feel about two?”

“What? There are two? Twins?”

“Yes, there are two. You’re having twins! Congratulations!”

It was like confetti was flying across the room and a loud applause began. I wanted to shout in excitement! Scream! Cry! Jump! Do cartwheels! It was the #BestNewsEver

We squeezed each other’s hands. We exchanged a look that I won’t even attempt to describe. Chris leaned down to give me a kiss. I had faint tears in my eyes for the pure joy of the entire situation. I was really pregnant. It was no longer an hCG number or a double line. I saw my baby. I could see BOTH of my babies. I’d finally reached a point in my life that I had desired so badly. I was pregnant. Really pregnant. And there was proof on the screen. Nine beautiful months lied ahead. Life could not get better.

The NP went on to show us baby A and baby B in detail. I was five weeks and two days along. Baby B already had a heartbeat and we got to stare and gawk at the most beautiful and miraculous flicker. Baby A did not have a heart beat yet, but our NP assured us that the baby implanted after baby B and she was confident that A would have a heart beat next week. We trusted her. And sure enough, the following week both babies had strong heart beats in the 140’s.

We spent the rest of that day basking in the fact that we were expecting twins in the Spring of 2015. That our lives would inevitably be flipped upside down in a matter of nine months – but in the best way imaginable. Life was unfolding into something amazing and it was just getting started. We called our parents, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and close friends.

That night we went to bed with smiles on our faces – we were glowing from the day’s joyous news.  Praising God for the two lives growing inside of me. Hands down, the best day of our lives.

Birth Story: Twins at 23 Weeks

Monday, December 15, started out like every other day since starting my bed rest. I was awake when Chris would leave for work - he spent every single night at the hospital with me, so we had our own bed rest routine. Around this time, my nurse would come in for my 6am medication - and after that, I would have my quiet time. I'd read Jesus Calling and spend some time in prayer. Every morning I thanked God for a new day, which meant another day behind us; I prayed for our girls and their specific needs and I prayed for Chris. Me being on bed rest was just as trying on him as it was me, if not more.

After my quiet time and the local news, my doctor came for her morning rounds. We chatted; talked about how exciting it was to be into my 23rd week and that in less than a week I'd be getting my steroid shots. We were both so excited for where I was and what the upcoming week meant.

After her visit, I closed my eyes and fell asleep until breakfast was brought in. Most mornings, I would be anxiously awaiting the delivery of my breakfast tray - but after my doctor left the room, I fell asleep. When breakfast was delivered, I remember being hungry and wanting to eat, but fatigue won and I fell back asleep. This never happened. I was always ready to eat.

This was the case throughout the day. I'd eat, then nap. Had my ultrasound, then nap. Got assessed by the nurse, then nap. Ate lunch, then nap. And that went on until the evening. I slept more this day than any other day. Looking back, I see God was giving me rest and preparing me for a long night and even longer day ahead.

Chris got "home" from work around 7pm. Once he ate dinner and settled in, we got out the computer. We'd been on a weekend binger watching The Killing on Netflix - and we were ready to dive back into the show.

As we started watching, I began to notice I was having several Braxton Hicks. I mentioned in previous updates, that I would have them fairly often, but it was never worrisome and my doctor was aware. Most days I would have 4-5 within an hour and then none the rest of the day. After subconsciously noticing that I was having several of them, I began to pay close attention. Within a 45 minute show, I had 10+ Braxton Hicks. I knew that was too many for that time frame, but I didn't think too much about it. I tried to steer clear of over thinking anything my body did. Let's be honest, when you're pregnant, you're hyperaware of any and everything your body does or feels. Even more so when on bed rest. So I always made an effort not to think too much - and definitely no Googling.

As we started a second episode, I noticed the Braxton Hicks continued and were more noticeable. I continued to brush it off because they still felt like the Braxton Hicks I'd been having for the past several weeks.

By the third episode, my Braxton Hicks began feeling different. My uterus was contracting, but instead of it being in the middle and upper portion of my belly, it was low. There was still no pain, just a change in their typical location.

After the third episode, we decide to call it a night.

I was laying in my bed, in complete silence and darkness aware of nothing else except what my body was doing. I began to realize that whatever I was feeling was becoming consistent and getting stronger. I grabbed my phone and watched the clock. Every four minutes, my uterus contracted. Each one a little stronger than the previous. I could feel pressure in my pelvic region that radiated to my back. After 30 minutes, I told myself, Ok, if I have one more, I'll call my nurse. I had another one, but I was in denial. One more, then I'll call her. Ok, one more.

I finally confronted what was going on and called my nurse.

I never called my nurse. My nurses knew I never called them. She popped her head into our dark room and the first words out of her mouth were, "Are you OK?"

I explained everything from the multiple Braxton Hicks to the worsening contractions. And from this moment on everything became a blur. For the next 8-12 hours, time stood still, yet it all happened in a flash.

She put the toco monitor on me, which measures contractions - and sure enough, I was having contractions four minutes apart. After my water broke at 17 weeks, the monitor showed I was having contractions, but never strong enough to the point that I felt them. I'm guessing I had contractions all day before giving birth, but never felt them until they were getting closer together that evening.

My nurse initially told me to start drinking as much water as I could, but it seemed like as soon as I reached for my water bottle, she had already decided I needed IV fluids. Once she got my IV going and called my doctor,  she gave me two shots, 30 minutes apart, to try and stop the contractions. The medication slowed them down. They were barely noticeable and further apart. A bit of a relief; however, this lasted for about an hour after the last shot. Then they came back. Stronger.

My nurse spoke with my doctor again at this point and she was given orders to check my cervix for any dilation. So she did. And after she did, she didn't say anything. So I asked.

Six centimeters.

My heart dropped. 

I had just noticed mild contractions and I was already six centimeters dilated. This can't be happening. She stepped out of the room to call my doctor again. When she came back into my room, she had my chart. My heart dropped again. She calmly told me I was going to Labor and Delivery.

If I've learned anything about myself since Halloween, when my water broke, it's that when I find myself in high, emotionally-charged situations, I go into shock-mode. I'm sure for everyone it is different, but for me, my shock-mode is a lot of different things, in no particular order. I'm calm. I'm freaking out in my head. I'm still. I react. I move forward. Then, in the blink of an eye, hours from when it all began, reality takes over and I cry.

As soon as she told me I was going to L&D, I went into shock-mode. My bed was being rolled out of room 205 and I was being pushed down the long, dark hall that led to the double doors of L&D. I was pushed through the double doors and passed by several familiar faces before entering into my room. None of us said anything, we just looked at each other. We exchanged silent looks that screamed fear and sadness; we knew what the near future held.

I was rolled into Room 11 that was already filled with several people. Two NICU beds were being prepared as I was being asked if I wanted an epidural or pain medication. What? I didn't know. Was I really about to have these babies? Somebody tell me what I need to do. I must have had a look on my face that read exactly that. One of the nurses informed me that the pain medication would reach the babies and could possibly make them lethargic if they were born - which would make things even harder for them.

At this point, a whole new level of shock hit me. I'm in L&D, talking about an epidural and delivering my babies. I had always wanted to have natural deliveries - I was even one of those women who considered a home birth, but these contractions were no joke. I'm not sure if I have a low tolerance for pain or if they were just that bad. They felt debilitating. I knew I didn't want my girls to be lethargic, so I got the epidural.

I was also given antibiotics, magnesium, steroid shots, and fluids. I had two dopplers and a toco on my belly. I spoke with many different people including the nurse anesthetist, a NICU nurse, my nurses, my OBGYN, a phlebotomist, my husband, and my mother in law; however, I don't remember much of what was said. I do remember asking the NICU nurse if she'd ever seen babies born this early survive. She told me she did, but I could read the sense of doubt in her voice and on her face.



At some point, things settled down. The room cleared out. Everything was set up. The room was ready for whatever the future held. So I tried to sleep. I wanted to take a break and escape the madness that had been going on for the past five, six, seven hours. But it was impossible.

All of a sudden it was shift change. My night nurses were leaving me. Surprisingly, I found myself scared and anxious about the fact that those who were with me since all this started so many hours ago weren't going to be here. I clung to them. I didn't want them to leave. They had gotten me through the chaos and all settled in my new room. For some reason, them leaving made me uneasy.

Shortly after shift change and getting acquainted with my new nurses, my OBGYN came in again - she had checked me earlier that morning when I first got into my new L&D room and I was still six cm, but she wanted to check my cervix one more time before she headed over to her office for the day.

She checked.

I was completely dilated.

She told me in a very quiet, calm voice that she could feel Mary Elliott's head and arm and that she was ready to come out. I felt tears running down my face. I called out Chris's name. Between my tears and my doctor beginning to suit up, he knew too.

Just like that. I was going to deliver. Within seconds, before I could even process what just came out of her mouth, she was dressed in blue from head to toe, there was a table full of sterilized tools at the end of the bed, and my legs were bent up.

There I was, four months before any of this should be happening - my husband holding my hand, a nurse at each of my legs, and my doctor at the end of the bed saying, it's time to push. 




I found it incredibly difficult to really know if I was pushing because of the epidural. The coaching and encouragement I received from everyone during the pushing let me know I was doing something right. So I kept on.

I pushed. Maybe three or four times… and there she was.

Our first born daughter. I burst into tears that both celebrated the life of our child, but also feared for the future. She was out. No longer safe inside of me. She was impossibly small. I could only see tiny hands and tiny feet over my belly that still housed Sadie Ann. I cried. And cried. I was overjoyed to see her, but scared because all odds were against her. I could no longer do anything for her. She was taken across the room to her NICU bed where it seemed like dozens of people were surrounding her. I laid my head back and prayed for her.

WIthin minutes my doctor looked up at me and said Sadie Ann was coming too. Before I could even process that Sadie Ann was coming too, she broke my water and told me to start pushing again. So I pushed. Pushed. Pushed. And there she was. Four minutes later. Our second born daughter. I could see her a little bit better. She was moving and kicking. Then quickly whisked away to her NICU bed.

The room was chaotic once again. Lots of voices talking at one time. People in and out. Surrounding both of our girls. People cleaning up the bed. Asking me to roll left, roll right. Taking out my epidural. Taking off the dopplers. Cleaning me up.

Just like that it was all over. I was no longer pregnant. No longer on bed rest. I could no longer provide a calm, safe environment for my girls. I could only lay there and watch the backs of several nurses as they did everything they could for two babies born 17 weeks early. 17 weeks early. 

Although in the moment, time did not seem to exist, it was after about 30 minutes of working on Mary Elliott, that her neonatologist came over to my bed. She told us that they tried everything that they could, but her lungs would not inflate. They were just too premature; too firm from the lack of fluid in the past seven weeks. She told us that she still had a heartbeat and thought it would be best if we held her rather than for them to keep working on her.

With tears pouring down our faces, we agreed.

A nurse brought her over. There she was. Finally in our arms.

Perfect. Beautiful. She was showered with kisses. Told hundreds of times how much she was loved. Told how proud we were of how strong she had been in mommy's belly. We smiled and celebrated the beautiful life we created. A life that God decided to place in our arms. How blessed to be hand-picked by God to be this little girl's parents during her short life here on earth.

Since this day, I often find myself overwhelmed with sadness, sometimes even anger, at how fleeting my time was with Mary Elliott. However, when those feeling strike, I redirect my thoughts to this fact: as she took her last breath on this earth and left my arms, she then opened her eyes for the first time and saw Jesus. My daughter never had to see or experience this broken world. She's only ever seen heaven. And although I selfishly want her here with me, I'm oh-so thankful she knows no pain or sorrow. Having faith and confidence in this makes it all bearable.

After our time with Mary Elliott, Chris went to the NICU to see Sadie Ann before she was transferred to a different hospital with a higher-level NICU that she needed. Before she left, the NICU transport team brought her by my room. I held her little hand and told her how much I loved her. Then she was off to what would be her home for the next several weeks to come.

Naming the Twins

Since finding out we were expecting and then finding out we were expecting twins, we vaguely talked about names. We'd occasionally flip through baby name books or randomly mentioned a name we liked, but never agreed on any names. However, prior to even being married, we did agreed on one name. The name of our first daughter, Mary Elliott. 

Mary Elliott was easy for us and we agreed on it right away. We both loved classic, double names - and Mary was about as classic as it gets and is typically used in southern, double names. For me, with a name like Linley, I had an appreciation and love for unique (but not crazy) names. I also personally love boy names for girls and names that were interchangeable between sexes. For some reason Elliott for a girl just jumped out at me. So I suggested Mary Elliott. We immediately loved it. We'd say it over and over. We'd question if it was too much of a mouth-full to say, but decided we didn't care. We eventually said it enough and decided once we were married and had a daughter, it would be her name. And that was that. 

Before getting pregnant, I'd mention to Chris several times that I really loved the name Sadie. It's an older, but classic name. It's making a come-back, but it's still fairly rare, and my grandmother's name was Sadie. So it already had a special place in my heart. Chris on the other hand wasn't crazy about it, but he also never said he hated it… so I took that as a maybe-possibility that could eventually be considered. Especially if I continued to mention it… and I did. I'd always come up with combinations with the name Sadie. He'd brush it off, and I'd keep brainstorming. 

So then we found out our twins were girls. I remember driving home and starting a conversation about names. Chris expressed that he really loved then name Ann. I could just tell in how he was talking about it, that he really did love the name. I wasn't opposed to the name Ann, but I wasn't crazy about it either. I also had an exceptionally long list of girl names on my phone that I wanted to throw out there before anything was set in stone. I knew naming a second girl was going to be difficult for us. 

Then my water for baby A broke two days after finding out our twins were girls. 

We'd been in the ER about an hour and had no clue what the future held for us or our precious girls. We were battling emotions we never thought we'd have to face. I vividly remember some rare quiet time in the ER with Chris. He was sitting beside the bed, holding my hand. We weren't saying much back and forth, our tears were doing most of the talking. Then Chris leaned down to me and fought some serious tears to express an incredible idea. He asked me if we could go ahead and name the babies. He said if anything happened to them, they should at least have names. I began to cry at the sheer gesture of giving the babies names in such a situation - and could not have agreed more that this was the time to name them. 

I went ahead and addressed that baby A should be Mary Elliot - in fact, she became Mary Elliott in my mind the day we found out she was a girl. He agreed. Now baby B… Since our conversation about Chris' love for the name Ann, I knew it needed to be part of her name. I then considered a compromise - putting together the name Chris loved and the name I loved. I knew his reservations about the name Sadie, so before belting it out, I prefaced the name with the fact that it would be a compromise. And then I said it. Sadie Ann. I looked up at Chris. I saw tears in his eyes as he quietly nodded his head yes. 

That was it. On October 31st, our twin girls, baby A and baby B, received names.
Mary Elliott and Sadie Ann.
They are strong names for two strong, little girls. 

Journey to Baby: Sweet Success

Y'all… we are having TWINS! 

I have a lot of posts I want to share (that admittedly are not typed yet…) for you all to get up to date from our first visit with the fertility doctor back in May up to this point! I'm so excited to share the last couple of months of this journey and I promise I will share soon. 

These little miracles have me constantly tired exhausted and any free time I've had outside of work I've been sleeping. Like hardcore three hour naps in the afternoon - in addition to the ten hours I'm getting at night. So blogging, internet, cleaning, cooking, unnecessarily leaving the house, and life in general have not been happening; however, I'm 12 weeks along and I'm pretty sure (fingers crossed) the exhaustion is slowly lifting (and let's pray the nausea lifts as well)! 

I want to thank all of you who have reached out, shown your support, and provided prayers since I first shared our journey! They work! And God is good! For those of you still struggling, I hope my upcoming posts on how this happened gives you hope. Please know I pray for you all! 

Can't wait to catch you all up and start sharing bumpdates!