as it turns out, charles was up in k10 visiting the babies.

he came back just as the nurses were getting ready to lift my head for the first time following the caesarian. my throat was dryer than ghandi’s sandal, and i was gasping for a drink of water. they allowed me a mouthful of icechips. a nurse was holding a bedpan around my neck, and i can remember thinking as they raised me: i am not going to vomit, i think i will be okay.

and i didn’t vomit.

woo-hoo! i was batting two for two. i knew i was in labour, and i knew i wasn’t going to vomit. practically a doctor.

my incision and the numbness around that area wasn’t bothering me as much anymore. the incision was painful whenever i moved, but if i stayed still, thanks for mr morphine, it wasn’t that bad. but my throat was so sore, and i was coughing up this red goo that i think they stuff down your throat during surgery. and of course moving my stomach muscles was excruciating. i was trying to push down the cough, or just cough a little, but it was impossible. there were big coughs wanting to come out.

i was hallucinating about drinking water. a cold glass of water.

please, may i have something more to drink?

no.

please? i won’t vomit!

maybe a few ice chips.

and charles fed me ice chips.

he had been to see the babies.

are they okay?

yes.

is it two girls and one boy?

actually, yes.

i was glad about this. it was a safe conversation. because we didn’t have names for girls. nothing concrete, anyway. so i hurriedly focused on what we were going to call the girls, and which boy’s name – gus or jasper, we were going to choose.

but quickly, reluctantly, because i was aching to know but i didn’t want to hear bad news, i asked, how are they?

as good as can be expected. stable.

oh okay.i don’t want to hear any more.

and the name debate started.

we knew we liked the name carys. but which girl would get it? it wasn’t like we could look at the girl and see if the name suited her….

are they all covered up in tubes and wires?

sure

are they warm?

yes, they’re under the biliruben lights.

oh. let’s not name them just yet, okay?

we were told the babies had a 60 per cent chance of survival. i didn’t want to name the girls, that would make them more real. if they died, i felt it might be easier if they were nameless. i didn’t know. i just knew i was calm, and needed to stay that way. the precipice between this serene state and the jagged fears was closing in on me. more drugs, please.

we changed the topic and he started listing names of people who were praying for us.

soon enough, it was visiting hours, and while charles went up to the NICU ward to visit the babies and to take pictures, friends stephanie and jane are at my bedside. i had told stephanie to spread the word that i didn’t want flowers. flowers are associated with funerals and babies…and at this time, the two were linked together enough in my mind. and also, flowers are associated with joy…and i had no joy in my heart.

but jane had brought flowers. and she arranged the pretty blossoms for me, and hugged me and prayed for me, as did stephanie. and denby, a good friend of stephanie’s, mother of g/g twins, who is also becoming a good friend of mine, called from australia. i was calm, telling her i had done all i could, and it was in God’s hands now. she was crying, and agreeing with me, and told me God loved them, no matter what.

while stephanie and jane sat with me, dale waited outside. (max: two visitors). dale and stephanie. charles had called them when it had been determined that i was going into labour. her cellular phone wasn’t on. eventually, she answered, and she and dale ran from the shop they were in, and took a taxi to the hospital.

they arrived shortly after charles had witnessed the following:

a guard blocking off three of the six elevators.

a ten minute wait and then

a doctor and three nurses whisking a white bassinette on wheels into the elevator. one nurse was bagging whatever was in the bassinette.

the elevator doors closed.

repeat.

repeat again. except the baby is not being bagged. was it dead?

just as the door closed, my mother called charles, and asked him what was going on. he said i just saw the babies being wheeled into the elevator, i don’t know what’s going on with tess…

how are you, charles?

and he burst into tears.

well, our friends dale and stephanie are coming over to wait with me.

mum was so grateful, and later on, so was i, that charles didn’t have to be alone.

do you know anything about the babies?

i don’t know anything!

well, when you saw them, could you see..

i don’t even know if they are alive!

minutes after hanging up with mum, d&s arrived. and as dale gave him the hug we all wished we could, charles started crying again.

they prayed.

they waited.

dr cora emerged, said they were waiting for me wake up, that the casearean had gone well, and that the babies had been taken upstairs. their weights were very good, she said. right what a singleton’s would have been at that gestational age. to have three that weight was a real accomplishment. that was all she knew. charles was welcome to go upstairs, to k10 where the babies were, a pediatrician could best answer his questions.

another doctor left, and upon being asked by charles the babies gender, started the two boys two girls myth.

but that was all cleared up…and the first day of the babies lives was drawing to a close.

stephanie and jane kissed me one last time.

charles returned from the nursery. he had pictures.

i wasn’t ready to look at them.

i had read in books, and i knew from the encouragement pictures we had on our kitchen wall how big the babies heads were, how long their feet. i couldn’t face an emotional rush, right now i was operating best drained and calm. those babies would rouse love, protection, guilt??? i couldn’t look at them.

charles fed me ice chips. he told me that he had told the nurses to call baby boy (triplet one) jasper, as we agreed.

and suddenly, i was ready to look at the pictures. (1st pic Jasper, 2nd Sela, 3rd Carys) thankfully, the digital screen was small, i dont’ know how i would have reacted if they were larger pictures that indicated how tiny the babies were, how frail looking, how wet, red and sore looking their skin, how tightly the ventilators stretched their little mouths. but you could tell they were babies. barely. you could tell they were human forms under machines.

we prayed, i probably complained, and i took drugs, had my blood pressure and temperature checked, talked to a nurse about starting expressing the next day, and soon after, charles left. even drugged up, i didn’t sleep. i looked at the flowers from jane instead.  regardless of the babies and death association, these flowers were beautiful. colour against the drab curtains, life besides the machinery. i stared at those flowers for hours, and hoped that my babies would have beautiful colourful lives.

and thus ended the babies’ first day in the world.