I’m not exactly sure how to start this, but the best way I think is to give you a bit of background.  After becoming sexually active at the age of 15, I became pregnant at the age of 21. I had never prevented pregnancy but due to irregular periods, it seemed as though I was not very fertile. I delivered my son prematurely at 8 months gestation. After a brief bout with jaundice my son was sent home from the hospital healthy. I later divorced and remarried when my son turned 3.
My current husband and I have been married now 14 years and we had never used contraceptives with the hope that we might have gotten pregnant. Years went by and it never happened we gave up. Last October I under went gastric bypass due to health problems and a morbid obesity. I lost 88 lbs and became pregnant in March.
This pregnancy took everyone by surprise. Myself 38 and my husband 43, never did we even consider that pregnancy was still a possibility after 14 years. I became pregnant with twins. At 22 weeks of pregnancy at 11:00pm one night I started getting cramps. Thinking it was too early and that it was probably Braxton Hicks, I drank water as recommended and tried to sleep through the night. All night long I was very aware and in tune with my boys. I whispered to them telling them things would be alright. I caressed my belly as if it were them. Come morning, I could not take the pain any longer and I told my husband he needed to take me to the hospital. When I got to the nearest hospital, which was not my normal hospital, I was taken straight up to labor and delivery. There I was told unceremoniously, that I was to have my babies. I knew it was too early and I knew that what she really meant to say was that your babies were going to die. 

I sobbed uncontrollably, my husband looked on in confusion and anguish. I was already dilated 8 centimeters and completely effaced. I begged them to use a cerclage and close the cervix but according to the doctor there was nothing to sew, the cervix had no lip. The amniotic sac was protruding from my cervix. My son could be felt through the sac.

I was also told that due to the age of the boys there would be no life saving measures should they survive. I was in labor for a total of 34 hours. With every contraction I fought not to push. I tried in vain to keep my boys inside of me. They offered medication for pain which I refused for fear of ruining any chance they may have. I fought with every ounce of my being the urge not to push. I prayed and spoke to my boys begging them to fight. For 24 hours I fought. Finally the pain of the contractions were too much to bare and starting to force me to push. I then accepted the epidural the doctor had offered in hopes that calming the contractions would somehow let me keep them longer. 

The epidural did not stop the urge to push. My body wouldn’t listen. No matter how hard I tried not to push my body had a mind of its own and my boys arrived. August 11, 2007 at 6:30 Darian was born weighing 8.5 oz and measuring 9inches. He was perfect and beautiful, he opened one eye and made a small noise waving his arms in the air as the nurse handed him to me. His chest beating strong trying to survive. My husband and I held him and kissed him our tears wetting his tiny forehead. While holding him, the nurse asked me to push the placenta out . When I did as she asked Matthew was born, at 6:40 am. Weighing 9.5oz measuring 9 inches he was slightly larger than his brother. Matthew was as meek as he was in my womb, he laid in my husband’s hand breathing softly with a slight smile on his face. We held our perfect miniature boys bestowing all the kisses we knew we would never have the chance to give them. Darian’s heart beats became slower and slower till they finally stopped 20 minutes after he had come into our lives. Mathew was soon to follow his brother.

What stands out in my mind was the fact that even in birth and death, Darian and Matthew displayed the same personalities as they did in my womb. Darian the fireball came into the world as a lion. Mathew my little lamb.

Overwhelmed with grief I felt no anger then, but it was soon to come. After burying my boys 3 days later anger began to well inside me. A burning primal hatred for what ever force had given us this precious gift after 14 years only to take them away. The anger was consuming me. The tears would not stop. A part of me was dead, as dead as my boys. It’s only been a month and a half, so I still go through anger, but I’m also grateful to have had my boys for the time that I did. They only lived a short time but they were loved a lifetime.

Thank you for your support.

The Mojica Family

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