Updated: Mar 27
Welcoming the twin B's! Briggs and Breckyn Negley's birth story.
The night before the twins were born, we had gone to my parents house for dinner to celebrate me still being pregnant (ironic). We were all eating dinner when I started to feel pretty short of breath. My entire pregnancy, because of how high the twins were sitting, I had contractions in my diaphragm. So, instead of my stomach getting tight, my chest would get tight, causing me to feel short of breath.
I stopped eating and tried to relax, as I had just gone into labor 4 days earlier. I kept quiet about it because I had gone into labor 2 other times before this, so I was thinking it was just another false alarm. After dinner, we went home, put Brog to bed, went to bed- which, was on the bathroom floor. Since I was so sick throughout probably 80 percent of my pregnancy, I slept on the bathroom floor; it was the only place I wasn't in constant pain, and, being 32 weeks pregnant, I was measuring at 46 WEEKS. I was the size of a house.
I woke up at midnight to more contractions, these ones a bit stronger than before. Since it was so late, and having a sleeping toddler, I didn't want to wake anyone up unless it was legit, so, I laid there for 2 hours while my contractions were 3 minutes apart. Finally at 2:00 am I thought alright... these bad boys aren't chilling out, I should probably take them seriously.
At this point, I yelled for Jon, who came in panicked and disoriented. I told him that I thought I was in labor, his response "okay, but are you actually?" Dude, I don't know, but I guess maybe. Let me preface this by saying that people tell you all the time "you'll know when you're in labor." I can confirm that you definitely might not know you're actually in labor.
As I'm one who hates people focusing on me, I try not to make a fuss unless I know something is for real, so, I really tried to tough it out until I knew this time was different. As I call my mom, Jon goes to put clothes on. While on the phone with my mom, I could hear in her voice that she was nervous. She told me to bring Brog over so that we could head to the hospital, we couldn't risk not catching this early since I was only 32 weeks.
We grab Brog out of bed, put her in the car, and head to my parents. I kept apologizing for waking everyone, telling them how bad I will feel if this is just another false alarm. As soon as we get to my parents house, my mom comes out, grabs Brogan from Jon, kisses my forehead, reminds me that everything will be okay, then disappears back into the house.
This is where things take a turn for the "you're joking my ass direction." As Jon gets back in the car, he informs me THAT HE FORGOT HIS PHONE AT HOME. I stare him dead in his soul and ask him if needs it? "Yeah, because if this real I have to call my boss and tell him I'm not coming in." So, we head back in the opposite direction of the hospital to our house. As soon as we pull in, Jon jumps out and runs inside to get it. Mind you, I'm still in what I think is labor. Contractions are now 1.5 to 2 minutes apart. Jon comes running out, opens the car door, then turns and PROJECTILE VOMITS all over the bushes. I'm talking exorcist type vom. I've never in my life seen someone puke so forcefully so far like this. 7 TIMES. I'm literally just sitting watching this, thinking "what the hell is happening?" He gets in the car acting like he didn't just do that. I asked him if he was okay, his response "Yeah, I dunno, that was weird, I'm fine." At this point, I'm like "dude, I don't have time to worry about you , I'm in labor. Let's just both not acknowledge it again."
As soon as we show up I tell them I think I'm in labor at 32 weeks with twins and sit down, because at this point, I'm sweating with pain. They have a nurse come out and wheel me back to L&D and hook me up to monitors. They find both babes heart rates and start tracking my contractions. I am then informed that I am, in fact, in labor. I'm then asked how I want to get these babies out, natural or c section. My entire pregnancy I had planned naturally and with both babes head down my doc told me I would be a perfect candidate for it. I'd have briggs first then he would go in and grab Breck out by her feet. No joke. I asked them to check and make sure one more time that they were both still head down so I knew it was still safe. As soon as they pulled them up on the screen my heart dropped, Breck was sideways, which would make delivery extremely dangerous for her.
As they go to start an IV I turn and look at Jon to tell him to call my parents and the guy is straight up YELLLLOW. In all our years together I've never seen him look like this. So I ask "babe. are you okay?" once again he tells me that he's totally fine (even though he knows i know better). He proceeds to ask the nurses if theres a bathroom somewhere. I knew something was up because there was literally a bathroom in the room we were in like 4 feet from him. The nurse tells him "Yep just out around the corner!" and leads him there. As I'm sitting there, still having contractions, the nurse starts hooking up my fluids when we both hear someone violently vomiting. I can see her attempting to hide her smile but I couldn't keep it in and burst into laughter. The bathroom they took Jon to shared a wall with the room we were currently in, so we were blessed to hear Jon's second round of aggressive puking. God bless his soul. He comes back in the room with a smile and I ask him AGAIN "Are you okay?" looking for an actual honest answer I knew I wouldn't receive. Him again, "Yeah, why whats up?" Me: "Because everyone in this room just heard you barfing...." He goes "What, did you really?" Yeah dawg. We did. And all of the nurses giggled. One comes in with juice and crackers and says "You need to eat and drink this if we're going to let you into the OR." At this point I'm more concerned about him then myself and I slightly aggressively ask him "Are you going to be okay because if you're not, my mom is coming in the OR with me." I was too scared to go in alone. He says "Yeah, no I'm totally fine, its okay." I kept asking, "You're sure? Because I just heard you for the second time puking." "No, I'm fine. I don't know what that was. I'm okay."
Still to this day I laugh at the fact that half the nurses in the room were for me and the others for my yellowish green husband pushing fluids and snacks so he could keep it together.
At this point my parents show up. They look at both Jon and I and proceed to ask IF JON IS OKAY. Jon. The not pregnant one. That tells you how sickly this guy was looking. I ask one more time if he's going to be okay, because I did not have time to worry about him passing out while they're gutting me on a table. One more time he says he's fine. I then had to make the hardest decision, to proceed with the safest route for both babies. A dreaded c section. As they wheeled me back I could not stop trembling from fear. I couldn't believe we were about to meet our two little humans. I'd worked my butt off to be pregnant this long, I was so so excited to be done being miserable but also so so nervous at how big the babies would be, wondering if they'd be okay. If their lungs and brains would be strong and if they would be healthy. After they gave me my spinal they laid me back and I waited to start.
Being this pregnant, the weight of two humans sitting on top of me was unbearable. I couldn't breathe. I kept saying "I'm going to pass out, please I can't breathe." the nurses kept saying, "they're almost out, just hang in there a little longer." The moment they pulled Briggs out he immediately started screaming the sweetest baby scream I'd ever heard. They immediately rushed him to a warming bed, as he was too small to keep himself warm.
A minute later, our 3rd B was born, but made a quieter entrance. The moment they pulled her out I could finally breathe for the first time in months. I gasped a huge deep breath because I felt so relieved. But Breck didn't cry and refused to breathe, so they without me seeing her they had to immediately take her give her oxygen. I remember crying and asking if she was okay, concerned that she wasn't crying. Jon kept telling me "she's okay, they've got her Tay." She never ended up crying while at the hospital, she waited to officially cry weeks later. My quiet storm, that girl.
Once they were out, they were immediately taken straight to the NICU. Breck needed oxygen right away, while Briggs ended up needing it a little while later. I told Jon to go with them, I didn't want them to be alone without us. They hadn't ever been away from me and I wasn't going to let that start now. Then, my favorite doctor (who Jon knows I still have the hots for) came on the other side of the curtain and held my hand. He told me "You did good mama. They're beautiful." I had so many feelings: relief that they were okay, sadness that this stage of my life was over.
They finished sewing me shut and wheeled me into recovery, where they began to check my vitals. Going into surgery, my blood pressure was 103/60 but coming out of surgery was a much different story: 178/89. I apparently was a little more stressed then I thought. My whole body was still shaking from the adrenaline, so I asked for my mom to come in and hold my chest still so that the rest of me would stop shaking. At one point, the nurse asked me if I could wiggle my toes. I asked "are they wiggling?" she responded "no," to which I responded, " then no, I can't." My mom laughed, because duh, it was funny, the nurse, however, didn't even smile. Like, come on, that was a good one.
From the jump I had made it pretty clear that I wanted to breastfeed the twins, especially since they were preemies so I kid you not, within 15 minutes of me being put in recovery, a nurse came over and said, "alright, we're gonna start pumping!" Mind you, I am still laying flat on my back and can't feel anything from the boobs down. The nurse proceeds to measure my boobs, then straps a pump to me and begins milking me like a g dang cow.
At this point, they've decided I'm on the cusp of seizing from my blood pressure being so outrageous. They informed me that they will be putting me back on magnesium, which I had done 4 days prior to help the babies lungs develop, so I knew how awful this was. Right as they're hooking me up, Jon comes back and starts showing me pictures of the babies I had yet to meet. With both my parents now in the room, Jon smiles at me and asks if I wanted to tell my parents their full names. We had been holding out on sharing their full names, still one of the hardest things I've ever done. We then told them "Briggs Richard" (after my favorite guy I've ever known) Terry (after Jon's dad), and "Breckyn Pamela" (after my best gal in the whole wide world). My mom replied "really?!" and began crying. Exactly like I had hoped. If you know my mom and I's relationship then you know we're not ones to sugar coat things. I had told her a million times, "I don't know why anyone would give a baby the name PAMELA." I mean. It's the worst. But I'll tell you what people, I'd name a million of my children Pam if I knew it would mean as much as it did to my mom.
After that, the nurses told me that I would be confined to my bed with a nurse in my room every half hour for the next 24 hours, or until I was no longer at risk for seizures. This meant I would not be meeting my babies for 24 more hours! 24 hours that I could not see, hold, or hear them. I have never been so miserable in my life. From here on, Jon spent the day and night helping me pump and running the milk down to the NICU since I was so sick, I couldn't even hold my head up and was not allowed to leave my bed. Listen, high pressure situations are not Jon's strong suit, but damn, that guy's an amazing dad.
At 8 am the day after the twins were born, Jon wheeled me down to our babies' room and finally introduced me to our beans. I saw Briggs first who was covered in his bed with oxygen, IV's, and monitors, and I began to sob. I told him how sorry I was that I couldn't keep him in longer and how I needed him to keep working as hard as he did my whole pregnancy to stay healthy. Weighing under 4 pounds, he was skin and bones which made my heart ache to see. But, he had a head full of dark hair and was so chill. One arm over his head and his tiny legs crossed at the ankles, he looked like he was just chillin on the beach.
We then went to Breck's omnibed where I kept the crying train going. I told her the same things I had told Briggs. She was 4 pounds on the dot and had the sweetest blonde hair. My only blonde and slightly bald babe. As I stood and watched them that morning, Jon continued to tell me that I had kept them in as long as I could, but it still didn't make me feel any better. My tiny, tiny babes.
Now, looking back at how far they've come, I feel nothing but blessed with how easy we've had it. I remember the day the twins were discharged. As Jon went to get the car, another set of 32 weeker twins were being brought up. I remember watching the dad, standing there with the most concerned look on his face as monitors kept dinging. He was looking to see if anyone would come, not knowing that the monitors will ding non.stop. during their stay. I seriously wanted to hug him, thinking back to how scared Jon was on that first day when I wasn't allowed to visit with him yet.
We often get asked how we responded when we found out about the twins. The answer, I puked and cried. Jon just smiled and laughed, like he always does. The tech told us she would give us a moment. Jon looked at me and said "we can do this, it'll be alright." Because of course, he's an eternal optimist and I had already believed I was going to deliver micro preemies and probably die. We are complete opposites, and I guess that's how we work.
If you hung on this long, shit was wild! amiright?!?!