Since I had to rely on assisted reproduction for all my children, I received more rigorous monitoring than most moms, especially early in my pregnancy. A few weeks into my pregnancy, I had an ultrasound that allowed the doctor to determine that I had two amniotic sacs and two fetuses. Wow, twins. It wasn’t as if we hadn’t expected it at all—after all, they’d implanted two embryos in my womb (back then, they did that to increase the chances of pregnancy, but obviously it also increased the chances of multiple pregnancies). Twins!!! Between the excitement of finally being pregnant and the fear of the extra burden of carrying not one, but two children, there was also the confidence that everything would be okay, that we were strong, that we were a team that could weather anything, and that we could overcome any obstacle.
At our 12-week ultrasound, we arrived at the clinic, confident and curious to see our two little ones. We waited in the waiting room while I gently rubbed my belly, which hadn’t yet shown the slightest sign that it was carrying new life and our next challenge. We waited and began to find the time dragging. We watched the TV in the waiting room, which was showing the reproductive cycles of various animals. We found that rather strange for the waiting room of a fertility clinic, though, let’s face it, it was quite a concept. When the door opens and we think it’s our turn, a couple walks out. The woman is crying her eyes out, and the man’s eyes are red, but he’s holding his partner’s shoulders firmly as she seems on the verge of collapsing. It’s hard at that moment not to imagine every possible disaster scenario for this couple—and not to imagine the worst for us, too.
The couple is about to leave when it’s our turn. The technician greets us with a slight smile. She knows full well that we’re eager and excited to see our future babies developing, but we’re actually feeling a little more anxious after seeing the couple right before us leave. She applies the gel to my belly, moves the probe near my belly button… a baby. She moves to my right side, then my left, then up high… she checks everywhere. There’s only one baby. It’s definitely there, fully formed, with all its limbs and a little heart beating at full speed, but it’s alone. Torn between the joy of having what appears to be a healthy little girl and the grief of having lost the second one who was there just a few weeks ago, I remain fairly neutral. I take a few deep breaths, look at my boyfriend, and say to him with a smile, “At least there’s one left? It’ll probably be a lot easier than having twins.” The technician sighs and replies, “Phew, I’m glad you’re taking it so well—I would’ve had a hard time delivering two pieces of bad news in a row.”
All in all, I left my appointment feeling happy and confident about our future. I did spare a thought, though, for the couple before us who hadn’t been so lucky. I sincerely hope that by now they’ve found their smiles again, and I even wish them the most beautiful baby in the world. I’m keeping a secret “thank you” for them for helping me realize that day the full meaning of the phrase “One is better than none.”