The Story Continues...

 Look at that feisty baby.  Ain't no staph infection gonna stop me.  Look at that IV in her tiny hand!

 Obviously, I was doing everything in my power to not have my face in this picture.  haha!  Raychel was very sweet.  She was stroking Anna's head saying "shh, shh."

 Anna being held by GG.  This is the day I was released from my MRSA hospital stay.  Anna got to come home that same day!

 Leah joined us a few weeks later.  Here is Leah with GG.  Raychel's exact thought: "Oh, hell. Not another one!"

 I put this picture in thinking it was Leah...nope, it's Anna.  I can only tell because of the cannula. 

Leah: contemplating life's mysteries.  

I thought I might as well finish Anna and Leah’s birth story while I was at it.  You know, James and I can’t do anything the easy way…especially when it comes to having children.  Once the twins were delivered, we figured our time in the hospital and NICU would be relatively short lived.  I mean, they were chunky 5 pounders!  I stayed the usual 3 days in the hospital, and I was pretty anxious to get home to be with Raychel.  I was released on Mother’s Day 2006…how ironic.  I’m going home, for the second time, empty handed.  It was a little depressing, but it was business as usual for us.  Ha! 

We got home, and I started doing laundry.  Poor James.  I am the worst patient in the world!  Even my mother-in-law (who says nothing bad about anyone) said I was “difficult” when she came out to “babysit” me while on bed rest.  I can’t help myself; forced sitting is absolute torture.  Luckily, my dear friend, Jamie had stayed while I was in the hospital.  She kept the house nice and clean for me.  My parents brought home Raychel (they had been at church), and she got to witness the breast pump.  Hahaha!  I still have nightmares about that Medela pump.

So, we had to establish a new routine.  It was challenging  “back in the day” (I.E. 1 year earlier) to visit just one baby in the NICU.  Now we had to balance care for a toddler and make time to hold and cuddle two babies.  By the end of the first week home, I was feeling miserable.  Basically, I was so sore everywhere.  Could not stand up, constantly tired, it was all I could do to pump.  Thankfully, my mom would run the milk up to the babies for me when she got off work.  I know that was a huge sacrifice for her, even though my milk was “poison” (as I learned later).  She would also go and say hi to the girls for me.  I was so glad they were at least getting a little taste of home. 

A day or two later, I got a call from the NICU telling me that Leah was extremely sick, and I needed to get there right away.  They thought she might possibly have NEC, and they were doing tests to confirm that.  I got to the hospital, and they told me she did not have NEC, but they had no idea why she was so sick.  She got a blessing, and we just waited helplessly.  Anna was doing great.

The next day (or two) later, it was confirmed Leah had MRSA in her blood stream.  What the heck is that?!  Six years ago, it was still relatively new and unheard of outside of the hospital setting.  Basically it’s a terrible staph infection that required intravenous antibiotics to treat.  They had to do a spinal tap on Leah to make sure the infection had not spread into her nervous system.  Here was my fragile, fresh from Heavenly Father sweetheart getting poked and prodded and pricked.  I knew she was hurting and I was completely helpless.  I was unsuccessfully trying to hold myself together and not look like a total blithering idiot.  As I was stroking Leah’s little head full of black hair, I happened to look up at Anna over in her isolette.  All I could see were these tiny little black eyes blinking looking over at Leah through the clear plastic crate.  It was as if she was saying to Leah, “Hang in there sissy.  Every thing will be ok.”  That was one of those sweet moments I remember very vividly.  (On a funny note…knowing Anna’s personality today, I’m sure she was saying, “What’s going on?  What’d that doctor say?  "Why is she so sick?  Just tell me guys!”  She’s my nosy girl.  She’s gotta be up on all the gossip.)   

Right away, she and Anna were put in “isolation”, and the fear was planted in us.  MRSA is extremely contagious, be very careful, wash everything etc.  Remember how I mentioned I was sick?  Well, I kept feeling worse, but I just chalked it up to the fact that I was stressed and it was physically making me sick.  Later, my chest turned bright red, puffy and inflamed.  It was hot to the touch and very painful.  Diagnoses: mastitis.  Ok, that’s really common right?  I can deal with this. 

THEN Anna started getting sick…bloody stools.  She had MRSA in her intestinal system!  Turns out my milk was MRSA infected, as was my body.  Poor Anna had been getting MRSA milk.  AGHHH!  No wonder I felt so awful. 

Six years ago, the only way to treat MRSA was by intravenous antibiotics.  That meant I had to be readmitted to the hospital in isolation.  I know nowadays, they have some powerful pills that can be prescribed.  I opted to be admitted in Carson.  I felt it would be easier for me to be a little closer to home and I needed to see my Raychie girl.  If you’ve ever had MRSA, you’ll know you’re treated like a living, breathing biohazard.  People are suited up and masked up to come and observe you.  Mentally, I know I’m a danger to those around me, but my feelings were tender and sensitive (AND I had all those just-gave-birth hormonal issues).  I felt dirty, and I had done nothing to cause this to myself.  Not to mention I was still bloated like a freaking balloon from #1 giving birth to twins and #2 the preeclampsia.  Basically, I felt gross.  That’s the best word I can think of. 

Once all the “excitement” had calmed down, and I was in the room alone, I let the emotional dam break.  Here are a few of my intimate thoughts: Hello, WHY couldn’t I do this “giving birth” thing right?!  I suck…my babies are all alone in the NICU, and Raychel can’t even come and see her mom.  I was exhausted, sick, and hormonal.  Not a good combo.  I was beginning to see the vancomycin was like acid dripping in my veins.  It was very uncomfortable when being administered.  I felt such an intense yearning for my tiny girls who were being given the same medicine as me.  I was so sad for their little frail bodies having to experience all this unpleasant CRAP when they were so new on Earth.  In my unstable frame of mind, I called the NICU to check on the girls.  The good thing is the NICU is open 24/7, and the nurse taking care of the twins was usually bored senseless (since they were in isolation too) so they were very willing to chat.  There were so many sweet nurses who volunteered to take the girls…I can only imagine isolation for 12 hours is not high on anyone’s list of favorites.  After learning all was well at the hospital, I hung up, and boobed some more.  Some words of one of my favorite hymns entered my mind. 

He lives to comfort me when faint.

He lives to hear my soul’s complaint.

He lives to silence all my fears.

He lives to wipe away my tears.

He lives to calm my troubled heart.

He lives all blessings to impart

(Hymns 136)

I love the poets of these hymns.  The way they can put words together is just remarkable and totally inspired.  These few, simple sentences spoke volumes to me that night in the hospital.  The Lord cared.  Because of His sacrifice...the atonement...He was the only one that could literally lift my burden and take away the despair I was feeling.  He was the only one that knew my thoughts and feelings the way I was experiencing them.  He knew because He had endured it for me.  My fears were silenced, and my troubled heart was calm (Well, I was at least able to "get a grip". haha!). 

I sometimes feel guilty talking about all my “hard times”.  I know others have endured much worse.  When I talk about my trials, I’m sure someone might give me an eye roll with the response “Girl, you think that is bad?  Listen to this…”  BUT we all have times when we feel as though we are drowning, when we’re overwhelmed, when we feel hopeless.  It’s all very personal and individual.  I’ve learned that the Lord is there to lighten the load for everyone…no matter how “big” or “small” the tribulation.  His promise is true,

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yolk upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls.  For my yolk is easy and my burden s light.

(Matthew 11:28-30)

That doesn’t mean our hardships are gone with the snap of a finger.  I had to “do my time” with the vancomycin, the NICU, and the preeclampsia bloat.  However, it was (and is) a blessing to know I have the Lord next to me lightening my load.  We are never alone in our struggles.