Chapter 3 - TWIN B
Labor and delivery moved faster than emergency rooms in movies ever do.
People surrounded me.
Hospital gown.
IV.
Fetal monitors.
Ultrasound.
Dr. Rachel Carlson was not on call, but the obstetrician there, Dr. Emily Ford, knew my chart electronically within minutes.
“Twin A is cephalic.”
“Head down?”
“Yes.”
“Twin B remains transverse.”
I squeezed the bed rail.
“My water broke.”
“We know.”
“Can I deliver?”
“Maybe. But I’m concerned about Twin B’s tracing.”
The monitor dipped.
Recovered.
Dipped again.
“What does that mean?”
“He’s having decelerations.”
“Why?”
“Could be cord compression, position, labor stress. We need to watch.”
Another contraction.
I cried.
Not gracefully.
“What do you recommend?”
Emily looked at me.
“Given gestational age, twin presentation, rupture of membranes, your blood pressure, and the fetal tracing, I recommend cesarean delivery.”
My heart dropped.
I had hoped to avoid surgery.
Barbara had used that fear for months.
Hospitals cut women open.
Doctors rush twins.
Your body knows what to do.
Now I looked at Emily.
“Is this because it’s easier?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Can I wait?”
“You can ask for more information, but I do not recommend meaningful delay.”
I looked at the monitor.
Another deceleration.
“Do it.”
Nobody celebrated my choice.
They moved.
Consent.
Anesthesia.
NICU notified.
Two teams.
I asked:
“Can Richard come?”
The words escaped automatically.
Emily paused.
“Do you want him?”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
May you like
It hurt to say.
But no.
