Suicide.

Every time a suicide happens with a celebrity, or suicide is brought up on the news or it's floating around social media, I am brought to an icky place in my memory. 
It lingers for a few days before I can really shake it. 

My Dad killed himself when I was just 4 years old. 

Hazel's age.   

He was heavy in to drugs and in a bad place in his life.  I'm told that he didn't see a way out and I'm told that he felt the lives of his children would be better if he wasn't a part of them. 

Maybe that's true. 
I can't be sure. 

But, what I know for sure is that I will never be okay with his suicide. 

I was 4 years old and have only one memory of my Dad. 
A memory that I'm not even really sure if it was him or not. 
I don't remember his voice or the way he smelled. 
I have no memory of him being with me or my sisters. 

I don't remember a thing.   

And yet, I'm still not okay with his suicide. 
 I'm mad at him for leaving.
 I'm confused that I don't have answers.
 I'm angry that I can't remember. 

Suicide is something I will never be okay with. 

And yet, I still have empathy for those who are suicidal. 

I hurt for them. 

For how lonely they must feel.
...and how terrified.
...and afraid.
 
To be suicidal, to me, means that you feel you have no other option. 
You are at the end of your limit. 
You can't see a way out.

 And that must be a horrifying feeling. 
That must hurt more than any other hurt. 

I've never been to that point in my life. 
I've never even come close to that. 
But if you have, I can empathize. 
I can relate, in a weird way. 

I have thought a lot about what my Dad must have been feeling in that moment.  And I don't want anyone I love to ever feel those feelings.  I don't want anyone I know or love to ever feel that alone, or afraid, or depressed. 

Reach Out. 
Call. 
Text. 
Come Over. 

I'm here, and I am not going anywhere.

Ava and Ellie's Birth Story

I had been having contractions pretty consistently for several weeks.  The doctor assured me that it was common and to rest, elevate and drink plenty of fluids.  If they didn't stop after I rested, then I needed to go to the hospital to be checked. 

The morning of March 15th, I was having pretty regular contractions that weren't going away.  They weren't extremely painful, but were consistent.  My sister drove me to the hospital while Caden was at work and they sent me home a few hours later with a diagnosis of Braxton Hicks.

Fast forward a week to March 21st.  Again, same thing.

My contractions began around 11pm and were pretty strong and consistent.  I sent my mom and sisters a text to listen for their phones through the night because my contractions were coming on regularly.   Caden and the girls went to bed and I stayed up and watched TV on the couch.   My feet were up, I was drinking water by the gallons and no signs of contractions easing up.  However, I wasn't having any pain associated with them and I surely didn't want to go to the hospital just to be sent home again.

2am rolled around and I was arguing with myself.  Was I in labor?  Was I just WANTING to be in labor?  Was it all in my head?  So, I got up and started walking around the house.  I did laps around my kitchen to see if I could break my water or maybe make the contractions stronger, looking for a sure sign of labor.   Also, I kept pooping often.  (Oops, TMI?)  I googled my symptoms and decided that maybe I was really in labor this time.

Caden had to leave for work at 6am, so I decided that if I was going to the hospital I had better wake him up before work.  I sent a text to my mom and sisters at 4am and woke up my kids.  

I said to Caden "Hey babe, I think it's showtime."  

He responded with "What does that mean?"  

And I said "I think I'm in labor."   

We got the girls up and dressed and dropped them off at my moms house and headed to the hospital.  We arrived at 0530.  I told them I thought I was in labor and wanted to be checked.  She slowly typed in my information, asking me my name and doctor.  She asked for my due date and I told her "April 12th, but I'm pregnant with twins so any day really."   She looked at me, looked at my belly and said "What?! You have twins in there?"  Her typing got MUCH faster and they hurried me back to triage to be checked.

At this point, I'm still not convinced I'm in labor.  My contractions were continuing and maybe a little stronger but I wasn't having any pain.  It didn't feel much different than a week prior and I was wondering if we would be sent home again.  The nurse said she was going to check my cervix and I was pretty certain I was still at a 0.   But, much to my surprise, I was dialted to a 4.

Yikes.

With my other girls, I dilated QUICKLY.  I go from a 4 to a 10 in a matter of minutes.   I started getting nervous because Baby A was breach and I didn't want her feet coming first before they had me prepped and ready for c-section.   

My mom arrived and the girls stayed home with my niece.  The nurse called the doctor and we got a c-section scheduled for 0730.  Caden called his parents, who were coming from St. George.   They had me prepped, IV started, antibiotics hung, medicine given and I was headed to the operating room.

When we got into the operating room, the anesthesiologist attempted a nerve block in my back.  First attempt didn't work, so second attempt was made and stuck.  My catheter was placed and we were minutes away from meeting our baby girls.

I remember feeling them stretch my stomach open and telling Caden that it should hurt.  I could feel the pressure of everything being moved around and stretched in order to reach our baby girls.  Baby A was out at 0748 and I IMMEDIATELY felt such huge relief.  I felt like I could breathe and my organs weren't stuck in my esophagus.   I looked at Caden and just kept saying "Oh my gosh, that feels SO much better."  Baby B was out just one minute later at 0749.

Caden went back with the girls and I laid there alone on the hospital bed.   

I didn't like being alone.  Not being able to see Caden.  Not being able to see our girls.  Not knowing what was going on.   I heard the nurse shout to me "Callie, Baby B is needing a little oxygen.  She's having a hard time breathing."  

Not my favorite.

But, Caden was with them and I knew they were in good hands.  

So, I laid there naked and exposed while they continued to stitch me up.

They finished stitching me and moved me to the labor room.  My mom and sisters were there and they brought me Ellie (Baby A) to nurse.   Ava (Baby B) stayed behind while they worked on getting her lungs breathing.  She needed a little suctioning and a lot of oxygen.  Caden came in to assure me that she was doing okay, and he continued to check on her while I nursed Ellie.  

I stayed in the labor room for a few hours and then moved to the post-partum room.   Ellie got passed around the room while I finished my makeup and waited for our photographer to arrive.  The rest of this is all a blur, and I don't remember much.   I got updates often on Ava, but still hadn't been able to see or hold her.  She was breathing well, but still requiring oxygen and had a little suction to her mouth.  

Caden checked on her every few minutes, like the good Dad that he is, and would give me updates on how she was doing.

After getting settled in and my makeup on, (priorities, right?), my mom left to get big sisters.   They arrived and immediately fell in love.  I wasn't sure how Oakley would react, and was worried she would feel left out or jealous of the babies.  Quite the opposite happened, and she was obsessed from the minute she saw them.  And actually, hasn't STOPPED obsessing about them.

Ava ended up having to stay the night in the TLC unit so they could monitor her oxygen.  She did fantastic through the night and was able to eventually come off oxygen completely.  She wasn't allowed to leave the TLC unit, so I kept Ellie in the nursery close by and would walk over every 3 hours to feed them both.  

Ava was able to discharge from the TLC unit in the morning, and she spent the next three days next to me in my hospital room.   I stayed Thursday-Sunday in the hospital and discharged Sunday morning.   I loved having alone time with the babes, and loved having visitors frequently all day long.   I ate my weight in french toast, bacon and blueberry muffins and downed the pebble ice by the gallons. 

We discharged Sunday morning and Caden took all 5 girls home.   

Babies are adjusting fantastic to life at home, eating every 3 hours and sleeping in-between.  

I still can't believe we have twins.  Or four kids.  

...and I feel so incredibly blessed.

Life is good.

God is good.