Tuesday, March 31st

We began another day in the hospital.  We got no sleep thanks to a continuous change of antibiotics during the night.  I was showing no signs of labor, thankfully.  The high-risk doctor came in again and told us the same things he had said before-we should be glad it had been 24 hours but we weren't even close to being out of the woods.

I looked up success stories for dealing with prom.  I knew part of it was really bad for me to look things up, but it was my only defense against this horrible situation.  There is hardly any information out there on this.  My favorite website is:

It has lots of stories about prom and it is color coded, so you know that the green ones are success stories, and the blue ones are not.  I found out that a lot of times doctors urge you to terminate the pregnancy.  I was thankful this hadn't been brought up, and part of me knew that it's because it becomes a lot more complicated with TWO babies.  I learned there are hardly any risk factors for this.  The major one is smoking, which I have never even taken a puff of a cigarette in my entire life and have been a total freak about going anywhere where could even be a little bit of smoke.  Mainly, the only risk factor I had going was that I had multiples.  

One of Brian's aunts came to visit this day, and she had a son born at 24 wks like 22 years ago.  Hearing these stories are amazingly helpful.  I know that the NICU has come a long way, but it's still terrifying.  The worst part is that a baby isn't even considered viable until 23 weeks, which seemed like an eternity from that point.

The days seemed very long as I just laid there, waiting.  I paid attention to every little flutter in my stomach, they took my temperature and listened to the babies heartbeats at every shift change and each time I prepared myself for the worst.

We celebrated 48 hours and couldn't believe how lucky we were.