Chapter 12 - Twins...

“You’re having twins.”

Silence...

     "Twins? Like two babies?”

     “Yes.”

Silence...

     “Cool. You’ll deliver them at home—right?”

     “Wrong. You need to go to the hospital to deliver them, but I would be right there. 

Silence...

     “I’m not good with anybody else taking care of me. I only want you.”

     “Right… Well, I will take care of you during your pregnancy, but a doctor will need to assist you at the delivery. Trust me. I don’t have enough experience with twins.”

Silence...

More silence...

     “Okay. For you, I’ll do this.”

     Pat lived at the end of a dirt road in a little cabin. She and her partner were miners. They lived a very simple life.  With her garden she ate well, She spent most of her time outdoors, and she was radiant and healthy throughout her pregnancy.  She carried her babies to term, and four days before her due date, she went into labor.

     As pre-arranged, we drove in tandem to the hospital. I was more than a little nervous about how she would do. She had a primal distrust of doctors and medical institutions.

     In the labor room the nurse proceeded to ask Pat some routine questions. She refused to answer her. “Pat, the nurse needs some information from you,” I coaxed.

     She looked me straight in the eye. “I said I would come to the hospital. I didn’t say I would talk to anybody but you.”

     Oh boy, I thought. This may not go well… “Well,” I said to the nurse, “It seems I may need to speak on her behalf.”

     The nurse shook her head, incredulous. "She doesn't talk, and... she has a tan ALL OVER HER BODY!”

     So it went… The hours passed. Her muscular body was strong and powerful. She labored on her hands and knees in the bed. Eyes closed. Focused. Hips swaying.

      “Ask her to turn over so I can hear the heart beats,” said the nurse.

“Tell her no,” Pat whispered to me. “She can listen to them this way. I can’t move right now.” So, it continued…

     Finally, in the delivery room—on the bed—she easily pushed out her first son. The second boy was breech, but before they could intervene and try to turn him around, she whipped over onto her hands and knees on the delivery table and effortlessly pushed him out, butt first. The doctor’s eyes bulged out over his mask. He shouted, “Turn her over right now,” as he twisted the baby around her legs. “This is a first,” he muttered and glared at me.

     After the babies were checked out, they put them on the gurney with Pat as they wheeled her back to her room. As she scooted over onto her bed, they took the babies into the nursery.

     After some time passed—worried—Pat said, “Where are my babies? Ask them to please bring me my babies.”

     I came back from the nursery. “The nurses said they are cold and must stay under the warmers,” I explained. Pat leaped from her bed and ran into the nursery, pushing her IV pole ahead of her. A fierce mother bear on the prowl… “Of course, they’re cold. They are just lying there with no clothes on. Give them to me. I’ll put them next to my body. I can warm them right up. Why are they in two separate rooms? They need to be together. Please give me my babies.” She was frantic.

     The nurses wouldn’t respond to her. She asked me, “What are my rights here? What can I do? My babies should be with me. I’m their mother.” She looked at me, dismayed.

     “Well, Pat,” I said, as I nervously cleared my throat, “You have three options. You can go along with everything that they believe to be in the best interest of your babies. You can keep trying to negotiate with them until you both are satisfied. Or…you do have the right to sign them out of the hospital, AMA—Against Medical Advice. To do that you need to feel beyond a doubt that this is safe, and that you will not be putting your babies at risk. You understand, I cannot advise you to do that.”

     She walked back into the nursery to talk to the nurses. Soon she was back. She took out her IV. Proceeded to get dressed. Brought out her homemade baby clothes and blankets. Went into the nursery. Dressed her babies, and walked out. Just like that.

     “Thank you for helping me get my babies born,” she said to the staff. “But now I must make my first decision as their mother. They need to be together, at home with their parents. I will watch over them as carefully as a hawk. They will be fine. I know this.”

      That would probably not have been my decision, but I trusted her maternal instincts, and as their midwife, could respect their right to do what they felt was best for their babies. I visited them every day. Turns out this little quiet family, tucked away in their warm cabin in the mountains, WERE fine. Perfect, in fact…