Ever since I was a little girl—even when I was 10—I used to tell the people around me that one day I would have twins.
Three weeks after my first early miscarriage, a clear positive line appeared on a pregnancy test. The stress was palpable; I was afraid of what had happened three weeks earlier. My OB-GYN decided to give me a wonderful gift by scheduling a dating ultrasound for me—at 8 weeks of pregnancy—on May 3, 2017, at 1:30 p.m. As the weeks went by, my symptoms grew stronger. Two weeks before that fateful appointment, I had a strong gut feeling. I was 99% certain I was expecting twins. I didn’t tell anyone—not even my partner—for fear of being laughed at. There are no twins in my family, so the odds were practically zero. But I felt that “gut feeling” SO STRONGLY.
Finally, it was May 3, 2017, at 1:15 p.m. My partner and I were waiting in the waiting room. I had butterflies in my stomach; I was a little nervous. We women are strange that way—we always expect the worst. But my partner was very calm and tried to reassure me.
I’ll always remember the moment I heard my name and we walked into the room where I was to lie down to meet my little baby. The technician placed the little device on my belly, and that’s when I saw two little babies on the screen. I knew it, deep down inside!
The joy lasted 30 seconds. Then my maternal instinct kicked in, like a protective lioness. I immediately asked if my babies were okay. Unfortunately, the joy turned to worry, sorrow, and frustration. No little hearts in sight. Don’t panic—we waited a long week before truly accepting that the dream of twins was really over.
It was the longest week of my life—so far. I cried from exhaustion. I didn’t feel like doing anything anymore. My 19-month-old little girl could tell. She was draining my energy; she needed her mom, but her mom was on another cloud, lost in the wind.
On May 11, 2017, confirmation that my dream had flown away…
We had a decision to make: let nature take its course, but that could take up to a month… no thanks—I felt like a coffin on two legs. Take a little pill to expel them into the toilet and “flush” them away… no thanks.
We opted for a D&C. The next day, May 12, 2017, at exactly 4:35 p.m., I was called into the small waiting room to say goodbye to my little twins—my dream since early childhood.
Fortunately, the doctors showed impeccable wisdom and an inexplicable tenderness, like a father protecting his little girl from any harm. I can never thank them enough for turning that horrible moment into a reassuring and pain-free one. I fell asleep under the influence of the medication they gave me and woke up a few minutes later with an empty womb, alone in a recovery room. I cried. I cried my heart out, with a nurse by my side handing me a tissue.
Today, three months later, I’m still mourning my loss. I’m in the midst of grieving: grieving the miscarriage, but above all, grieving for my twins—my dream for so long.
I’m also deeply afraid that I’ll have to go through this kind of grief again someday. Unfortunately, between my first miscarriage and this one, I’ve learned that nothing in life is guaranteed. Some people around me tell me to trust in life, to let go. Personally, as long as you haven’t experienced this kind of tragedy yourself, it’s hard to truly understand someone who’s grieving. You can’t put yourself in the shoes of the person going through it, but yes, some people experience this event with less grief and are able to let go. I would love so much to be in those people’s shoes. But it’s different for everyone, and understanding what someone is feeling is sometimes difficult. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone—not even my worst enemy.
I take comfort in knowing that my little angels will always be close to me… I’ll never have had the chance to hold them in my arms and rock them, but I’ll carry them in my heart forever. And I’m certain they’ll bless me with a healthy little baby in a few months.