Updated: Apr 4, 2021
Photo Credit: Jessica Hoskins
My pregnancy was perfect. Great heartbeats and nothing to be concerned about. I was gaining weight, despite having pretty serious nausea—but that comes with pregnancy, right?
Everything else was great and I was trucking along. Each week I felt closer and closer to my babies, and the excitement kept growing. Planning their room, making the baby registry and thinking of baby names. We were looking forward to so much.
During week 18, I went in for a regular ultrasound just to check on the babies. Everything was great, and my provider told me she would be able to tell the babies genders if I wanted. Obviously, I did! She wrote them down, and I took the Post-it all the way to my husband's work (WITHOUT LOOKING) and we opened it together! TWO BABY GIRLS! Over the next few doctor appointments, everything was fine. I'm serious, it all looked great. There were no concerns at all.
On October 31, I wasn’t feeling well. I went to urgent care and they did a COVID test plus some other tests. I had lost my taste and smell, and had some other symptoms that were related to COVID, so I was thinking that had to be it.
I had gotten the dreaded virus. I had to wait on my results.
Fast forward to Monday. It was about 11:30 a.m. and I called my husband at work. I couldn’t breathe. I could not catch my breath. He came home from work and took me to the ER. I spent the afternoon into the night at the ER, alone, because of COVID regulations. I received a rapid COVID test, and it was confirmed. Positive. I was worried about the babies, but was reassured everything was fine. They monitored me for a few hours and then sent me home.
I was not able to go to my scheduled prenatal appointments over the next few weeks because of testing positive, but I was assured that unless I was bleeding or having contractions I was fine.
And then it began at 27 weeks pregnant with twin girls.
On the night of November 12, I could not sleep (which is not out the the ordinary for me.) I could not sit still. My stomach was cramping and I was Googling all the things. I was convinced that I was having Braxton Hicks contractions. I tried eating pretzels, getting up and walking around, and even taking a hot shower at 2:00 a.m. Nothing worked. I started tracking my “cramping” and it was pretty consistent—every eight minutes or so. We called the doctor and she sent me to the ER.
In the early morning of November 13, around 3 a.m., we headed to the hospital. I still did not even think for a minute something was wrong. I honestly thought I was going to be put on bed rest. We got to the hospital and the first thing they saw on my chart was COVID POSITIVE. (I was on my LAST day of quarantine) But seriously, the hospitals are like the TV shows for COVID regarding the gear I had to wear, and they had to wear, and even the room they put me in.
Around 3:30 a.m., the nurses came in and were searching for heartbeats. They had put the contraction monitor on my stomach too. They tried one heartbeat monitor, which didn’t work. Then another and nothing. Then they asked for a doctor, but honestly I couldn’t tell that they were frazzled, and I still didn’t think anything of it.
The doctor came in with a BIG machine. She put it on my stomach and was searching. Nothing. Nothing was there. No sound. No colors (for the fluid moving around the babies.) Then she said it. The words that will forever be in my mind over and over. “I’m sorry, but I believe that your babies have died.”
She said, "I will have the ultra sound lady come in to confirm, but I wouldn’t say it if I was not pretty certain."
I cried. There was still a “little” hope that the other lady would come in and she'd be wrong. But she came in and she wasn’t wrong. It was confirmed. Our baby girls were gone.
Around 4:00 a.m., we called our parents. We barely had time to process, but we had to tell them our baby girls were gone. We did not have any answers and did not even know what the next steps were.
When the doctor came in next, my husband asked, “So does this mean we are going to have the girls today?” She said yes.
"You mean we came into the hospital this morning, and now we are going to be delivering our girls?" She asked about pain medication and an Epidural, but honestly I had not even thought that far into my pregnancy.
She then explained that my body had realized our girls had passed away, and it was starting to put itself into labor.
At 4:15 a.m. the nurses began sticking me with needles, trying to take my blood and get an IV for pain medication. None of the needles were going in. (side note: I HATE NEEDLES. So it was a GREAT time.) They tried to stick an IV in me four times unsuccessfully. The anesthesiologist even came in to help, but my body was deflating my veins every time. They said they would try again in a few minutes.
Around 4:30 a.m., I had just finished having a contraction and I went to the restroom. Honestly, I just wanted to go in there to get away from everyone. There were so many people in the room and I just wanted a minute alone to try and process all of it. I sat down and suddenly felt a TON of pressure.
I yelled to the nurses and said “GUYS!" and they immediately went into action. They knew what was happening and I just started crying. I screamed “I’m scared. I’m so scared.” Here I am about to deliver my two baby girls with no medication, knowing nothing about birth, and my girls who have already passed away.
Around 4:45 a.m. our girls were here, and in heaven. Three pushes later, I had delivered Hadley Jean, Harper Ann, and both placentas. I had no medication. No time to process. No mom. No nothing. I could not believe it.
They laid the girls on my chest, and my husband and I just cried. They were beautiful. They were precious. They are so special. I was in amazement that God had created those little beings inside of me.
Later that day, our parents were all able to be at the hospital to spend time together and with the girls. I am so grateful for this because at first they were not going to be able to. The joy I felt when my momma got to hold my girls was one that I will never forget.
Thank you @jesslynhoskins for sharing your story. Shared with permission. To read more of Jessica's story, visit her website purposedpain.org
Coping with the grief of pregnancy loss can feel impossible and isolating. Surviving the Unimaginable is a guide to surviving loss, told through the voices of loss parents with the help of a clinical psychologist.
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