Big twin, little twin
Both twins amazingly survived!
Friday 17th October 2008
My husband, John, and I stared at the pram, the price tag dangling from the handle, and burst out laughing. We'd bought it the week before in the sales. At half price, it was a bargain.Now…
'It's useless!' I chuckled.
'I know,' John, 29, grinned.
We were in shock, you see. I was 12 weeks pregnant, and a few hours earlier, we'd discovered I was carrying twins. Two of John's three older sisters had twins, and my grandma had given birth to twins too. But we'd never even considered the tradition would be passed down to me.
To think, just three months earlier, we'd been considering fertility treatment after discovering I suffered from polycystic ovaries. But just two days later, I'd had a positive pregnancy test and, now, our disbelief had doubled. Over the following few weeks, we returned the single pram and bought a double buggy. My mum, Christine, 58, and stepdad, Chris Garfield, 55, called for updates after each scan. At 21 weeks, we found out we were having a boy and a girl. They were growing at different rates. Our daughter, on my right side, was bigger than our son, on my left.
'They don't seem concerned, though,' I added.
'Good,' Mum said.
She was so excited, she splashed out on a gift. A 4D scan of the babies. I'd seen the adverts in the back of pregnancy magazines. These scans were amazing, like watching the babies swimming around on TV.
'Thanks for this,' I grinned, hugging her as she accompanied John and I to the private clinic.
We'd named the babies by then. Harriett and James. I was excited about seeing them in such detail, but first, the nurse had to take a load of measurements. Finally the 4D images flashed up on screen.
'Wow!' we all gasped in unison.
There was a jumble of legs and arms. A nose, then an ear…
'It's so amazing,' I gulped.
Afterwards, the nurse told us there were some measurements she'd been unable to log, but after a second go, she still looked puzzled.
'Can you come back in an hour?' she asked. 'I'd like the consultant to see you.'
I didn't know what to think, but later that afternoon, the consultant came straight to the point.
'Unfortunately, the blood flow to James's cord is absent,' he told us.
The doctor explained that every time my heart beat, a small amount of blood was pumped through the cord, but not enough. It was stunting James's growth. The situation was likely
to deteriorate. He could suffer a 'reverse' blood flow, when it would stop altogether and he'd die within hours.
'I'm sorry,' the doctor said.
Numb, we shuffled back to the car and, as John started the engine, I burst into tears.
'Why did this have to happen to us?' I sobbed.
'I don't know,' he whispered.
He had no answers. Back home, neither did Mum, just lots and lots of tears. Later, I snuck upstairs to the half-decorated nursery. We'd started to paint the walls a cheery yellow. John had built the dresser drawers, one of the cots and was halfway through building the second. Now, I placed the twins' 4D scan pictures on the dresser and backed out of the room. I vowed I wouldn't go back in until I knew Harriett and James were safe. But what were the chances?
Two days later, I was hoping my own doctor at Queens Hospital, in Burton-on-Trent, would give us hope. Instead, his words filled me with dread.
'You can just leave it and see what happens,' he began.
'Or…?' I asked.
'We can give the smaller twin a lethal injection,' he explained. 'You'll have to carry him to full term, but it'll give your daughter a greater chance of survival.'
I could read John's mind. How could we kill our little boy with a lethal injection? It was horrific.
'I won't hurt him,' I whispered.
'I know,' John agreed.
Our decision was made. We had to give both children a fighting chance. But returning home, I felt useless. As James's mum, all I wanted to do was help him. But what could I do? Nothing. Or so I thought… It was Mum who had the idea.
'I bought you these,' she said, on her next visit.
She was carrying a handful of Mars Bars — my favourite chocolate.
'Why?' I frowned.
It was sweet of her to think of me. After all, I did love chocolate. But it would take a bit more than a sugar binge to brighten my mood.
'It's not for you!' Mum protested. 'It's for James.'
For a moment, I thought she'd gone mad. Was she worried her grandson would die and she'd never get the chance to buy him treats?
'He's fighting for his life. He needs energy,' she explained.
I couldn't help but smile.
'You might be right,' I said.
Ripping open a wrapper, I took a large bite of chocolate.
I had two more Mars Bars that day. When I told John about the plan, he thought it was a great idea. From then on, he bought me a Mars Bar every day on the way home from work. And I made sure I bought a bumper pack whenever I went to the supermarket. I guess I just needed to believe I was doing something to help my little boy. But guess what? It worked, I swear. When I ate chocolate, Harriett gave me a strong kick on my right, then I'd feel James faintly wiggle on my left.
Those movements were reassuring, but terrifying, too. I'd time their frequency, and if I hadn't felt James wiggle in a while, I'd panic. Had he died? Had I lost my little boy before I'd even met him? I'd started maternity leave early, but I couldn't rest. Then there were the endless scans. I'd been warned there was a 25 per cent chance James's problems were caused by a chromosomal disorder like Downs or Edwards syndrome. But tests came back negative. My son was healthy, just very small. In fact, at 25 weeks, while they estimated Harriett weighed 2lb 1oz, James was half her size at 1lb 2oz.
'Hold on,' I begged him, scoffing another Mars bar. 'Please hold on.'
And he did. At 28 weeks, I was given a shot of steroids to strengthen the twins' lungs.
But the following week, at yet another scan, disaster.
'I'm sorry,' our consultant said. 'James blood flow has reversed. He's not getting blood through his cord.'
James was still alive, but they didn't know for how long. We were faced with a decision.
Let James die, giving Harriett a better chance of survival, or have a Caesarean and pray they'd both be strong enough to pull through.
'I'm not choosing one,' I sobbed.
There was no room for us at the neonatal unit at Queen's Hospital, so we were transferred to the University of North Staffordshire Hospital, 30 miles away in Stoke. As I was being prepared for theatre, I wondered if I'd made the right choice. What if I'd just condemned both my children to death?
'Everything's going to be OK,' John whispered, as I was given an epidural.
Within a few minutes, I heard what sounded like a kitten's meow.
'Your daughter,' a midwife smiled, letting me glimpse her briefly before she was whisked off to intensive care.
I waited for James's cry. Nothing. They quickly wheeled an incubator up close, but I couldn't make out my baby amongst the tiny, white towel they'd wrapped him in.
'Just help him,' I panicked.
Harriett was just 3lb 4oz, but James was a tiny 1lb 8oz. Later, John visited them, and took pictures on his digital camera. They were in separate incubators so you couldn't compare sizes. But James was translucent to Harriett's pink, his tiny ribs jutting out. I was terrified for him. Why had I convinced myself a few chocolate bars would save his life?
As it happens, four hours after their birth, it was Harriett who was in trouble. Struggling to breathe, the doctors were forced to ventilate her.
'We'll lose them both,' I wept.
'It'll be OK,' he promised.
But the next morning, when I saw the twins, I wondered how something so small could ever survive. And if Harriett was struggling, how was James going to pull through? By day five, Harriett was off her ventilator. By day eight, we were able to hold the twins for the first time.
'I love you,' I wept as I cradled their delicate little bodies.
That same day, they were put into an incubator together and, as they reached out and held each others' hands, I just knew they'd be OK. At seven weeks, weighing 4lb 8oz, we took Harriett home. Two weeks on, at 3lb 7oz, James joined his sister. Now, they're nearly 18 months old. Their development is behind other children their age, but that's normal. They'll catch up in their own time. Harriett is a whirlwind of energy, but James is a lot calmer. He sits back and watches, and is super protective of his sister. I'm so lucky to have them.
I can't believe how close we came to losing them. And, nonsense or not, I still like to think that it was Mars Bars that saved them.