This is my first post in quite sometime. I could list all the boring reasons of how busy life gets or how I just couldn’t find the time. I won’t though. I will say what got me writing again in so long, other than missing it so! Is to honour my little guy turning 6 on Friday, April 14th. Pre warning, it is a long one.
When I first found out I was pregnant in August of 2010, both myself and husband were beyond ecstatic. I didn’t think it would be easy for me to get pregnant being Hypothyroid, I thought that it would take months, maybe years before I would carry a child. To find out the test was positive was a shock and joy! We shared the news with our closest family right away, because we just couldn’t wait and we wanted them to share in the excitement that we were feeling.
Early in my pregnancy I started to have cramping and spotting, I didn’t think much of it and I stayed positive, but that spotting quickly turned to heavy bleeding and even more cramping. I remember I was at work, at work! Not even at home with my husband. I was at work and ran to the bathroom where I was curled up in the stall crying from the pain and trying to call my husband repeatedly who was not answering the phone. He couldn’t hear the phone because he was with his daughter (my step daughter) at the CNE. I kept calling and calling, with no luck. My friend at work got in a cab with me to get me home as I kept calling. I finally got a hold of him and I told him he had to come home, to which he said “we just got here”. I think I swore…like a lot…and told him if he didn’t come home now he would be single. I know what I saw in the toilet (sorry for the graphic image) and my heart was broken. I was literally sobbing uncontrollably.
Fast forward to more hospital visits and hearing from doctors that my blood work was coming back positive and the pregnancy hormones were going up. I was prodded and poked so many times, I was tired and stressed and anxious all the time. I finally demanded more tests be done. I will never forget what happened after the lengthy ultrasound at Women’s College Hospital. I was waiting to see the doctor to go over the results, he walked in looking anxious and worried. I immediately felt even more anxious and stressed. I grabbed my husband’s hand and the doctor said the following words:
Dr:“You lost one of the babies”
Me: raised eyebrows.
Dr: “you didn’t know?”
Me: “know what?”
Dr: “You were pregnant with twins but one did not make it”.
I laughed, because I honestly didn’t know what to do. I looked at my husband whose face was in shock.
Dr:“yes, you were pregnant with twins, but you are not anymore…if you see here (points to ultrasound) you can see the empty sac”
Me: “Are you sure?” because clearly he is wrong right?
Dr: “Your baby who is still there is fine”
Me: TEARS!!! I was crying for my baby who was ok, I was crying for the baby I didn’t know I had and then in less than a second was taken away from me.
Let me say this now, nowhere in either family are there twins. Not my mom’s side, not my dad’s side, not my husbands family. We would have been the first. What I did find out is that women 35 and up release a plethora of eggs, who knew?! Let that be a lesson to you women out there.
What did I learn from going through a miscarriage of a twin? Nobody gives a shit. Seriously. Not one shit. Zilch, zero, none. I heard so many times “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy” “it wasn’t meant to be” or the best “well you didn’t know you had twins” or “You didn’t plan on twins” Who the H plans on a multiple pregnancy? I mean I used to joke when I was younger that I wanted to be pregnant with twins to get pregnancy over with once, but come on! I wanted to scream to everyone to shut the F@*k up! I lost a baby, a baby, gone. I literally had a miscarriage in a bathroom stall at work not knowing what to do. I spent the rest of my pregnancy on edge. I found out I had ovarian cysts, and fibroids & all kinds of craziness. Despite that, I was told that I had the most boring pregnancy from a medical standpoint.
I kept my feelings under wraps because it was clear to me people just didn’t care and felt that I shouldn’t be sad because I was still pregnant. I literally made myself numb over the whole thing. April 13th (my due date), I didn’t know it, but I was in labour. I had intense contractions all day yet I still walked to my OB appointment and walked home. Those who know me and know how fast I walk should know it was the slowest walk of my life, I should have known what was coming. My husband came home early from work with a migraine telling me “you better not go into labour tonight”. He basically willed it to happen, I mean come on. I went to bed after having a piece of toast for dinner because I just wasn’t hungry. I remember waking up thinking “I should keep track of these contractions”, because at this point it was clear I was having crazy contractions. I closed my eyes and then it happened. My water broke just before 3am on the 14th, and I jumped – well it might not have been a jump being 9 months pregnant- out of bed and woke up my husband as I started freaking out that it was really happening. You know those courses they advise you to take, to teach you what to do and how to breathe and all of that? Well it was clearly a waste of time because my pain went from a 7 to 1,000. We called our parents to let them know it was going down – no pun intended, and headed to the hospital. Did you ever watch that show, The Baby Story on TLC? Where they follow couples as they are about to give birth, during the labour etc? Did you ever see the episodes where the women are moaning in pain? Well I did, and I laughed at them thinking they sounded ridiculous. Well karma slapped me hard in the face and there I was moaning and crying from the pain. I thought for sure they would tell me at the hospital that I was 7 cm dilated. I was 2…2…2cm!!! I said I needed something for the pain to which I was told they can’t give that to me until I hit at least 5cm. That is when I started puking up the toast I had the night before. I finally got an epidural. Sidenote, no matter how much pain you are in you are asked a boat load of medical questions before they give you the epidural and ask you to sign the papers. Through my pain I asked why my husband couldn’t do it for me…they were not impressed. I scribbled my name and was told to remain still. Yeah, like that is possible when you have a human inside you trying to get out.
Fast forward to when I was told I needed an emergency C-section because my son was facing the wrong way and his big head was not fitting, so he was freaking out. I was ok with it, it just meant that I would be able to hold him sooner. He was crying when he came out, I was crying, I still don’t know what my husband was doing but I swear he wasn’t crying and the vision I had of him holding and kissing me did not happen. I will never forget the moment they put him on my chest. I said, through slobbery tears “hi there buddy”, and he instantly stopped crying. He was good, he was better than good. He was perfect. Brady Walker Davidson was born on Thursday, April 14th 2011 at…..shoot….I am not sure what time. When he was born I looked at the clock in the operating room and it was stuck on 7:30 with the second hand trying to move. The doctor said to me “sorry, the clock isn’t working but it is blah, blah o’clock” I am positive it was around 12 sometime.
I spent many days for the first few months hiding my tears and my anxiety. I didn’t want to admit it but I was going through postpartum depression. I was also still dealing with the pushed aside of emotions of losing Brady’s brother or sister. We spent so much time cuddled together, or taking walks. When it was just him and I, I felt amazing because I could be me and he didn’t judge me, not once. When other people came around I would plaster on the fake smile and pretend I was this perfect new mom doing it all. I never sought professional help to talk about my depression, I think I just dealt with it and got through it with the help of Brady. Of course I still to this day am filled with guilt and questions of what I could have done differently.
A couple of years ago Brady asked if he would be a big brother and I started to cry. I told him about his twin and how I believe with all my heart that he has his own guardian angel always looking out for him. Then I found out about the “Rainbow baby”: A “rainbow baby” is a baby that is born following a miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death or infant loss.In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. It is even more meaningful because if you ask Brady what his favourite colour is, he says the “the rainbow, I like all the colours”.
So here he is, my little boy who is already starting to not look like a little boy. He is 4 feet tall, his feet are almost the same size as mine, I know that doesn’t mean much with my petite feet, but he wears a size 1.5. He has long, skinny legs, a mess of dark brown hair that I comb everyday and it never looks the same when he comes home. He plays basketball, T-Ball, he snowboards, he’s with me and cheers for the New England Patriots & tells people Tom Brady won the superbowl 5 times, he loves to read, he loves superheroes and lego, he is my biggest cheerleader when I race, he is a strong swimmer and doing amazing in swimming, he runs too! He has run a few 1km races and a 5k – that he ran in 39min! He will be doing his first triathlon this summer. He has the most insane memory and remembers even the smallest details on things, he’s in SK and reads at a Grade 2 level, he loves math, science and wants to be a pilot when he grows up, despite being told he’s colour blind. He is certain by the time he gets old enough he will be fine. He also wants to learn how to scuba dive when he’s older. He’s obsessed with Curious George and has to watch it everyday before bed. He also loves the Wild Kratts and can tell you anything you want to know about a variety of animals, he loves New York City! We went in May of last year and he had the best time walking around the city, riding the subway and spending time with my brother and sister in law. He loves his Uncle Jonathan by the way! He is funny and sweet and loves to cuddle and shower me with kisses. If he sees me crying he will wipe away my tears and hug me. He can drive me crazy with how stubborn he is, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!
Here he is, this perfect little boy who teaches me everyday more than I can ever teach him, who inspires me everyday to be a better person and who I am so lucky to have. Without him knowing it, he is helping me heal the hole in my heart that has been there since I lost his twin.
Happy birthday buddy, I know your brother or sister is with us celebrating too.