It’s a sentence I have heard twice in my life – from two different doctors – and for near polar opposite reasons. The first time was in July 2014. We were at our first ultrasound appointment after receiving a positive pregnancy test. Just a few weeks prior, we had completed our 4th IVF cycle and had transferred two embryos with the hopes of becoming pregnant with one healthy baby. Now I was laying in an examination room awaiting my fate. Our reproductive endocrinologist, Dr. S., moved the ultrasound machine around and paused for a second. Took another look and then paused again.. this time for a few seconds longer.
“In all my years, I haven’t seen this happen” he said.
My mind raced as to what my crazy body could have done this time. I feared the worst, but never expected him to say:
“Both of the embryos implanted. And one split. You are pregnant with three babies. You are pregnant with triplets”.
He ran through the odds of triplets occurring (.0001% chance), the risks involved, follow-up instructions, and I could hardly hear a word he was saying. I was out of body and in complete shock. I could not wrap my head around the news and I immediately felt my identity shift. I was no longer Riley’s mom. I was a mother of four.
On November 24th, 2014 – we had a routine appointment with our maternal fetal medicine specialist (high-risk doctor), Dr. I. Mac dropped me off at the entrance and went to go park the car. I was looking at my phone when I walked into the elevator and it wasn’t until the doors closed that I was aware of my surrounding. Standing in the elevator was a petite, mid-30’s woman with three boys next to her, all the same height, all the same dark hair, all dressed in the same black winter hat and black Northface coat. I immediately asked if they were triplets and she answered ‘yes’ enthusiastically. I told her that I was pregnant with triplet boys myself and we quickly compared notes before they reached their floor and were on their way. I had tears in my eyes and goosebumps covering my body as I walked into my doctor’s office. Not once in my life had I come face to face with real life triplets. I had spent the past 5 months googling everything triplet related but I had yet to cross paths with any. Watching this mom and her little army of men lit a fire in me and I approached my appointment with confidence and an excitement I now long for.
Our weekly appointments consisted of the same ‘risk checks’… weight, blood pressure, babies’ heart rates, measurement of amniotic fluid surround each of them. The ultrasound tech scanned all three babies and I held my breath, then exhaled in relief as I watched my three boys kick around and their hearts beat loudly. She left the room to grab Dr. I – and Mac and I laughed at a funny video that had popped up on his Facebook newsfeed.
Dr. I walked into the room and his casual, warm, friendly aura was boldly missing. He pulled up a stool, kept his files closed and tucked under his arm, and when we finally made eye contact I noticed that his were filled with tears.
“Sara, in all my years here.. I have never seen this happen”
The familiar words rang loudly in my head as I flashbacked to our first ultrasound with the boys. I ignored the concern I heard in Dr. I’s voice and forced myself to believe the next words out of his mouth would be positive ones.
“Your twin boys are very very sick and we need to admit you into labor and delivery immediately. We are at risk of losing all three of these babies”
He went off into a full explanation of how within just one short week, our twin boys had developed Stage IV TTTS (Twin-to-twin transfusion – I will post more about this in a separate blog entry). Dr. I was always so good at explaining any and all risks – and he always finished our appointments on a reassuring note. So while he explained the medical condition of our twin boys – I shut down and stopped listening. All of the information seemed irrelevant – I just wanted to hear his final reassurance that ‘everything is great and we will follow up again next week’. I waited. And waited. Until he said:
“Sara, do you have any questions?”
I casually responded “wait, so will our boys be okay or are you saying they are dying?”
“Your twin boys are in heart failure and will not survive. They are dying. We need to admit you and do our best to save your third son”.
I looked at Mac and then back at Dr. I…. and I let out a howl. A loud, painful, gut-wretching cry that I can still hear to this day. I immediately grabbed my phone and called my sister Katie. I screamed into the phone in hysterics as she asked over and over and over what was wrong. It took me the longest time to formulate an answer “Katie, my boys are dying”.
Within ten minutes, I was in a wheelchair being admitted to the hospital for fear that I was going to go into labor at a mere 23 weeks. The next few hours were filled with blood draws, exams, ultrasounds, consultations with labor & delivery, NICU and the bereavement team. I sat in my hospital bed, waivering between complete hysteria and utter confusion. Our evening nurse gave me a heavy dose of anti-anxiety meds in hopes that I would be able to doze off but instead I stayed up all night holding onto my belly for dear life. My three boys were alive, kicking and I was too afraid to believe they would be taken from me any second.
The Madness Between 