The four of us slow dancing in the maternity ward…

3 years and 1 month, and tomorrow, and the day after….

It has been that long since I gave birth for the first time to Leon and Blue Sky.

From the first scan this pregnancy was a surprise when we first found out there were two in there. Then that they were identical and then that they were boys. All of this was unexpected. I even thought we were having girls. So after all was known we chose names for our boys and I remember saying –

“I expect anything from this pregnancy”. But I said it with confidence that the next surprise would again be a good one and all would be well. I would not dare to think that something might go wrong.

And nothing was wrong. My pregnancy was beautiful, I felt grounded, less anxious, more happy. I slowed down and I enjoyed the pampering and making thorough future plans.

And I didn’t read anything about bad outcomes because this was not my case.

I remember in the last weeks of pregnancy I asked to see the maternity ward, to have a look at the room I would be giving birth. They showed me a bigger room since they are twins but it looked very serious, no butterfly drawings on the walls, no colours. I asked ‘why is that?’ and they said not all pregnancies and births have a happy ending. And I thought again “ Ah I get it , so sad but this is not us”.

At the very end of the pregnancy having passed the risk of TTTS and other complications , the obgyn said. “The chances of something going wrong in your case is close to zero.”

I never felt so sure in my life that everything will be ok. What was left to do was pack my bag, pick the first clothes that my boys would wear and wait for the big moment which would end with the four of us slow dancing in the maternity ward.

I was terrified about giving birth of course. The indescribable pain and how I was going to keep doing mindfulness meditation/ breathing to work through the pain.

But I kept this picture in my mind. The four of us slow dancing in the maternity ward. No matter what, that would have been the end of beginning a life as parents.

In those days of checking off the last things in the list, the house looked ready, two little beds in the living room, all clothes washed and folded, bags were packed and I was sitting on a big bouncing ball with the balcony door open. Summer morning sun in the kitchen and a few minutes later my waters broke.

I went back to this room I visited earlier. This time was my turn. Labour started, pain kicked in while oxytocin was increasing and I was begging for an epidural. No mindful breathing, no chakra visualisation, just raw pain I could not escape from.

I finally calmed down and even fell asleep, my family visited me in the room and everything was going towards the slow dancing moment.

It was time for the first baby, Leon to come out, but it took so long…

When he was born, the doctor said “ He is very pale” ( I hate this word now ) and they took him away.

“Where was this moment of skin to skin contact for the first time I was told too?”

Another baby was on his way, it took less time and there he was, not crying just being very quiet, curled up on my torso as if he had witnessed something sacred and unspeakable.

And then I had to go for an operation because of blood loss. I was very calm and it was the first time I had anaesthesia. When I woke up, they gave me a popsicle to help with nausea and finally I thought it was time to meet my boys.

I was told immediately, you have to go to the nicu, your son is not ok.

To this day I cannot believe what followed after that.

Passing by corridors at the hospital, I found myself in a room where my son was, tiny and exhausted, unable to move, waiting for a miracle.

No miracle came, after trying what I now know was bringing him back, believing that it would work since doctors were suggesting to talk to him, laying his brother next to him, someone said the word CPR, and that was when I realised that this is the end of it. Performing CPR to a new born baby, in what reality?

Life as I knew it ended that day and I couldn’t watch.

I was screaming NO, holding both my babies and in absolute shock I had to continue.

We found ourselves in the hospital room, The three of us not the four of us, not slow dancing.

We have danced a lot since then (the three of us in our living room) and we cried a lot more and every day we retry and figure out how our life is and will be without our beloved amazing Leon.

I long for meeting him in my dreams.

Leon, my Leon I sing for you.
Leon, I sleep with you.
Leon, my heart to you.
From mommy

“And still every day you find a way for me to say that we can make it through
All my love for two I’ll share it with a soul that looks like you”
Lyrics from a song written for Leon by his daddy.