“Is there a history of twins in your family?” the nurse asked. I was 13 weeks pregnant and having my first scan. The question did not register with me at first as I had been nervous and was just so delighted to have seen the baby moving. My husband Jim understood straight away what the nurse was saying as he told me later that he thought he could see 2 heads during the scan. The nurse informed us that I must come back for a second scan at 20 weeks “just to make sure they are not fighting with each other!” she said. I had only one scan with my first child, Niamh, however with twins you get scanned more regularly. We went home and told all our family and friends our wonderful news.
We went to visit the consultant at 17 weeks and it was then she told us that the scan did not show up a Membrane. That is the divide between the amniotic sac and if not present means that as the babies grow they could get tangled up in each other which was dangerous. We would have to wait another 3 weeks for my next scan to confirm if this was the case. For the next 3 weeks we waited, worried and I prayed. It was from this time on that my pregnancy became a worrying time.
At 20 weeks we went back for my second scan and the good news was that the membrane was there, faint but there. It was then that the nurse noticed that the fluid around one of the babies was enlarged and one baby was weighing more than the other. A 3rd and 4th scan was organized and each time there was a noticeable difference between the babies weights with one baby weighing a third less than the other. I was referred to a twin specialist who informed us that one baby was getting a reduced blood supply while there was a possibility that the other baby may get too much of a supply, this was known as Twin to Twin transfusion. Regular scans followed to track the babies’ growth and progress. There was a strong possibility that the babies would have to be delivered prematurely. At 26 weeks I was given an injection to help develop the babies lungs in preparation for an early delivery. At every scan the good news was that each baby was growing but there was always the concern over the low weight of one of the babies.
At week 31 I was having my regular weekly scan when the nurse noticed that the smaller babies heartbeat was becoming erratic. The baby was obviously in difficulty. It was 2.30pm on the 8th June 2004. The consultant was called and an emergency caesarian section was decided upon. I had never brought an overnight bag with me for these scans as I always thought it was tempting fate but it looked like this time this was it. I rang Jim to get him to return to the hospital as he had left at 2pm when all seemed well to attend a work meeting. I was prepared for theatre and just about saw Jim for a few minutes before been wheeled away. Jim was not allowed attend as the situation was serious and unknown. I was given an epidural and the funny thing I can remember was that they let me keep my glasses on. All through the delivery I looked up at the sterile ceiling lights and as one tear trickled down my right eye I wondered what the outcome would be. During my pregnancy I did not wish to know the sex of the babies but did know that both babies were identical and therefore of the same sex. When the first baby was delivered they told me it was a boy and I remember thinking that premature boys tend to have a harder time surviving than girls. My first beautiful little boy, Aodhán, was born at 4.39pm weighing just 2lb 5ozs. My second beautiful boy, Fionn, was born a minute later at 4.40pm weighing 3lb 10ozs. I remember hearing them both cry which seemed a good sign and seeing each one for a fleeting moment before they were whisked off to the special care baby unit. I was brought up to my room and Jim was taken to special care where he was allowed to see the babies for a few moments. As I had just had a section I did not get to see my babies until the next morning. The nurses had kindly taken some digital photos of them both so I could look at them during that first night. We were told that the first 48 hours were crucial and we waited anxiously as tests, checks and scans were carried out. All that time it never seemed real and in my heart I had always though that everything was going to be all right. The first time I saw my babies it was quite frightening, they were so small, so vulnerable, so beautiful and already such survivors. They got through the first 48 hours and things were looking good. However nothing can prepare you for the roller coaster ride of having premature babies.
With such wonderful care, expertise and technology nowadays, people tend to think that if a baby is born too soon that it is just a matter of them spending some time in hospital. That is not the case, so many things can go wrong – breathing issues, feeding issues, infection, heart murmurs, to mention just a few. Two steps forward and one step back is how the doctors described it. The boys survived their first week of life without having to be ventilated and all was well. However, Aodhán got a blood infection in the second week and became quite ill. As he was recovering it was Fionn’s turn to become sick. He also got a blood infection and also became very ill. Thankfully they both weathered the storm and three and a half weeks after their birth they were transferred to a hospital closer to home. The boys underwent further tests, checks and scans and it was then that our world fell apart forever.
It was the 9th July, the day before my daughter Niamh’s 2nd birthday when we found out that Fionn had Cerebral Palsy. The day started like any other day, I was up in the hospital visiting the boys and the nurse said to me, “Anne-Marie, the doctor wants to talk to you later”. “Grand” I said casually wondering what she could want to talk to me about. The doctor came and together along with a nurse we went into a room where she gently explained to me that at some instance in time Fionn had suffered some damage to his brain. A scan had showed up white matter abnormalities – the area of the brain affected being the motor area which controlled movement and coordination. I listened numbly not really taking the enormity of the situation in. I rang Jim at work and he came to the hospital straight away. The doctor met with the two of us and it was then that the word Cerebral Palsy was mentioned. “What does that mean” I thought. Jim summed it up pretty well, best case was perhaps a weak arm, worst case was Christy Brown.
I cannot really describe how I felt that day/weekend. Numbness, heartache, sadness for the loss of a ‘normal’ life – Fionn’s and ours. The hardest part was that for 4 weeks we thought everything was fine. However, I am thankful for the quick diagnosis so that we could prepare ourselves for what lay ahead. Two days later Fionn had to go up to Dublin to get checked as he had a heart murmur. All was OK and as I put Fionn in the taxi to return to the hospital, Aodhán arrived by ambulance with a suspected hernia, which required surgery. Meanwhile my mother was taking Niamh to the GP with a very bad throat infection – I can tell you that that was the worst day of our lives. Aodhán was so tiny to have to undergo an anesthetic and I remember thinking that if anything happened to him I felt I was going to throw myself out the window. Thankfully Aodhán did not have a hernia and did not require surgery.
Eight weeks after Fionn was born we nervously took him home. He weighed 5lb 15ozs. A week later I took Aodhán home, weighing just 4lb 9ozs. I’d say poor Niamh didn’t know what to make of her Mam and Dad bringing home a baby every week! Life was very tough that first year. Fionn was very unsettled (he didn’t sleep a full night for two and a half years), both boys needed constant monitoring because of their prematurity and little Niamh was only 2 yrs old. I look back on that first year with sadness as I could not enjoy the phenomenon of my babies development. With Niamh I had took delight in her every milestone, with the boys it was just: let’s get through it. I recall attending St. Gerard’s Novena where the theme was a renewed heart and remember coming home to Jim and saying how can I have a renewed heart when the heart I have has been broken into a million pieces. I was and am heartbroken.
The boys are now three and although life is still hectic things have settled down – a little bit! I try not to look too far into the future, I do not yet want to think of wheel chairs, hoists, house adaptations, etc., etc. and I concentrate on all the wonderful little things Fionn has progressed in. There are still plenty of times when I have waves of guilt for not spending/giving enough time/attention to Niamh and Aodhán but I thank my lucky stars for the three beautiful, loving children and wonderful husband that I have. Fionn’s condition is severe, all four limbs are affected – he cannot hold anything, feed himself, roll, sit, walk or talk. He basically has the physical movement of a 3 month old baby. His needs are great – a lot of time is spent exercising him, developing his alternative communication skills and bringing him to his various appointments. It is a full time job and I doubt that I will ever return to the workforce. However, he appears to be a bright little boy who is very healthy, extremely determined and has a smile that would light up a room. Aodhán is nothing short of a miracle, very independent and is the comic in the family. Niamh is the bright spark, a dynamic, spirited and sensitive little girl who looks out for her brothers.
Having a child with special needs changes you. You mourn for the ‘normal’ life your child will never have and you mourn for the loss of a ‘normal’ family life. Your family life comes under so much pressure and is consumed by disability issues. It is stressful and very exhausting and the strain on your marriage can be immense. Alongside this you also have to deal with lobbying for better services for children with special needs and that adds to the sadness. Shouldn’t every child have the right to reach their full potential? At times you can feel quiet isolated, the forgotten ones, those left behind by the Celtic tiger. On the other hand, it makes you more sensitive to social issues – it pulls you out of the rat race and lets you become more aware of other peoples needs. The child with special needs is an individual in their own right, they should not be an extension of you or how you feel. If they are happy then you should be at peace. And that is what I pray and hope for going into the future – that all my children will be happy.
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