If my labor and delivery had a baseball-type trading card, the statistics on the back would look something like this:

Attempts it took to insert my first IV: 5
Hours it took to induce labor: 20
Hours of active labor: 15
Hours of trying to push out Baby A: 3
Number of monitors attached to me during said 38 hours: 3
Minutes it took my doctor to decide it was time for a c-section: 2
Days we thought we would be in the hosiptal following a c-section: 4
Days we were actually in the hosiptal: 10
Number of uterus infections I got during labor: 1
Number of people in the room during my c-section: more than 12
Number of babies born: 2
Number of days the girls were away from us in the NICU: 3
Number of days of IV fluids it took before the fluid began to enter my lungs: 4
Number of catheters: 3
Number of times I had blood taken: around 20
Number of chest Xrays: 2
Number of CT scans: 2 (one of my heart and lungs, one of my uterus)
Number of Echocardiogram: 1
Number of doctors and medical students on my case: around 15
Final diagnosis from said doctors: pneumonia and fluid on the lungs from too much IV fluids, plus uterus infection from labor and of course the c-section itself
Temperature I had to stay below for 24 hours straight before I could leave the hospital: 38 C or 100.4

So, hopefully the above list tells most of the story. Basically, being induced was a bad idea. Yes, it started my labor, but it took way too long and all that time on IV fluids was too much for my body to handle. The fluids entered my lungs and then I got pnemonia. I also got a uterine infection during labor, which had something to do with when Rachel's water broke. After 15 hours of active labor and 3 hours of pushing (with the help of many female residents who work for my doctor), the party was over when my doctor came to check on me. I was 10 centimeters dialated and Rachel's head was at station 1, but my doctor used the sonogram machine to see that Anya had changed postions from head down to transverse across my tummy again, she was having none of this pushing!!!! So, no matter what, Anya would have been delivered c-section.

The decision to have a c-section was made and I have to say I was relieved. After 38 hours of work, I was ready to see these babies. It only took about 10 minutes before I was in the operating room, completely numb on a a thin table with my arms strapped down. The room was beautiful, so bright and white. Above me were these huge sci-fi looking lights and I thought, that is so beautiful. I wasn't afraid at all. I was actually excited to be almost done. Sometime after the numbing was done, I began to shake. It was all over, shaking. This, too, I almost enjoyed. It was so much better than being strapped to that labor bed with all those monitors. The shaking made me feel alive and awake in that bright bright room.

They finally let Jeff in the room, all dressed in scrubs. With his little red glasses, he looked so serious and fatherly. He told me how he had met a set of newborn twin boys in the recovery room before coming to be with me. It must have been such a positive thing for him to see and he shared the story with such excitement. Before we knew it, I was opened up and I could feel them tugging at Rachel. After those 3 hours of pushing, she was deep in my pelvis. I could feel them trying to wiggle her out by her feet. And then she was out and I felt empty where she had been wedged prior. It felt like forever, but two minutes later, Anya, too, was freed from my tummy. Before her liberation, I felt them break her water, gushing fluid all over my insides.

It must have been 30 minutes before the scrub-clad team were done cleaning up the girls and brought them to us. They were red and puffy and smaller than I thought they would be. Jeff and I were shocked by their features, though. They had the most interesting little noses and the most petite little faces. They looked nothing like most newborns look. We were warned that most newborns look like wringled old men. But not these girls. Jeff said it first, I think. "They look like tiny elves!" he said. And they did and they do.

And that ends the most important part of my hospital stay. The arrival of my tiny elves.

Of course we were in the hosiptal for 8 more days, during which the girls went to the NICU to be checked for traces of my infection, none was found. But they were successfully taught to drink formula from a bottle during this time of course, something that I was instantly upset about. By day 3, the fluid in my lungs was found when I woke up at 5 am, not being able to breathe. Days of searching for heart trouble, blood clots and who knows what else pointed to pneumonia. All the while, Jeff and his mom and I had to learn how to take care of twins in a tiny hospital room, while I was hooked to oxygen and IVs and catheters, recovering from a c-section. It was stressful to say the least. People could hand me babies, but mostly I just watched from bed.

I left the hospital after 10 days, with a prescription for the strongest antibodic around, thus also with instructions to not breastfeed for two weeks. My girls were already having trouble latching on since they were so small and only 37 weeks gestation. Now, I had toxic milk to deal with. Breastfeeding is on hold for now, so I pump and dump every 3 hours and feed my babies this gross formula. Yuck!

We are home and everyday gets easier. Being sick in the hospital made it hard to bond with the girls, but now I find it hard to put them back in their crib after they have been fed and changed. I love to feel their soft little heads against my chest, just like in the dreams I had before they were born.