Congratulations to Brooke and Willis – for raising over $2000 for the TTTS Foundation with their Walk for Life!
Today I want to share another TTTS Tuesday story. I was just recently introduced to Bethany, and she wrote a beautiful piece about her sons, Braxton and Connor.
Braxton and Connor
My name is Bethany and this is my story I wrote for myself.
The room is dark and cold. As I lay flat on the examining table, I feel a sense of unease. Something is wrong and I can feel it. I can see it in their facial expressions, all of them. I turn to look into my mother’s eyes and verify that she feels it too. She grabs my hand. The doctors aren’t speaking. They are all just peering into the computer screen like they are searching for something. In this moment, seconds feel like minutes. I am consumed in my thoughts. Will I ever escape this agony of the uncertainty? What is going on? Why aren’t the doctors speaking to me? Are they okay? As I am laying there, completely vulnerable and afraid, my heart picks up its speed. My palms begin to sweat in my mother’s hands. Oh God, please let them be alright.
The doctor sits down and she motions for another doctor to turn on the lights. After she cleans my stomach, I pull down my shirt over my pregnant belly and raise up to a sitting position. When I finally look into her eyes, she doesn’t have to say a word because I already know. She speaks anyway. “Your babies have passed away.” With these words, my life was forever changed.
I can’t explain what happened next. All I remember is what I felt, and it was a lot. At first I was in shock. I remember thinking, Is this really happening to me? Am I having a bad dream? Will I wake up any second and this all just be a nightmare? The doctor spoke again and reality slapped me in the face. “You can deliver them today or in a few days, whichever would be best for you.” Deliver them! I was just told I lost my twins and now I have to give birth to them! She went on to explain that they were 5 months gestation so it had to be done. I had to experience my very first delivery of childbirth to twins whom weren’t alive. I was to go through labor knowing that I could not take them home with me. I wasn’t going to hear them cry as they came into the world. I was to give birth to two little boys and then bury them into the ground.
Once I processed everything into my mind, I became withdrawn. I withdrew from my doctors, my mother, even myself. It was like the life was just taken out of my soul. I completely shut down and stripped myself from any emotion. I don’t remember the walk to the delivery room. I was a ghost walking the halls of a hospital. Not one tear escaped from my eyes because I didn’t allow myself to feel. Looking back I think it was my way of protecting my sanity. The pain was too much for me to deal with in that moment. So I chose to suppress all of my emotions so that I could survive what was to come.
I don’t remember much about being induced. I don’t remember what was said among family or doctors in the delivery room as we waited. The pain medicine they gave me made me sleep most of the time. I faded in and out of consciousness. Every time I woke was a nightmare. I wanted so sleep forever. I didn’t want to deal with reality. I didn’t want to face childbirth of stillborn twins who I had just named Braxton and Connor the week before.
The last time I woke, it was time to deliver. My mother was right by my side and holding my hand again. They were born within minutes. I didn’t feel any physical pain because of the medicine. But the emotional pain started to slip right through that barrier I put up within myself and it was more painful than any physical pain I could ever endure. I did not hold them. I couldn’t muster the courage to even look at them. It would have scarred me more than I am scarred now. I could not hold my lifeless babies who I gave birth to. Just knowing that I could not take them home with me was enough torture.
After they were taken from me, I began to feel hatred for myself. I began to feel, period. The agony flowed through my being. I wept for hours. The tears could not stop. I was filled with despair and hopelessness. The anguish of grief I felt sent me over the edge and I lost all my faith in God. My soul surrendered to waves of despair. I became numb. In other words, I felt dead.
Three days later we held a beautiful graveside funeral for my boys. After it was over I felt like everyone was moving on with their lives but for me they were all I could think about. I even dreamed of Braxton and Connor in my sleep. I went through a major depression. The medicine my doctor prescribed me didn’t help so I quit taking them. Not many people know this but I attempted suicide. When I failed, all it took was one look in the mirror. I looked myself in the eyes and heard a voice saying “You are going to be okay.” I believe that was God talking to me. From then on, I still struggled but I vowed to myself that I was going to brave every day in a positive manner.
Six months passed and I became pregnant again. I was so afraid the entire pregnancy. I didn’t want to lose another child. I dreamed of horrible things that could be wrong with my child and had nightmares of delivering my baby under horrid circumstances. Anything and everything that could go wrong, I worried about. I was still a very sad person and cried almost every day I was carrying my baby.
On January 9, 2011 I gave birth to the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. From the moment I heard her cry for the first time I fell in love. When she was placed in my arms I wept happy tears and could not take my eyes off of her. As far as I was concerned, she and I were the only ones present in the world. Just her and I, with me locked in a wondrous gaze down at my little miracle. I named her Mallory, and she saved my life. She brought back all my hopes, dreams, and faith. Once again I heard that voice, “You are going to be okay.”
Nine months later I became pregnant once more with another baby girl. Those same fears had returned. The doctors reassured me that she was fine the entire pregnancy, however I still had my doubts. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I just couldn’t afford to. Unless you’ve experienced the loss of a child, it would be difficult to understand the pain.
On March 11, 2012 MaKaya was born. As soon as I got to hold her, she peed on my arm. It made me laugh and cry, because I knew she was okay. After she was bathed we got to feed her. But something terrible happened. She got red in the face and couldn’t breathe. She was rushed to the nursery as I lay there helpless. I couldn’t move because of the effects of the epidural. I started to panic. The nurse calmed me down by reassuring me she was still alive and okay. She had a bowel loop in her intestine and had to stay in the nursery for 24 hours. Words cannot express how much I longed to have my baby with me. Once I got her back, I was so happy.
I now have two beautiful daughters with so much spunk and personality. They are funny, smart, and so sweet. I know I am truly blessed to be a mother. From time to time, I still am reminded of my twin boys. I imagine how old they would be, what they would look like and how they would act. It makes me sad to think of those things. I still struggle with depression to this day. I try my best not to let my children see me when I cry. I don’t want them to see me as a sad person. I want to be strong for them. But even I have my weak days.
I know that everything happens for a reason. I believe I lost the twins because God wanted me to grow and learn from it. I am a different person now than I was then. I believe I have a greater appreciation for life and everything that happens. One of my life motto’s is “Search for the rainbow after every storm.” What this means to me is that I should look for the silver lining in every bad situation I am thrown into. There is always a positive, you just have to believe in it and search for it. Life is a beautiful, magical thing. The saying, “Don’t forget to stop and smell the roses” is about the best advice anyone could ever give. It’s the little things in life that mean the most. Sometimes we get so busy with everyday life that we start taking things and loved ones for granted. We need to remember that our lives are a special gift. We need to stop worrying about growing old, because that is a privilege denied to many! The last thing I want to say to anyone reading this; live well, love much, and laugh often.
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