I was 22 weeks and 6 days pregnant with fraternal twins when my life changed forever. I had developed a very large hematoma, which triggered preterm labor. That night, there was a terrible storm, and I couldn’t be life-flighted to the nearest big city hospital. Instead, I had to travel in an ambulance for nearly two hours, praying that my babies would hold on.
The doctors told me that I needed to make it until midnight — until I reached 23 weeks — before they could attempt any life-saving measures for my twins. They explained that if I delivered them in the ambulance, there would be nothing they could do except keep them comfortable. I remember every minute of that ride, holding onto hope and fighting for my babies with everything I had.
I fought through labor for 12 long hours. When we finally arrived at the next hospital, I was devastated to hear that I would actually need to make it another full week before they could provide medical help for my babies. My heart broke.
At around 3:30 in the morning, I delivered my first twin, my daughter Genesis. She was so beautiful and perfect — she lived for just 6 precious minutes before her tiny lungs could no longer keep her alive. I held her close as she took her last breaths. At the same time, I delivered her twin brother, Augustus, who had already passed away in my womb only minutes earlier.
Genesis weighed 1 pound 2 ounces and measured 12 inches long. Augustus weighed 14 ounces and was 11 ½ inches long. They were so small, yet so perfect in every way.
That day was the hardest of my entire life. What hurts even more is knowing that what my doctors had said was “normal” for multiple pregnancies turned out to be the very thing that caused me to lose them.
My babies were born on February 11th, 2021.
They will forever be 23 weeks old.
Though they were only here for a short time, they will always live on in my heart.
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