I’m 33 weeks and 1 day into my twin pregnancy. After the second Seder, I started having contractions. I thought I just overdid the days leading up to it, and took it easy the next few days. I missed going to shul, but was feeling better in a couple of days, so leading up to the second days, I did a little prep, but on Monday, and again on Wednesday I found myself in Triage. After my Tuesday visit, I went in for steroid shots, but I was back for consistent contractions at 5 am Wednesday morning. I was only 30 weeks and 3 days, so I was transferred by ambulance to the other hospital, because they had a level 3 NICU and I was 3 cm. When I got there, I was 4 cm, and progressing. It looked like we were having very premie babies, but after some medication and a few hours the contractions stopped. I was moved to the ante partum ward and stayed calm for 24 hours. Next thing I knew, I was having contractions again and had progressed to 6 cm. I was moved to triage, things were picking up. It was Shabbos, but it was happening. I had the nurse call my husband. He came, and we waited as the contractions continued, 2 minutes apart. My midwife came (she is doing a shared care with the OB). It was a strange day. My mother in law took care of my 2 year old. We waited, I was checked every so often… I wasn’t progressing, but it was a good thing. Things started to slow down toward the end of the day, and by the time Shabbos was over I was no longer contracting. It was a miracle. I stayed overnight in the delivery room, but was moved back to ante partum in the morning. I stayed there for over a week. When I was 32 weeks they started making plans to move me to the hospital closest to my home, but when it came down to the transfer, I was told the NICU was full and I couldn’t go. I was so upset, I told my husband to come get me… And planned to check in at the hospital my OB worked at. It was 20 minutes from home in the other direction, but a much nicer hospital and my own doctor, rather than just the random on call doctors. I went home for the day, it was Mother’s Day. I just wanted to stay, but it wasnt realistic. I had an appointment already scheduled for Monday, so I spent the night at home. At my appointment, my doctor advised that I should be admitted. To many things are possible with a twin delivery, and being 6 cm I could go into labour very quickly and have my babies in minutes. I agreed reluctantly, and she sent me home for dinner with plans to come back in the evening. I got a call an hour later that they could not admit me because the NICU was already full. My only options were to go back to old hospital, (if they weren’t full) or go home and wait. I chose to go home, because I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the other one. I was ready to leave any second and go to the nearest hospital if my water broke, but otherwise I was going to try to be at home. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stay as inactive as I needed to, and started cramping in the evening. By 1 in the morning it was obvious that it wasn’t letting up, so we drove to the hospital. It wasn’t going quickly, so we went to the better hospital. Once I was in triage, I sent my husband and baby home to sleep and just waited on the monitors. The contractions got worse, intense and painful. I was moved to a delivery room, but I remained at 6 cm. I called my husband, fell asleep, and when I woke up, the contractions had stopped. Miracle again! Now, I’m in the hospital I need to be in, the babies are still inside and growing. Fast forward a week. I’m still here, still pregnant. 33 weeks and 1 day. I’m not exactly sure which day of the omer it is, but I’m counting, and I’m reflecting. I’m so thankful for every day here. I’m finally hopeful, hopeful that my babies will grow another day or another week, or even a few more weeks. I’m also hopeful that I will be counting the omer next time, with as much enthusiasm as I am counting these days in the womb.