How to forget all the important memories.

              The day we went to the hospital for our 20 week ultrasound with our second pregnancy was the day we discovered we were having twins. Hannah and I were both in shock, but I was forced to retire to the waiting room with a rambunctious Caleb while Hannah visited with the doctor. We expected them to tell us all kinds of horror stories about different birth defects because the doctors were convinced that Caleb had Down’s syndrome while he was still in the womb. We didn’t expect the doctor to treat us like sub-par human beings. Both the technician and the doctor observed a few anomalies that raised concern so they were obligated to bring it to our attention. The doctor informed Hannah of her concerns ‘in case we wanted to terminate the pregnancy.’ There are those moments in a marriage when your spouse is faced with a situation and you are powerless to do anything about it. This was one of them. I didn’t even know what was occurring since I wasn’t in the room. There are also those moments when you feel so compelled to be a savior only to be confronted with the reality that you married someone far better than you. Hannah informed the doctor that we didn’t care if everything imaginable was wrong with our children, we were having those babies.

             

                I was proud of the way Hannah handled the situation, the doctor was disappointed. She said, “Oh, you’re one of those parents. Well, I have to inform you of all the options regardless.” She spent the next few minutes informing Hannah of what a living hell our lives would be if we chose to keep the babies. To this day I still think about sending a Christmas card every year with a picture of our little boys who weren’t worthy of life on that day.

                At the time I was serving as interim youth pastor at Hannah’s home church. I was also overseeing their college ministry and the children’s church program and a Sunday morning prayer ministry. I also had a full time job which required me to be at work at around 5 each morning. At one point I was teaching 7 or 8 Bible studies a week and working 40 hrs at my regular job. Hannah was trying to manage a 1 year old little boy and a high risk pregnancy. Her doctor was worried about a few of the same things that concerned the ultrasound doctor, so she had Hannah on a home monitor that she plugged into the phone several times a day to send information to the hospital for review. We also had to make the 1 ½ hr drive once a week to the hospital for another ultrasound and visit with the doctor. And that’s how it went for next 3 months or so.

               

                When Hannah was approaching 30 weeks the complications started to get a little more serious. Twin A (Andrew) was receiving all the nutrients while Twin B (Joel) was practically starving. The doctor ordered Hannah on home bed rest. You can imagine how well that worked given our situation. It was approaching summer and I was trying to finalize plans for the youth ministry for the summer, camp, mission trip, etc. Finally at 32 weeks the risks were high enough that the doctor ordered Hannah admitted to the hospital for bed rest and constant monitoring. In the final week before the birth Andrew gained 1 full pound and Joel gained nothing. Hannah was on medication to prevent pre-term labor while they administered the steroids that help the lungs of pre-term babies develop. I pretty much abandoned everything at home (job, ministry, everything) in order to spend as much time with Hannah as possible.

                There are many things that happened in that time frame that I have no recollection of at all today. Because we were so busy I was sleeping about 3-4 hrs a night and we’ve since learned that memories are formed during sleep, so if you don’t sleep enough your brain can’t effectively form your memories. The day that the twins were born was not one of those forgotten days. Hannah’s doctor was out of the country adopting a little girl so we were stuck with the b team. We hoped for a natural birth but the complications were severe enough that we knew there was a good chance that the boys would be delivered via C-section. They had taken her off of the labor inhibitors and let nature take its course and finally on June 11^th, 2004 Andrew and Joel were coming to meet the world whether the world was ready for them or not.

                They took us to the operating room as a precaution and preparation for the likely surgery. I am usually very aware of everything around me. I can listen to two or three conversations at once. I can keep tabs on most people in the room and still manage a reasonable amount of focus. That morning in the operating room I was completely dull. I remember sensations and feelings more than details. There were over 20 people in the room not counting Hannah and me. Each baby had a team on standby for their birth. I lost sense of everyone and everything in that room except for Hannah. The time came and she was pushing. I was holding her hand and whispering in her ear, “You can do this. Push. It’s going to be ok. God is in control. I love you.” I just kept repeating those phrases over and over. Some woman, I have no idea who, was standing on the other side of the table screaming in Hannah’s face, “PUSH! GET ANGRY! GET MAD! PUSH!” I still stood whispering in her ear, “You can do this. I love you.” The lady spit in my face. It was awkward.

                Andrew was born and quickly rushed off to a table for the post-birth inspection stuff. Joel wasn’t so eager to make his appearance. He was breech, but because he was so small, the doctor decided to go ahead and chance it. Hannah pushed again and almost immediately Joel was born and rushed off also. Screaming lady had calmed down a bit and was now offering herself congratulations for such a superb coaching job. Hannah was lying there in that state that only women immediately after childbirth experience listening for the boys. I was a little more aware of the situation by this point and I knew I could not hear Joel crying. Hannah realized this after a moment and started to worry. She asked me if he was crying, if he was breathing, if he was alive. I did the same thing any good husband would have done in my situation; I lied right to my wife’s face. Andrew had started crying again and I said, “Listen, there he is. He’s fine.” Honestly, I didn’t know if he was OK. They rushed them both out of the room before we even got to meet them. It was several hours before we were able to go to the special care nursery to meet Andrew Josiah and Joel Abner Tate. It was a wonderfully miraculous day. Andrew was 5lbs 1oz and Joel was 3lbs 2oz that day. We couldn’t hold them yet. It was an experience like no other to watch our little boys lying there in their little glass bubbles just trying so desperately to live. Those days helped to redefine my view of life and love.