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We know the drill. Hudson told us long ago that twins always get delivered in the operating room, even if they come vaginally. There’s always a chance the second one will turn breech or develop a situation where they need to convert to a C-section.
Asher leans over and kisses me. “You ready?”
Tears flood my eyes. Tears of stress. Tears of anticipation. Tears of hope.
I nod. “Can you call everyone and let them know what’s happening?”
Two nurses come in the room and start unhooking me from all the stuff I’ve been tethered to for the past nine hours. There’s a lot of activity and all the lights are on, but Darla is still sleeping. Lucky duck.
“Better wake her up or she’ll miss the big show,” I say.
A third nurse enters and hands Asher two sets of scrubs. Not all hospitals require dads to wear scrubs for a vaginal delivery in the OR, but this one does. Luckily, he won’t have to wear a mask—unless I do end up having a C-section—because I want to see every emotion on his face the first time he holds our children. I choke up even more at the thought of it.
Normally the hospital doesn’t allow more than one family member in the OR for a twin delivery. But Hudson pulled some strings, and we got approval for Bug to attend. The second set of scrubs is for her.
Asher looks around the room. “When we come back to this room, we’ll be a family of five.” He almost falls onto the chair next to the bed. “Oh my god, this is really happening.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen hesitation on his face. As if he’s just now realizing the scope of the situation.
I clutch my belly, feeling a buildup of pressure. “You think?”
He stands confidently, pushing aside his own feelings or fears, strides over, and pulls my hand to his lips, kissing it. “We’ll see you in there,” he says, as my bed gets wheeled toward the door. “I love you.”
I crane my neck. “I love you too.”
My bed is pushed down a long hallway, through two sets of double doors, and then into a very cold, very bright, sterile-smelling operating room. I’m asked to scoot from my bed onto another—the OR table I presume, although it’s been modified for a vaginal birth.
I shiver. “It’s so cold.”
“Sorry about that,” a nurse says. “I’ll get you a warm blanket.”
As people shuffle around me, I glance around the room. There are two infant warmers, tons of trays of various instruments, and lots and lots of people. Hudson warned us how crowded the room would be. There is a nurse assignedto me, and two more for the babies, a neonatologist, an anesthesiologist, and a surgical scrub tech on stand-by. I’m surprised there’s enough room for Asher and Bug, who are escorted in moments later wearing full scrubs and hats, masks dangled around their necks just in case.
While Darla seems interested in everything going on around us, Asher’s eyes are laser-focused on mine. “You doing okay?”
I shrug. “It’s not exactly the intimate birth experience I’d hoped for.”
He laughs, finally looking around at all the commotion. “No, I guess it’s not.”
Hudson comes in the room, all doctored up in scrubs, a scrub cap, and a mask, looking ready for anything. “Let’s get started,” he says, taking a seat at the end of the bed as the nurse helps situate my lower half.
In going over my birth plan, I’d stressed how I despise stirrups. Hudson said they wouldn’t be necessary unless he needed to increase medical intervention. Meaning if there was a problem and he had to use forceps or vacuum extraction. He has the nurse move the stirrups aside as his gaze sweeps across Asher and Bug. “You each want to take a leg?”
Bug steps back. “Um… I’m just here to watch, not participate.”
Hudson chuckles and motions for the nurse to step to the side opposite Asher.
“Are you feeling pressure?” Hudson asks, looking at one of the monitors. “It looks like you’re having a contraction.”
I nod.
“Okay, go ahead and push.”
I bear down and give it my all. Then I do it again. And again. And again. It seems like hours pass, but I’m sure it hasn’t been that long.
“How much longer is this going to go on?” I ask, feeling completely exhausted.
“Not long. I can see the top of Twin A’s head,” Hudson says. He motions to Asher. “Want to take a look?”