Nine years ago, to our surprise and delight, we discovered that we were expecting twins. As we sat through our anatomy scan at 18 weeks, I remember Nick reassuring me that my unexplained anxiety was because of all we see as nurses in the NICU, but I knew there was something wrong.
The technician left at one point and was replaced by a doctor. It was at that moment we sensed something. We were led to a quiet room down the hall from the excitement of the pregnant waiting room. We were told gently the reality that one of our growing twins would be born “incompatible with life.”
Twin A was healthy and thriving. Twin B had cysts around her kidneys, so her lungs would never be able to properly develop. Twin B would be safe in utero while connected to me, but I was her lifeline; she wouldn’t be able to take her first breath, as her lungs would be far from healthy or functioning.
Life became complicated overnight. We were met at home by family and friends, trying to soften the blow, loving and supporting us. I embraced the love and cried openly whereas my husband shied away from the attention and tried his best to stay busy.
Together we chose to not do any medical interventions. Both twins would continue to grow, as would our attachment to them. We tried to not watch Twin B on ultrasounds to lessen the attachment, but it didn’t take long to realize that was impossible and the love was already there for them both.
At 32 weeks, I was hospitalized with preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome. Daily blood work, check-ups from nurses and doctors, and blood pressure measurements brought our girls, Olivia and Riley, to 36 weeks gestation.
I went into labour the day before a scheduled c-section. They put in an IV, and within moments, I started to deteriorate quickly. I was going into congestive heart failure and had developed pulmonary edema. The medical team pulled me through so that I could remain conscious to hold Riley, a gift I can never express sufficient gratitude for.
After the girls were born, we stayed in a bereavement suite and had family and friends come to meet Riley. We are so grateful for everyone for being part of that moment, despite their own fears and lack of comfort in that situation. It was truly amazing for us to be so embraced in love and support.
Riley was baptized and spent the day with us. I wish I wasn’t in a medical fog during those precious moments with her. Anyone that has lost someone wishes for more time, and I just wish for less foggy memories. She died shortly after. We went home with her twin sister Olivia and our deep grief.
Waiting on Sunrise 