Answers to Your Questions

Since coming out publicly about our plan to try and have a baby through surrogacy, a fairly well-known yet mostly unfamiliar process, I've had a continuous stream of questions thrown my way. Obviously, I'm a very open person and feel I have nothing to hide. But after hearing the same inquiries over and over again, I've decided it might be in all of my readers' best interests to post a blog with all the answers in one place. So, here it goes!

In an attempt to keep things as simple as possible, I've tried to group similar questions together so I won't be jumping all over the place. Let's start at the beginning.

This is such a personal thing you're doing. Why are you writing it publicly for the world to read?

The simple answer is that I have nothing to hide. The more detailed response goes back to my original blog about my cancer journey. When I was diagnosed with cancer I crawled into a little hole and didn't want to talk to anyone about what was happening. I knew my family and friends were concerned, but I just didn't have the strength to keep repeating everything that happened at every single doctor's appointment and every single chemo treatment. I figured if I blogged I could keep everyone informed without having to make 100 phone calls to say exactly the same thing. I promised at the beginning of that blog to be completely open and honest about the situation no matter how difficult things became. I found out that's why people kept reading. My brutal honestly was refreshing for them and made them feel like they actually understood what I was going through. When I chose to end that blog after my last chemo treatment I had people begging me to write again because they missed reading my posts. While I was flattered, I had nothing interesting to write about and I refused to blog about my latest trip to the supermarket just to fill some space on the internet. So, when this new and exciting experience started coming together for us, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to start writing again. While it hasn't always been the cheery blog I'd hoped for, my initial goal of "keeping it real" will continue.

What's the difference between a surrogate and a gestational carrier?

Good question! You may have noticed that, when referring to Lyndsay, I generally call her our carrier and not our surrogate. There's a reason for that. In traditional surrogacy, the woman - or surrogate - who will be carrying the baby(ies) uses her own eggs, which will be fertilized by the Intended Father's sperm. Because of the use of her own genetic material, a traditional surrogate will be biologically related to the baby(ies) resulting from the procedure.

(Side note: According to Web Definitions, "Intended parents are people who use assisted reproduction to create a child whom they intend to parent, whether or not they have a genetic or biological relationship to that child." Hence, Jimmi and I are the Intended Mother and Intended Father, and jointly, Intended Parents.)

In gestational surrogacy, the woman - or gestational carrier - will become pregnant through the process of in vitro fertilization using embryos made up of the Intended Father's sperm and the Intended Mother's eggs (and/or a donor egg and sperm). A gestational carrier has no biological relation to the child(ren) she is carrying. 

In our specific case, Lyndsay is a gestational carrier. The babies, while growing in her uterus, were made from my eggs and Jimmi's sperm. They are 100% our children, with no relation to Lyndsay at all.

How did you know which surrogacy agency to choose?

We didn't. Out fertility clinic gave us two recommendations and we chose the one that had been around longer, assuming they would have more experience. Unfortunately, we found out the hard way that we made the wrong choice. The first agency asked for a large, non-refundable deposit up front, just to get us into their system. In 6 months, they only sent us five possible candidates and all were either morbidly obese, unemployed, living on food stamps, sleeping around (yes, it was on the questionnaire) or had spent time in jail. Not one of them had health insurance, which meant we'd have to buy them a temporary plan. After we finally got fed up with the first agency, we called the second one. Immediately, there was a better vibe. No money was required until a match was made, all of the candidates were prescreened for health and had already had a background check and home study. Government assisted income was not allowed and they all had to have their own health insurance. We were matched with Lyndsay within 12 hours of making the initial call and the agency has been amazing throughout this entire process. (Side note: When I told the first agency we weren't going to use them anymore, the only response I got was, "You understand your deposit is non-refundable, right?")

Why would Lyndsay want to carry someone else's baby?

I figured I'd ask her that question. Here's what she said, "I don't mind being pregnant. I'd wanted to do it (carry for another couple) for a while and then my cousin posted on Facebook that she was looking for a carrier if anyone was interested and I took her up on it. After I did it for family and saw how happy it made them, I wanted to see what it would be like to help someone else."

How does Lyndsay feel about carrying someone else's baby then just saying goodbye? Will there be visitation?

Again, I went right to the source. She said, "I have no heart, so it doesn't bother me! haha! Just kidding. It feels like a normal pregnancy to me. It's my job to protect the babies until they're born then it's my job to hand them over to their parents. I carried for my cousin last year and as soon as I saw the baby I knew she wasn't mine because she didn't look anything like my kids." 

It's Suzanne again! I'll answer the visitation question. Lyndsay can see the babies anytime she wants. You have to understand, this isn't a divorce situation. Lyndsay isn't related to these babies so there won't be a legal document in place with a schedule for when she has them and when we do. We fully intend to keep in touch with Lyndsay and her family after the birth of the babies and she can see them whenever she wants. And if she wants to take them for a week or two so we can sleep, that would be fine too! 

How does it feel to have someone else carry your babies?

It makes me feel like I'm not a complete woman. It makes me feel broken. It hurts that I can't do this one special thing I'm supposed to do for Jimmi. It sucks. 

Do you trust Lyndsay to carry your baby(ies)? You don't even know her.

Let me answer that question with a question of my own. Would you allow someone you didn't trust to carry YOUR child? It's difficult to understand, but I felt an instant connection to Lyndsay as soon as the agency told me about her. After turning down five possible candidates from the first agency, I was convinced we'd never find anyone who we'd trust enough to take on this incredible responsibility. But we were wrong. Lyndsay and I had time to get to know each other before the embryo transfer and I can honestly say we've become friends. I trust her completely to do what's best for my babies and I fully expect us to stay in touch after they're born.

Will the babies share Lyndsay's blood or genes?

No. The babies will get nutrients from Lyndsay through the umbilical chord that connects to their placentas, but each baby has her own blood supply that will not mix with Lyndsay's. As far as genes go, that's a no, too. All of their genes came from my eggs and Jimmi's sperm. Their DNA codes were complete before they entered Lyndsay's uterus so nothing can change them now.

What if Lyndsay wants to keep one of the babies?

I'm sorry, but this question is ridiculous. They're Jimmi and my babies! They're our genetic children and not related to her at all. But, for those of you who might still be worried because you've heard stories of Baby M in the eighties (which was a traditional surrogacy case, FYI), I'll put your minds at ease by letting you know both Lyndsay and Josh had to pass an incredibly thorough psychological evaluation and there is a very lengthy contract in place that specifies these children belong to Jimmi and me.

Will you have to adopt the babies after they're born?

This is a very interesting question because the answer can go either way. If all goes according to plan and Lyndsay delivers in MN, where she lives, the answer is no, we will not have to adopt the babies. A few months before the due date, our lawyer will write up a Pre-Birth Order. This is a document that states, in no uncertain terms, that Jimmi and I are the parents of the babies Lyndsay will deliver. The hospital and all the doctors and nurses will be notified of our situation so there won't be any questions. The only time things could get sticky is if, for some reason, Lyndsay travels out of state and the babies are born outside of MN. In that case, the Pre-Birth Order wouldn't apply and Lyndsay would be considered the babies' mother. What's more interesting about a situation like that is, if Lyndsay tells them Jimmi is the dad, his name will go on the birth certificate with hers, but my name will not be accepted because she gave birth to them. I would then have to adopt my own children but Jimmi would not. 

How much does it cost to use a gestational carrier?

Yes, people have actually asked this question. I will not answer with specifics, but I will give an overview of how it works. Obviously if someone is willing to give us the gift of life, I'd expect to pay them for their amazing generosity. Let's be honest, you just can't put a price on what Lyndsay is doing. But one of our requirements when searching for a carrier was that money was not the driving force in the woman's reasons for wanting to carry our child. Not once have we ever thought that Lyndsay and Josh were in this for the money. They both have wonderful jobs and a nice house and health insurance and are perfectly able to support their family without our help. They aren't needy or living on food stamps or begging. They are just good people who want to give us an incredible gift. That being said, I'll now explain the compensation process.

After the agency matched us with Lyndsay, a fee was agreed upon and contracts were drawn up. We are responsible for the agency fee, Lyndsay's fee and all of the fertility clinic's fees, including the embryo transfer and all of Lyndsay's pre and post transfer medications. Unfortunately, we were not able to put the fertility costs through our insurance. There are some additional allowances for maternity clothes and travel and childcare as well. People have also asked if Lyndsay's fee covers one baby or three babies and the answer is, no. She will be compensated an additional bonus for each baby she carries. There are also bonuses for extra medical procedures she might need or want, including an amniocentesis or a C-section. Once Lyndsay passes her next ultrasound she'll be released from our fertility clinic's care (even though she's been home in MN, she's technically still a patient of the clinic in NJ) and passed on to her own doctor in MN. At that point her insurance should take over and we'll pay all out of pocket expenses. 

It must be a pain to have your carrier live so far away. Why didn't you find someone in NJ?

The surrogacy laws vary from state to state and, unfortunately, the laws in New Jersey are not clear enough to risk the problems that might arise after the birth. We could've specified the desire for a carrier who lives in Pennsylvania, right on the NJ border, but it may have taken a very long time to find the perfect person in the perfect location. It sucks that we won't be able to go to all of the appointments and may miss the birth if we can't get a flight fast enough, but we decided the perfect carrier in a not so perfect location was more important than a perfect location with a not so perfect carrier.

Who makes all the major decisions regarding the babies during the pregnancy?

We do! They're our babies!

Are you allowed in the delivery room?

As long as we make it in time and there isn't an emergency situation, we should be!

How many eggs did you put into Lyndsay?

First, let me start by making it clear that we transferred EMBRYOS, NOT EGGS into Lyndsay! People keep referring to them as eggs, but that's not the case. Two and a half years ago, my eggs were removed and mixed with Jimmi's sperm to make embryos. After growing for five days, they were frozen to wait until we needed them. When we were ready, we defrosted TWO embryos and both were transferred into Lyndsay's uterus.

If you only put in two embryos, how did you end up with three babies?

Through the miracle of nature! Both embryos that were transferred implanted and started growing, but one of them decided to split into two separate embryos. It was a complete fluke and not anything we'd planned.

If you're having triplets, why do you keep referring to them as "the twins" and "the singleton"?

Excellent question! Let me start by saying that, before we knew there were three babies in there, I'd gotten a lot of questions about what the two embryos would be called if they both implanted. The answer to that is TWINS! Yes, they would've been two separate embryos, therefore, each child would look different, but they'd still be classified as twins if they share the uterus. They wouldn't have been identical twins, they'd have been dizygotic or fraternal twins. Now that I've explained that scenario, I'll move on to the question at hand. 

As a whole, the three babies Lyndsay is carrying are called triplets. Three babies sharing a uterus are, by definition, triplets. But if we break them down, there is one baby in her own gestational sac. She is technically a singleton. The embryo that split became two babies in one gestational sac. Those babies are monozygotic or genetically identical twins and will look exactly alike, while the singleton will look different. (Side note: In my last post, I mistakenly referred to the twins as monochromatic instead of monozygotic. Oops!) To complicate matters even more, the triplets are actually referred to as super twins or dizygotic triplets!

How do you know they're all girls? 

Well, like this entire pregnancy, that's another example of using science to our advantage. Two and a half years ago, when my 16 eggs were retrieved and fertilized with Jimmi's sperm, we were left with 14 embryos that grew long enough to be frozen. But before they were put on ice, we chose to do PGD testing on the embryos to make sure they were chromosomally normal. Aside from determining that 12 of the 14 embryos were, in fact, healthy (based on the tests that were performed), we were also able to tell the sex of each one. We had an even split of 6 male and 6 female embryos! 

Before the transfer, Jimmi and I talked about it and decided, since I already have two boys from my first marriage, we wanted to use two female embryos. So, unless someone at the lab made a HUGE mistake, only girls were defrosted and only girls were transferred into Lyndsay. And, since the third surprise baby is an exact genetic copy of one of the female embryos we transferred, it's scientifically impossible for her to be a boy. 

What will you do with the remaining embryos?

Excellent question! If Jimmi and I decide not to have more children, we have three options for the remaining 10 embryos. We can either have them destroyed, donate them to a person or couple to "adopt" or donate them to research. We've decided that having them destroyed is a complete waste. Donating them to a person or couple to "adopt" is also not an option for us. We couldn't live with ourselves knowing our babies are out there being raised by someone else. What if they're being abused? What if they're unhappy? What if they're sick? I couldn't stand the thought of not being able to help them. In the end, we've decided to donate them to medical research so they can help science in whatever way possible.

Will you perform DNA testing on the babies after they're born to make sure they're yours?

Actually, yes. I'm not worried that they'd be Lyndsay and Josh's babies, the reason for testing goes back to what I said in the last question about there being a HUGE mistake at the lab. Look, it's unlikely with all the checks in place, but anything is possible, right? 

What if they're not yours?

I can't answer this question because I don't even want to think about it.

How is Lyndsay already 7 weeks pregnant when the transfer only happened a month ago?

I've gotten this question A LOT. Ok, so, in a "normal" situation, or one without help from science, a woman's pregnancy is counted from the first day of her last period. Generally a woman doesn't know exactly when she conceived, so this rule was put into place to make things easier to calculate a due date. When menstrual cycles are normal, ovulation usually occurs two weeks after the first day of the woman's last period. Because conception occurs during ovulation, a woman is considered to be pregnant two weeks before she actually conceives. 

Are you following this?

So, with IVF (in vitro fertilization), your cycle is manipulated by scientists to make sure your uterus is primed for implantation. Technically, on the date of your transfer you're already considered two weeks pregnant. BUT WAIT! There's more! Before they were frozen, our embryos had already been growing for five days. Transferring 5 day-old embryos adds five days to the pregnancy that hasn't even happened yet! That means, on August 30, 2013 - Transfer Day, Lyndsay was already 19 days pregnant. 

My biology teacher would be so proud of me right now!

Aren't you glad you don't have to carry the babies yourself? It's like the best of both worlds! You get to have babies AND keep your body!

Honestly? No. I'd give anything to be able to carry my own baby(ies). Yeah, it's cool that I don't have to spend 6 months puking and get more stretch marks and worry about losing the weight, but I also won't be able to feel the first kick. I won't know when they have the hiccups in utero. I won't be able to watch my belly move back and forth as the babies toss and turn and stretch. I won't be able to talk and sing to them so they're soothed by my voice when they come out. Jimmi won't be able to rest his head on my belly as they wiggle around. He won't be able to watch them grow inside me every day. We won't be able to make it to every prenatal visit to hear their heartbeats. We may even miss the birth entirely. So, to answer that question again. No. Not at all.

Can/Will Lyndsay pump her breast milk so you can give it to the babies?

There are two different answers here. Yes, she can, but we've all decided that she isn't going to do that. It's enough that she's giving up her body for us for 7-9 months. I refuse to ask her to continue being a slave to our babies after they're born. I was bottle-fed and I grew up just fine!

I've heard you can stimulate your own breast milk to come in. Is that true?

Yes! Pretty amazing, right? Since both of my boys were breastfed and it was a true bonding experience, I looked into this option but decided against it for two reasons. First, I'd have to take hormones to get the milk production going. With my history of cancer, I really don't think that's a good idea. Second, by the time the babies are born my boys will be 13 and 11. I don't know how comfortable I'd feel with them - and their friends! - walking around the house while my boobs are hanging out.

Do you have room in your house for three more kids?

It'll be a bit more crowded, but, yes! Luckily, we do! How I'm gonna be able to cook for everyone is another question, though!

Are you scared?

Terrified. 

Is Jimmi freaking out?

Yup.

Won't it be hard for Jimmi to bond with the babies since they're not inside you and he won't be able to watch you grow and feel them kick? It'll just be like someone's handing him some strange babies!

Since we don't really have a choice, I guess I'm hoping it won't be a problem.

Is Jimmi prepared to raise three babies on his own if your cancer comes back and you can't fight it this time?

Ummm...nope. But, honestly, would anyone be prepared to lose his/her spouse and raise his/her kids alone? 

How do Dylan and Justin feel about having 3 little sisters?

They're really excited, but it's not totally real for them yet. Wait until they find slobber and tiny fingerprints all over their iPads and ask them again!

In your blogs you talk about waiting to see what's up with the twins before making decisions. What decisions are you referring to?

This is where things get tough. I've mentioned waiting to see if the twins are sharing a placenta and/or amniotic sac. Each possibility carries risks and both together make the risks worse. If the doctors recommend reducing (aborting) the twins as the best option to save the singleton, we'll have a major decision to make. 

On the other hand, even if the twins look ok, we may be faced with the decision to reduce anyway. A lot of factors come into play when triplets are involved. There's not only the health of the babies throughout the pregnancy, but also after birth. If they're born too early, which is very likely, one or all of them could face major longterm health issues. Is it fair to them to try and carry all of them when they may end up living a life of pain? Then there's Lyndsay's health. A lot can happen to her while carrying the babies, too. Is it fair to risk HER life for OUR children? And then, if all goes well with the pregnancy, there are things to consider after they're born. Can you imagine raising three infants, toddlers and teenagers at the same time? Think of the stress on everyone involved. How about the financial hardships? ONE baby is expensive enough. Now multiply that by three! In a perfect world I would never consider terminating any of my babies, but, realistically there's a lot to think about and major discussions need to happen and decisions need to be made shortly after Lyndsay's next ultrasound on October 11th.

Does Lyndsay have any say in whether or not you reduce the pregnancy?

Yes and no. In our original contract, we all agreed we'd reduce anything more than twins. Now that we've been put in the position of having triplets, Lyndsay and I have come to the agreement that we really don't want to reduce if everything is going well. But, for argument's sake, if she decided tomorrow that she absolutely refused to carry more than two, she would legally be able to insist on reducing at least one of the babies. On the flip side, if we decided we wanted to reduce, she wouldn't legally be able to deny our request. 

And I'll end with the most ridiculous question of all...

Have you considered putting one of the babies up for adoption? I think it would be in everyone's best interest to reduce stress on your relationship with Jimmi, and you'd help a childless couple in the process.

No, we will NOT be giving away one of our children! They're not puppies! And how would we choose? Eenie Meenie Miney Moe? Give up one of the twins since they're pretty much the same anyway? Maybe I should give them each 1/3 of a silver locket so, one day, when they're reunited, they can put all the pieces back together! Think of how the adopted one would feel if she found out she was a triplet but her parents decided she was the one they wouldn't keep. So, no, we will NOT be giving away one of our babies.

Well, I think that about does it! Hopefully I've answered everything you've been wondering thus far. If not, feel free to message me anything else you'd like to know. I'd really appreciate it if you try to keep it to questions I can actually answer and not about how much it sucks that I can't have my own babies. 

And to close, I want to thank you all for reading and sharing my blog! Feel free to keep passing it along!

Heartbeat(s)

We all stood behind the table, watching the monitor high up on the wall in back of the ultrasound technician. Well, not all of us. Josh, Jimmi and I were standing but Lyndsay was actually on the table being violated by the same type of dildo-shaped wand I'd gotten to know very intimately during my egg retrieval process. The tech turned off the lights after inserting the transducer into Lyndsay's hoo-ha and the screen above began to reveal cryptic images of the contents of her uterus. My stomach was in knots excited for what we hoped to see and nervous for what we might see...or not see.

"There are the two gestational sacs," said the tech as she moved her magic device around Lyndsay's insides. I stared at the screen and my heart sank deeply into my chest. Are they empty? They look empty! Then the dildo-cam was turned for a better view of Sac A, where I immediately noticed a small circle that put my crazy thoughts at ease for the moment, until I realized it didn't look like it had changed since the photos from the week before. And, worse yet, nothing was beating. Oh no! But then a click of the button magnified the image on the monitor above us and the small circle became a little bean, just like I remember from my first ultrasound with Dylan. "See the fluttering?" asked the tech as the beautiful sight of Baby's A's tiny, beating heart appeared for us to admire. There was no way to stop the tears, so I didn't even try, as I slid my arm through Jimmi's and rested my head on his shoulder. "Whoa," he said with the amazement of a first-time daddy, "that's crazy!" Baby A was measured and her heart rate was counted, "One-hundred and twenty beats per minute," we were told, which I knew was just perfect! A few last checks were made before the scanning phallus was twisted and turned until Sac B appeared. We all waited anxiously to see what Techie would find in there this week. Then we saw one circle. Where's the other one? Is she still there? And then another circle. "There they are," she announced before clicking the magnifying button to check for proof of life in the twins that sprouted from a single embryo. "It's hard to get them both in the picture so I'll check them one at a time," she explained. All eyes were on Baby B as different angles were tried until, finally, "There's the heart. See it?" she asked. And we did. It was every bit as beautiful as A's, and clocked very closely at 118 beats per minute. "While I'm measuring heart rates I might as well check the other one and then I'll finish marking their growth," we were told. The picture changed from Baby B to Baby C, her mirror image, and a third beating heart was detected. "Holy shit!" Jimmi released after a complete set of live triplets was revealed. "You need me to catch you, Buddy?" Josh joked as he held out his arms in case Jimmi passed out at the thought of three little girls. Baby C's heart rate came in right behind her sisters, at 116 beats per minute. 

After each measurement was recorded and recorded again and recorded again, the tech turned the lights back on and handed us a sheet with four photos of our little appleseed-sized munchkins. Lyndsay got up and got dressed and the four of us headed next door for our appointment with the fetal medicine - or high-risk pregnancy - specialist, who was nice enough to fit us into his schedule immediately following the ultrasound. The waiting room wasn't too busy, but I could see that the very pregnant woman sitting next to us was clearly ready for her baby (babies?) to vacate her womb last week. Lyndsay sat there filling out a load of paperwork and Josh, Jimmi and I chatted until a tall, blonde woman named Nurse A came out to get us. I guess everyone was prepped on our unique situation because the nurse didn't bat an eye when all four of us followed her back to the exam room. She stopped quickly to have Lyndsay step on the scale and she asked each of us our names. "I'm Suzanne," I said. "I'm the mom!" She smiled and wrote down my name and I hoped she knew I was the babies' mom and not Lyndsay's mom. The men introduced themselves as well then we continued onward. 

The exam room was much larger than I'd expected it to be and it had a couch long enough to seat all of us, which led me to believe we may not be the only group of four people having babies together that they've seen. Once we'd all made ourselves comfortable, Nurse A began to speak, "So," she smiled, "you're having triplets!" We all nodded and noises ranging from sighs of disbelief to laughter emerged from each of us. She continued, "Let me start by congratulating you and asking you if you have any questions for the doctor before he comes in? It's probably easiest if I write everything down for him now so you don't forget." No one spoke so I started, "I have questions," I said as I opened up the notepad on my iPhone. She got her pen ready and I rattled off everything I'd thought of in the last few days:

"Is there a chance the embryos will split again?"

"If the babies end up in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit), would we be able to airlift them to a hospital in New Jersey?"

"Are the twins sharing a placenta and/or an amniotic sac?"

"Are triplets always delivered via C-section?"

"When would Lyndsay have to go on bed rest?"

"Do you ever stitch the cervix to prevent preterm labor?"

"Would you allow your wife to carry triplets?"

"What are the risks of carrying triplets to Lyndsay and the babies?"

She nodded as she jotted down each question. "Is that all?" she asked after I'd finally stopped speaking. I told her it was. "Anyone else?" she looked at Lyndsay then at the men who were all shaking their heads. "Ok," she said cheerily, "let me give you some phone numbers for the doctor and the nursing staff in case anything else comes up." She handed us each a few cards and I remembered another question, "If I call and ask about the pregnancy will the doctor be allowed to speak to me?" Nurse A answered, "I'll get a release form for Lyndsay to sign so that won't be a problem." 

A very tall man with a friendly face entered the room a few minutes later. "Hi, I'm Dr. R," he said with a friendly tone that reminded me of American Idol's Season 2 runner-up, Clay Aiken. At that point I wondered if he'd even be able to answer the question about letting his wife carry triplets, as I was certain he wasn't interested in women in any other way than medically. "So," he continued, "It's not every day I get to tell people they're having triplets! But I guess you already knew that, which is why you came to see me today." Something about this man was so sincere and open that I instantly felt comfortable knowing he'd be caring for Lyndsay and my babies. "I see you have some questions. Let me answer those and then I'll go through our protocol for a triplet pregnancy with you." Dr. R started at the top: 

"Is there a chance the embryos will split again? No. They're done splitting by now so you don't have to worry about that." A small sense of relief came over all of us as he moved on to the next question, "Can they be airlifted to a hospital in New Jersey? Good question!" he complimented. "I don't see why not. We've done it before but I think it might depend on your insurance." I nodded and he read the next question: 

"Are the twins sharing a placenta and an amniotic sac? It's really too soon to tell, but it appears as though they are at least sharing a placenta. The question of one or two sacs will become clearer at about ten weeks." I'm not sure if the other three people on the couch knew the reasons for my questions, but Dr. R sure did as he explained, "There are risks associated with each of those scenarios, as you probably know since you asked the question. Monochromatic or identical twins come from a single embryo that splits. The best case is that each twin has its own placenta and its own amniotic sac. When the twins share a placenta they run the risk of developing Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome, which means one twin will get the nutrient-rich blood from the placenta, take what it needs, then, instead of it circulating back to pick up more nutrients, the same blood will go directly to the twin who won't get anything out of it. The donor twin will usually be much smaller and have deficiencies and the recipient twin will be much larger and have too much of what it needs, which is dangerous too.  There will also be a large discrepancy in the amount of amniotic fluid surrounding each twin. In severe cases, Twin-to-twin leads to death of both fetuses." The room was silent until Dr. R spoke again, "The good news is that we will monitor Lyndsay very closely and if we see signs of this starting, we can perform a laser procedure to separate the connecting blood vessels to each twin. Most of the time this fixes the problem and both fetuses do very well." That lightened the air a bit until he said, "If they're sharing an amniotic sac they run the risk of getting tangled up in each other's umbilical chords which could end up strangling them both. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do to prevent that. The larger problem is, if that happens and both twins perish, Lyndsay may go into preterm labor and be forced to deliver all the babies before they're a viable gestational age. In that case, you could lose all three." More silence. "The biggest issue with the identical twins, when they're high-risk like this, is that they can negatively impact the singleton, who is happily growing in her own little world. If anything happens to the twins, whether the singleton is healthy or not, she could be at risk as well." Yup. That's what I've read. 

He continued, "Are triplets always C-section? Yes, generally they are. Usually triplets come early and it becomes a situation where it just isn't safe to let them go through the stress of labor." Ok, that's understandable. "When would Lyndsay go on bed rest? She may not have to," he said and I saw Lyndsay's face light up with relief. "If she's doing well and the babies are doing well there's no reason to put her on medical bed rest, though, she may be self-restricting activities at that point. Carrying three babies tends to make everything much harder to do." I can't even imagine. Next, "Do you stitch the cervix to prevent preterm labor? Well, we sometimes put in a stitch, or a cerclage, if there's a history of incompetent cervix. But we don't do it prophylactically. Actually, there's some evidence to suggest that a cerclage may reduce preterm labor with singletons but cause it in twins. Very interesting." And then he got to the question I was sorry I'd asked before meeting him, "Would you allow your wife to carry triplets?" He laughed and I squirmed. "I think I my wife would be the one telling me what to do!" Wait, he's not gay? I glanced at the naked ring finger on his left hand as he rattled off a story about his wife and their dogs and I realized the negative effect of a Southern accent on one's masculinity. 

And, finally, "What are the risks to Lyndsay and the babies? Well, I've already discussed the major risks to the twins. As far as Lyndsay, the main concerns would be high blood pressure, pre-eclampsia and gestational diabetes. But I can control all of that. Depending on the severity, she may spend some time in the hospital to get things settled, but she'll be so closely monitored that we'd catch anything that happens very early. The absolute biggest concern with a triplet pregnancy is preterm labor. The earlier the babies come, the higher the chances they'll have longterm medical problems. If they're born before twenty-three or twenty-four weeks, they most likely won't survive. Between twenty-four and twenty-eight weeks, they can survive, but they'll probably have some type of serious medical issue. The chances of Cerebral Palsy in triplets is about ten percent. But remember, you need to dodge the bullet for each possibility three times; once for each baby." I didn't look at Jimmi's face as the doctor was speaking because I know his biggest fear is that something will be seriously wrong with the babies. The doctor continued, "With multiples, once we reach the twenty-eight week mark, we all tend to breathe a sigh of relief. At that point a lot of the risk drops significantly and most of the babies born after that will spend time in the NICU for nothing more than learning to suck and swallow and gaining weight. Realistically, most triplets are born around thirty weeks, but we like to see them go to at least thirty-two. If they get much further we'll talk about delivering between thirty-three and thirty-five weeks to avoid more complications that come with high order multiples outgrowing their quarters."

I was still digesting the answers when Dr. R asked, "Do you want me to give you information on selective reduction?" No! Don't tell me! I don't want to know! But, "Yes, I guess you should give us information on everything," came out of my mouth instead. The doctor looked at us with sympathetic eyes, "I know it's not a pleasant topic, but sometimes it becomes necessary, for various reasons, to reduce the number of fetuses to a more manageable amount. And I don't mean just for the pregnancy. Parents also need to consider the possible financial and emotional hardships of raising three children of the same age. Medically speaking, it's always safer to carry fewer babies, but that doesn't mean I haven't seen healthy triplets, or even quadruplets, leave the hospital and grow up just fine. But I've also seen it go the other way as well. You really need to weigh the risks and figure out exactly what you're prepared to handle." We all listened in silence as I felt the tide rising behind my eyes. I blinked a few times hoping to strengthen the dam and the waves subsided. "In this case, you can choose to reduce either the singleton or the twins, though keeping the single would carry fewer risks. The procedure is very quick. A long, thin needle is inserted into the chest of the chosen fetus or fetuses, then they are injected with potassium chloride which will stop the heart." The words had barely left his lips when the tightly constructed dam behind my eyes broke and the sobbing began. Jimmi's arm flew around my shoulder in an attempt to console me as Nurse A handed me a box of tissues. "I know it's not a fun thing to talk about," Dr. R said empathetically. "But sometimes it ends up becoming necessary for a variety of reasons." I sniffed back the sadness and asked, "What are the chances we'll lost the entire pregnancy if we choose to reduce?" "It's about five to eight percent," answered the doctor. "Not very high at all." I laughed at yet another slim chance being thrown my way, "I don't do well with the small percentages," I explained. "Based on statistics, I shouldn't even be alive." Dr. R's face showed confusion so I went on, "I had Small Cell Neuroendocrine Carcinoma of the Cervix." Confusion turned to shock on the doctor's face and he let out a winded, "Wow!" He shook his head and said, "I've never heard of that in the cervix before. You're very lucky to be here and I understand why you don't want to talk small chances anymore."

I was relieved when the subject changed to the general care of a triplet pregnancy, including how often Lyndsay would be seen and monitored and given ultrasounds. At the beginning it shouldn't be much different than a normal, run-of-the mill pregnancy. But if the twins are sharing a placenta or an amniotic sac, the visits and ultrasounds will probably become weekly occurrences. "The goal here is to keep those babies in as long as possible. The earlier they're born the more likely it is that they'll have some sort of longterm health issue." And that's the biggest problem. As confident as Lyndsay is that she's gonna, "Hold 'em in until thirty-three weeks," there's no guarantee. She can be as careful and positive and heathy as can be, but if the babies decide they want out at 25 weeks, there's very little we can do to stop them.

We finished up with the doctor and Nurse A took us out to set up Lyndsay's next ultrasound and follow-up appointment, which will be on October 11th. Since she works at the hospital, Lyndsay then took us to meet her coworkers down the hall. I must say, if we have to have a high-risk pregnancy, it's really nice to know that, three to four days a week, she'll be in the complex where she'll give birth, just a few steps away from the team of specialists who will care for her over the next six, seven or eight months. We were immediately greeted with huge smiles and shouts of, "congratulations!" as soon as we entered the blood donor suite where Lyndsay works. Everyone knew who we were and I kind of felt like a rock star. While we spoke to Lyndsay's friends, she headed to the computer to check the results of her blood test from the morning. We were all anxious to see what the number would be this week since 14,747 blew us away seven days earlier. "Look at the number," I heard her giggling voice call to me from a few steps away. I looked past Lyndsay to the monitor behind her, where the huge numbers were taking up almost the entire screen. 71,272. "Whoa," was all I could get out as Lyndsay laughed and exclaimed, "I guess I'm very pregnant!" 

After showing off our first baby pictures to anyone who would look and accepting the generous well-wishes from everyone who knew our story, we headed off for a quick lunch and then back to Lyndsay and Josh's house where I met their beautiful and incredibly well-mannered children. Hunter, their 5 year-old son, wanted me to watch an episode of The Incredible Hulk with him so badly and, as I did, he snuggled up next to me so he could make sure I was paying attention. Hallie, who is 3, has the biggest blue eyes and such gorgeous blonde hair I think Disney might end up modeling a new princess after her. While Hallie is still too young to really understand what her mommy is doing for us, Hunter gets in on an age-appropriate level. "You're having THREE babies!" he told me with a giant smile. I nodded. "What are their names?" he asked and I told him our current choices. "Thank you for letting me borrow your mom's tummy," I said to him. "Why can't you put the babies in your tummy?" he questioned. I thought quickly, "My tummy is broken so babies can't grow in there." He wasn't satisfied with that, "Why is it broken?" he asked. "Well, the doctor had to take out the parts that grow babies because they didn't work anymore." That seemed acceptable but he needed more information, "The doctor took all the food out of your tummy?" Ok, I'm out. I looked over at Josh for help and he rescued me with a quick, "Yes!" But Hunter had to know more, "How did they get everything out of there?" I explained, "They gave me an operation. They cut me open with a knife..." The poor kid's eyes almost flew out of his head so I quickly added, "I was asleep and didn't feel a thing. Do you want to see my scars?" He nodded so I lifted my shirt enough to show him the battle wounds from my hysterectomy. After a quick glance his mind shifted, "Do you want to see my room?" And that was the end of that!

We spent about an hour at the house before we needed to get on our way to the airport. Just before we left, Hallie ran to the refrigerator where she'd hung up an art project she'd made at preschool. She lifted the magnet and removed the rectangular paper from it's spot and I asked, "Can I see?" It was her name in black marker, covered with glitter. "Did you pour the glitter on the glue all by yourself?" I asked. She nodded as she scratched at something else stuck onto the glittery letters. As she picked at it the small, red piece fell to the floor. I stuck the pad of my pointer finger on top of the fallen piece and lifted it to my face to look at it. A heart. It was a tiny, red glitter heart. Interesting. I put it on the counter as she continued to scratch off the only other glitter hearts on her project. They, too, fell to the floor. Two more. I picked them up and put them on the counter next to the first one, where I instantly had one of those, "Holy crap!" moments.

There were three hearts.

After Shock

It took a few days, but I think the initial shock of finding out THREE of our babies are growing inside Lyndsay has started to wear off. But I won't lie; it has definitely been a stressful and trying few days of researching and discussing and thinking and wondering and hoping and begging for someone to give us the right answers.

Let me retrace my steps for you so you'll understand the workings of my mind since learning about the triplets.

After the immediate panic died down the questions started forming all at once. What if Lyndsay really won't carry three babies? What risks will there be to her and the babies if she does? What if the babies don't make it? How would I be able to handle reducing from three babies to one, as suggested? Would they let me reduce the singleton and keep the identical twins even though they're higher risk? How do they perform a selective reduction?

I needed answers and I needed them quickly.

Off to Google I surfed. "Complications of triplet pregnancies." Click! "Risks of carrying multiples." Click! "Statistics of triplet births." Click! They all spit back similar replies about low birth weight due to extreme prematurity and immediate or long-term health issues such as lung and neurological problems. Some mentioned infant mortality rates while others wrote about long stays in the NICU after birth. Everything I read scared the shit out of me. I sure as Hell didn't want to put Lyndsay and my babies at risk of serious health problems. Maybe we should consider selective reduction.

Back to Google.

"Selective reduction." Click! Hmmmm...I don't need a definition. I know what it is. Why can't I find anything that tells me how it's done? How exactly do they abort one or two babies in utero while allowing the remaining one(s) to continue growing to term? Then I clicked on the first article that made me so sick to my stomach I had to stop reading halfway through it. The article, from The Washington Post, was called, "Too Much to Carry?" and the journalist wrote about the two days she spent in the office of a doctor who performs selective reductions. I'd gotten about a page into reading when I finally learned the method of aborting the fetus(es). Apparently, a syringe of potassium chloride is injected through the pregnant woman's uterus into the baby's chest to stop its heart. As if that sentence alone wasn't bad enough, a description of exactly what went on during the procedure followed:

"Destroying a fetus requires three hands: one to hold the ultrasound transducer on the patient's belly; one to inject the needle and maneuver it into a position near the fetal heart; another to draw out the metal rod at the core of the needle and replace it with the vial of potassium chloride. (The doctor)...did all these things at various times, tools close together as he worked over the patient's belly. At points, (the sonographer) assisted by holding the vial until he needed it; holding the transducer; and coaching him into position, watching on the screen and issuing directions. (The doctor) worked for a while trying to get the needle into the right spot."I'm not in," he said at one point, tensely. Then he pinned (Fetus C) with the needle, and pushed the plunger to release the chemical. The fetus, which had been undulating and waving, went still. It would remain in the womb, while the other fetuses grew and developed."

Oh. My. GOD!

No way.

NO WAY!

I'm not doing that!

The tears fell freely from my eyes as I closed the window on my computer. My face dropped into my hands and I sobbed as I thought about having to PAY someone to do this to my child, or CHILDREN, for no medical reason at all! I took a few deep breaths and e-mailed Lyndsay, "Do you know the process of selective reduction?" I asked her. "It's horrifying!" I hoped once I explained it to her she'd agree to carry all three babies as long as the doctors confirm that everyone is healthy enough, including Lyndsay. Her response of, "I don't think I could do that" made me believe she and I were starting to get on the same page and I began to relax a little bit. But then my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to read one more article about selective reduction, just in case the first one was overly dramatic. "The New Scar on My Soul" was written anonymously by an expectant father whose wife refused to carry the triplets she'd found out were growing inside her, so she decided to reduce the bundle from three to one. The husband was not on board with his wife's decision but couldn't stop her from making the appointment and, because of the guilt he felt for what was about to happen to his children, forced himself to watch the procedure:

"Before the procedure, my wife's eyes teared up; she asked the doctor over and over if they would feel pain, and was assured they would not.  I asked again if my wife was sure about this because once done, it could not be undone.  She said she was sure, but her tears and her looking away from the screen, deliberately, and her wanting me to not look either, told me the truth: she knew as well that this was wrong.  I wanted to insist that she look, but I think that her mind -- already fractured by the news of triplets -- would have snapped permanently had she seen the images onscreen.  And to save the one, and for the sake of the one we already had, I needed my wife sane.

My wife didn't look, but I had to.  I had to know what would happen to my children.  I had to know how they would die.

Each retreated, pushing away, as the needle entered the amniotic sac.  They did not inject into the placenta, but directly into each child's torso.  Each one crumpled as the needle pierced the body.  I saw the heart stop in the first, and mine almost did, too.  The other's heart fought, but ten minutes later they looked again, and it too had ceased.

The doctors had the gall to call the potassium chloride, the chemical that stopped children's hearts, "medicine."  I wanted to ask what they were trying cure -- life?  But bitter words would not undo what had happened.  I swallowed anything I might have said.

I know they felt pain.  I know they felt panic.  And I know this was murder.  I take cold comfort in knowing that as far as we can tell, the survivor is still fine, and in knowing that this decision did not come from me; I would have taken the chance on triplets, even with all the work and effort it would have required.  I pray that this one child will come to term, will be born into this world alive and healthy, and I know he or she will have all our love.

But that emotional scar will ache my whole life.  I see my child's smile every night and anticipate a new one in some months...but I think of the two smiles I will never see.  Every day, returning from work, I hear "Hi Daddy!" and know there are two voices and two giggles that I will never hear.  I play with and cuddle my child, looking forward to the same with the second...but I know there are two sets of hands that will never touch mine, two sets of toes that will never be counted, two hugs that will forever be absent from my arms."

That was it. There's no way in HELL I would let this happen to my children without medical necessity. If Lyndsay's or the babies' lives were in danger or one of them had a severe defect that would make her little life painful and constantly in and out of hospitals, it would be a sacrifice in their best interest. But just because there are too many babies? No way. NO FUCKING WAY.

When Jimmi came home and saw the redness in my eyes he was concerned, "What's wrong?" he asked. "Do you know how they reduce the pregnancy?" I cried at him. "They take a needle and stick it directly into the baby's chest and shoot it it with potassium chloride to stop its heart! And they can't even do it until she's twelve weeks pregnant!" He cringed as the words spewed from my mouth and all he could ask was, "Are you sure there isn't another way?" I knew that pure fear of raising three babies fueled his question but I could see in his face that he wouldn't make it through a procedure like I'd just described. 

How would I bring it up to Lyndsay? What would I say? I continued Googling, trying to find some positive information about carrying triplets. That's when I hit the jackpot. It was a large case study from Georgetown University Children's Medical Center with the objective of trying to determine if there is a true medical need for doctors to suggest reducing triplet pregnancies. I read through the objective and study design and results until I finally reached the conclusion:

"This large contemporary case series of triplet pregnancies demonstrates excellent survival with low associated morbidity. These data suggest that there may no longer be medical justification for offering selective fetal reduction to parents with triplet pregnancies."

That's it! That's what I needed to read! I took a screenshot and texted it right to Lyndsay. Her response was quick, "That make you feel better?" Hmmm. I was trying to make HER feel better, "Yes! You?" I replied. And the next text from her changed everything, "I'm not worried. I feel I'm healthy and have had all good pregnancies. I feel ok about it. If you can't tell, I'm against reduction. I knew that would be hard for me. I didn't like it, but they gave us such slim chances of this happening I figured I was safe!" I was floored. I told her that when Jimmi and I were with the social worker at our clinic, she asked how we felt about reduction. I immediately balked at the idea and the social worker informed me that Lyndsay had told her she was adamantly against carrying more than two babies so we should really consider her feelings since she'll be the pregnant one. She then went on to tell us how difficult it'll be if the babies end up in the NICU for weeks and how hard it would be to raise three babies and anything else she could say to convince us to agree to reduction. In the end I figured we had no choice since Lyndsay wouldn't carry them anyway. But Lyndsay never said that! As we texted back and forth I found out that, while the social worker was alone with Lyndsay and Josh, she told them Jimmi and I were against having more than two babies so they really needed to agree to the possibility of fetal reduction, in the off chance one of the embryos splits. She and Josh felt pressured, as Jimmi and I did, so they agreed.

Shut up!

So this whole time I was thinking Lyndsay didn't want to carry more than two babies and she was thinking we wouldn't accept more than two babies, when actually, none of us wants to reduce and we're all on board with triplets as long as no one's health is in danger? Are you KIDDING me? We were stressing over this for three days because the damn social worker at the clinic coerced each couple into doing what SHE thought was best? There will definitely be a phone call made to the clinic once I calm down a bit.

Now that everything was out in the open, Lyndsay and I felt the same weight being lifted from our shoulders. Sadness and worry turned to excitement and I finally allowed myself to think about how life will be with THREE BABIES! But I also need to be cautious in my thoughts and remember that we still haven't actually seen any heartbeats yet. While everyone seemed to be growing at the right pace on last week's ultrasound, that can change at any moment. The plan going forward is to take each appointment as it comes and make decisions as needed. The next step starts on Monday, when Jimmi and I will fly to Minnesota so we can be present for Lyndsay's next ultrasound where, hopefully, we'll be able to see and count our babies' heartbeats. If all goes well, we have an appointment set up for the same day with a multiple pregnancy specialist to ask any questions we might have about the risks associated with carrying triplets. If he gives us all the hope we need to continue this journey as it is, that's what we're planning to do! 

Grow, little babies! Grow! Get those hearts beating! Mommy and Daddy will see you in a few days!

Slim Chances

"I totally don't think it's twins anymore," I announced to Jimmi last Wednesday after learning Lyndsay's pregnancy hormone level had gone from 523 to 1210 in two days. "I've read that the first number doesn't matter too much, it's how the number doubles in forty-eight hours that's more telling. Doubling is normal. When it triples or more is when multiples are really suspected. It only did a little more than doubling," I continued to explain. "If I had to guess, I think we started out with twins and one didn't make it." I was referring to Vanishing Twin Syndrome, a very common occurrence with IVF pregnancies, where one twin just disappears. It probably happens in non-IVF pregnancies, too, but since "normal" people aren't monitored as closely, they may never know they had a twin in there at all. "I guess we'll have to wait until Tuesday to find out for sure," I explained, knowing an ultrasound would be the only way we'd know if one or two buns are cooking.

The days after Lyndsay's second Beta test on Wednesday dragged on until, finally, I woke up this morning with butterflies in my stomach, just waiting for the news. Her appointment was scheduled for 10:30 AM, MN time, which was 11:30 AM here. We had hoped to FaceTime during the ultrasound so Jimmi and I could watch on the screen, but the hospital nixed that idea for some stupid privacy policy. At 11:30 on the nose I got a text from Lyndsay, "I'm here." My heart started pounding as I read her next text, "BTW, my blood count was outrageous today!!" It had been six days since her last test, so I started multiplying 1210 x 3 (since they should double every two days) in my head as I asked, "What is it???" My mental calculator wasn't working, so her response of, "14,747!!!" didn't get a fair reaction until I asked Jimmi, who was in the car with me, "What's twelve-hundred and ten times three?" He said, "About four thousand. Why?" I laughed when I told him Lyndsay's number and he shook his head, "I guess it's definitely twins then, huh?" 

As we drove the puppy to daycare for her weekly socialization, I waited anxiously for the phone to ring with a confirmation of our double blessing. Finally, as we were standing outside daycare with the dog trainer, my phone started buzzing in my hand. "I have to take this," I said as I backed away to get a bit of privacy. "Hello?" my voice was shaking. I don't care if it's one or two, but please let everything be ok. PLEASE let everything be ok! "Hey Suzanne, it's Lyndsay," she said with a strange tone to her voice. "So? What did you see?" I asked, hoping for good news. "Well," she began, "there are definitely two sacs!" But she still didn't sound right. Is one sac empty? Did we lose one? Is something wrong with my babies? "Did you see babies?" I questioned, knowing at this early stage, all we might see is a yolk sac and not much more. Heartbeats aren't usually visible until at least week six. "Yeah, we saw them," she confirmed. Them? Did she say them? "So there are two?" I asked with excitement. "We saw one in sac A, but in sac B..." Oh no! It's empty! She didn't make it! "there were two." 

Wait. What? 

"What?" What did she say? "The second embryo split. There's one in sac A and two in sac B." 

WHAT? 

I had heard her both times but all that would come out of my mouth was, "Wait, what?" She laughed, "Are you ok?" At this point Jimmi was looking at my face and realized very quickly what was going on, even before I said, "There are THREE?" I silently started cursing all the jokesters on Facebook who commented that we were gonna have triplets, as I insisted that couldn't happen since we were only transferring two embryos and the chances of one of them splitting was like 1%. "Are they sure?" I asked, looking all around for Ashton Kutcher and a camera crew from Punk'd. But no one appeared. "The tech kept looking at sac B and then she finally showed me why. I have pictures. I'll send them to you." 

A zillion thoughts were spinning around my head after the phone call ended. Triplets? How are we gonna take care of THREE babies?! "You know two will be identical and one will look totally different, right?" I said to Jimmi then proceeded to explain that the randomly splitting embryo produced identical twins, while the singleton would be fraternal. Wait! We aren't gonna have three babies! In the contract we signed with Lyndsay there is a specific clause about multiples. She only agreed to carry one or two, but not more than that. We have to reduce one! The tears immediately stung my eyes as I turned to Jimmi, "I don't want to kill one of our babies! They said this wouldn't happen! They said it was so rare we wouldn't have to worry about it!" But isn't that also what Dr. L said about my cancer diagnosis after another doctor suspected I had Small Cell Neuroendocrine Carcinoma of the Cervix? Yes, I believe his exact words were, "The chances of you having Small Cell are like three percent. Maybe a hundred in every hundred thousand cases of cervical cancer is Small Cell." And look what happened there! I was one of the hundred! Hell, I shouldn't even be alive today, right? My chances of surviving two years after diagnosis were like 20%. That's not a lot. I probably wouldn't take a bet with 20% odds at a casino because the odds suck! But here I am! And now we're pregnant with TRIPLETS! Damn overachieving embryos causing mischief for their parents already! That's it! They're grounded! I called my mom to give her the news and the waterworks started again. She talked me off the ledge, as she tends to do a lot, and told me not to worry until we have a real reason to worry. After all, it's still too early to see heartbeats and anything can happen at this stage. "I hate to say this but I hope there are only two heartbeats next week so we don't have to make this decision," I cried. "I don't want to kill my babies!" Jimmi and I drove in silence for a little while after I'd hung up with my mom. I just kept shaking my head at the thought of three infants and three cribs and three proms and three college tuitions and three weddings. Add the other two kids I already have and you'll see why the panic attacks started. "I think we might have to break down and buy a minivan," I joked as the words I never thought I'd say spilled from my mouth.

When we got home I immediately started scouring the Internet for information on the risks of carrying triplets, the risks of triplet births and the risks of selective reduction. Nothing I read about either decision did much to ease my mind. I was terrified and I just wanted the nurse from my clinic to call and tell me what the actual ultrasound report said. Lyndsay and I had been texting throughout the day and I was surprised at how calm she seemed. Shocked? Yes. Freaked out? Maybe. Against carrying all three of my babies to term - or as close to term as triplets can get? Didn't seem to be. "How do you feel about this?" I asked her. "It's in our contract that you'll only carry two." I didn't have to wait long for a response, "I have very mixed feelings about it. I personally don't like the thought of getting rid of one if we are all healthy and doing well, but that is your call. I think we should wait and see what happens with the heartbeats and what the doctors suggest." That was a great answer. I chilled out for a few minutes until I read an article about a woman who chose not to reduce her triplets and all of the problems she'd had during late pregnancy. And the issues the babies had after they were born were scary as all Hell! Of course, she ended the article talking about how all three kids are now four years old and doing well and she can't imagine the thought that one of them might have never been born. Well, that wasn't helpful at all. Then I started reading about selective reduction and the chances that reducing one might end in a complete miscarriage. Finding out that it happens frequently wasn't very helpful to my decision either. I knew, in the case of reduction, they'd have to dispose of the singleton because the identical twins are in the same sac. Removing one of those would be way too dangerous for the other one. But then I found out I was wrong. As I read further I learned that, when two embryos share a sac and the other is alone, they reduce both babies in the shared sac and leave the singleton because one baby is less of a risk to carry than two. Are you KIDDING me? So if we choose to lessen our pregnancy, it won't go from three to two, it'll go from three to ONE? Then there's still a chance that the singleton won't make it? This is BULLSHIT! 

The phone started ringing. Finally, it was my nurse at the clinic, "Hi Suzanne. I guess you've already heard about the ultrasound?" she said with slightly less bounce in her voice than she usually expresses. "Yes. I know there aren't any visible heartbeats, but do we know if they're all viable?" She sighed and answered cautiously, "I don't know if this is good news or bad, but Lyndsay's numbers are great, all three embryos are measuring perfectly and everything looks healthy." I understood why this seemingly awesome news might not be so awesome. "The contract says she won't carry more than two. I don't want to kill my babies!" I started getting hysterical and she quickly tried to calm me down, "Look, it's so early. You haven't even seen the heartbeats yet. Anything can happen," then she continued, "But next week, if all three have strong heartbeats, you might have some decisions to make." I couldn't think straight, "Is it true we'd have to get rid of the identical twins and leave only one baby?" I could tell she was starting to feel my pain and offered to have one of the doctors call me back to answer my questions more thoroughly. "Ok, but please have him call now," I urged. "I'm taking my son to the orthodontist in fifteen minutes." My wish was her command as we'd barely been off the phone for 60 seconds when it started ringing again, "Hi Suzanne, it's Dr. M," he said. My voice broke as I responded and I could hear the concern on the other end, "You sound like you're crying. Are you ok?" I burst into tears, yet again, "No! There are three and I don't know what to do! Does this happen a lot?" He took a breath, "The chances of both embryos implanting and one of them splitting on top of it are about point five percent. It was a one in ten-thousand shot." Here we go with my Goddamn slim chances again. Why don't I play the Lottery more often? "So what are we supposed to do?" I asked hoping he had the magical answer. "Honestly, a lot of people give birth to healthy triplets these days. There are definitely more risks associated with it, though. Lyndsay would probably be on bed rest from about eighteen to twenty week until delivery. They'll most likely be very premature, though I've seen triplets go to thirty-six weeks. They may be very small and have to spend a few weeks in the NICU, which isn't fun." I asked about selective reduction. "It's really up to you, but reducing may not be a bad idea. Three babies is a lot to handle financially and emotionally." I had to ask, "Would you take the two identicals or the singleton?" He gave me the wrong answer, "We would take the two in the same sac because a single baby poses the least risk. The others might have twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome or other issues that we wouldn't have to worry about with a single baby." Not helping. "What are the chances the entire pregnancy would terminate if we reduced one or two?" I asked. "I have to be honest. It does happen. But, if it's done by a team with experience, it's only about a five percent chance of losing them all. That's not very much." Are you KIDDING me, Doc? You're talking to the Queen of slim chances here! "Let's not worry about this yet," he continued. "It's still very early and anything can happen. Nature may take the worry out of your hands," I knew he was talking about the possibility of seeing less than three heartbeats next week. "And you'll have some time to make the decision after next week," he assured me, "because we won't even do the procedure until about ten to twelve weeks into the pregnancy." WHAT!? What did he say? "Twelve weeks?" I shrieked. He could hear the pain in my voice, "I know it'll be much harder at that point, but we need to wait until it's safest for the remaining baby or babies." Oh my GOD! At twelve weeks it's a real baby! It's not a blob on a screen! It's MY BABY! "Try not to think about it yet," he attempted to calm me to no avail. We hung up the phone and my heart started to break.

And here I sit, quietly at my computer, in a daze and confused. I should be excited, right? I wanted one baby and now I'm having three. Of course I have the option of tossing two of them aside and hoping the remaining one makes it through. Or I can ask Lyndsay to carry all three and risk complications all around. What an awesome position I'm in right now! What's right? What's wrong? What's best for the babies? What's best for Lyndsay? 

I have no idea.

Jimmi and I are flying to Minnesota on Monday so we can be there for Lyndsay's next ultrasound on Tuesday. As awful as it sounds, I'm praying for only two healthy heartbeats. I want this decision taken out of my hands. It's just too hard.

Numbers Don't Lie...Or Do They?

"We totally need to buy that," I gushed at Jimmi as I pulled the tiny, pink onesie off the rack at Buy Buy Baby on Saturday night. Being a woman, or master of manipulation, I was able to get my husband to the store under the pretense of "just looking," but I barely made it ten steps in before I wanted to purchase every pink or purple item I spotted. But this one shirt was really so perfect. It was just a basic pale-pink onesie, but the words printed on it made me laugh out loud, "This shirt is Daddy-proof" was written across the front. Above that read "Head" with an arrow pointing up, two arrows labeled "Arm" were pointing to the holes on either side and down at the bottom, where the back meets the front, was an arrow pointing down to the word "snap." It was brilliant! Jimmi didn't quite understand why I found it so amusing, but it won't be long before it becomes very clear. We continued walking through the store, out of the clothing section where I could've maxed out my credit cards with one swoop of sequins, glitter and bows, and landed in the pharmacy aisle. "Wow," I gasped as I realized how many new and ingenious breakthroughs have been made in snot-sucking since my boys were babies. There were the basic hospital bulbs, which never really worked. Then I saw a battery-operated mucus removing device, which seemed like something I might put on my registry in the future, and then, "Ewwwww!" I screamed as I grabbed the box in front of me. This can't be what it looks like. Can it? The tool was called the "Snotsucker." No fancy name was necessary for this product, though I couldn't believe how accurate the moniker was. The small package had a very simple cartoon drawing on the outside of it. The lower part of the box showed a smiling baby with great, big eyes. In his nose was a thin, blue tube connected to a clear tube connected to a thin, red tube that was being sucked by what appeared to be the mother's lips. "What the Hell is THAT?!" Jimmi shrieked with the same disgusted look I knew I had. "I think you're actually supposed to suck the snot out of the baby's nose with your mouth!" I had to be interpreting the picture incorrectly so I quickly turned over the box to read the words. Nope, I was right. "Gross!" Jimmi said, and we both decided it was time to move on to a less scary aisle for beginner and renewing parents of infants.

A few more steps brought us to the land of bouncy seats. Well, they used to be bouncy seats. Now they're high-tech, swooshing, music-playing, ocean-breezing, rocking and gliding mega-seats. And there were so many choices! "How do we know which one to get?" I asked out loud as I watched Jimmi's head actually explode. "Ok, we'll figure this out later. Let's look at carseats and strollers," I suggested as we walked past the furniture. "Good thing I still have Dylan and Justin's crib." We entered the travel section and it was almost like a game show where you had to guess which one would be the best option. I'll take the carseat behind Door number three for $450, please! Wait, what? Does that price tag really say $450? For a carseat? And obviously we'd want an additional base for the other car, right? $219? For a BASE? Is it made of GOLD? We tried to find more reasonable options that would still protect our baby in case of an accident but the selection was overwhelming. Though, Jimmi did find a toddler seat made by a popular race car company, and that almost made him seem more excited than scared to death about becoming a dad. Finally we perused the barrage of strollers. "Yes!" I exclaimed, "They DO have a double Snap n Go!" Jimmi's face told me he had no idea what I was talking about. "A Snap n Go is the best invention ever! It's just the bars and basket of a stroller that any carseat will snap into. It's lighter weight and easier than dealing with a huge stroller." I could see he still wasn't processing the "double" part. "Hey, listen. Twins are a real possibility so you may want to get used to the idea." 

Obviously I'd considered the twin thing. I mean, we transferred two embryos into Lyndsay, so it's not that farfetched of a concept. But, until that moment, I hadn't actually thought about anything other than having twins means having two babies. I didn't think about two carseats and two high chairs and two bouncers and double strollers and another crib and twice as many diapers and bottles and clothes. The dollar signs started adding up in my head and I must've looked completely bewildered when I heard, "May I help you with something?" I snapped out of my visible shock and answered the saleswoman, "We're just looking right now, thank you." She smiled, "Are you newly expecting?" I felt myself relax as I nodded, "Very newly, yes." She congratulated us and I couldn't help thinking about how much fun it'll be to screw with people by telling them I'm pregnant and watching their confusion as my weight never changes but a baby magically appears in the spring. Maybe I'll even walk around with a beer in my hand for the next nine months! 

After returning home that night Jimmi disappeared into the basement to rehearse for his upcoming drumming gig and I went to consult with my good friend, Google. Lyndsay was scheduled for a blood test to determine her HCG level on Monday and I was really curious to know what the number should be for a singleton (one baby) and what it might be if she's carrying twins. What I found didn't help much. Generally the levels are lower with one baby and higher with multiples, but most of the websites I read mentioned that the more important factor is how much the level rises after two days. In order to consider it a normal pregnancy, the number is expected to at least double. If it goes up much more than that, multiples might be possible. Of course, the only true test to determine how many babies we're having will be an ultrasound, but that's not for another week or so.

On Sunday morning I texted Lyndsay to check in. I was a bit nervous to hear that she wasn't feeling well and decided to stay on the couch all day. Being the paranoid Googler I am, I checked her symptoms with early pregnancy and found them to be pretty common. She also mentioned overdoing it a little bit the day before and assumed the extra exertion might have been the culprit. "You're not bleeding or cramping, right?" I texted. "No, nothing like that," she responded and a sense of ease came over me. I thought back to being newly pregnant with Dylan when I decided it was a good idea to hop over the seats at a Bon Jovi concert instead of waiting for the people next to me to exit my row. The next day I was a crampy, nervous wreck and my mom reamed me out for it! Obviously everything worked out and Dylan was fine. I guess our bodies tell us when we need to slow down and rest for a bit. About an hour later Lyndsay sent me a picture of a pregnancy test and I was a little confused until I read the text, "I just took the final test I had cause I'm obsessive!! Look! Lines exact same color. :) Getting darker by the day!" I couldn't stop the smile from overtaking my face at the meaning of what she'd just written. Pregnancy tests respond to the level of HCG (pregnancy hormone) in your body. The more pregnant you are, the more HCG you produce. More HCG means darker lines on a pregnancy test. As far as the latest picture showed, things were still moving along with our little pumpkin!

Buzz!

Buzz!

I heard my phone vibrating early this morning and noticed the Minnesota area code right away. It was the call we were waiting for! Lyndsay's blood test was scheduled for that day and she told me if she was able to get it done before work she should be able to pull up the results by 9:00 AM, EST. Let me first say that we're totally cheating. Aside from the fact that Lyndsay was told not to take a home test, which she and I both blatantly ignored, she is also in a position to get her blood results before our fertility clinic calls either one of us because she works at the hospital! It's nice to have friends on the inside. Anyway, my hand was shaking as I answered the phone. Why was she calling and not texting? Was something wrong and she wanted to tell me instead of writing the bad news? "Suzanne? It's Lyndsay," she said. "I have my blood level results." I have no idea why I was so scared, "And?" was all I could get out. "Five-hundred twenty-three," she answered. Ok, that sounded high, but I remembered everything I'd read about the first test not meaning much without the second. "Is that high?" I asked naively. Her voice boomed into the phone, "That's HUGE! You're totally having twins!" I laughed as I tried not to get too excited, "Well, I read that it might not mean anything yet." She laughed, "When I carried for my cousin my first test was two-hundred and sixty. This is five-hundred and twenty-three!" Ok, I couldn't argue with that. I hung up and texted Jimmi, who was downstairs, "Lyndsay's levels are at 523." He didn't write back but yelled up to me, "Does that mean twins?" I called back, "It's definitely possible!"

I didn't want to over think the number until I heard from our clinic, and the nurse was taking forever to call! Finally, at about 1:00, I saw the number appear on the phone. "Hi Suzanne! I have Lyndsay's blood results," she said cheerily. "We're pregnant, right?" I tried to play dumb. "Yeah, you could say that. Her HCG was five-hundred and twenty-three, so you probably have two growing in there." I needed clarification, "Can you really tell just from the HCG level?" She answered, "Well, not totally. We really need to see how the number rises on Wednesday. But I can tell you that we usually like the first test to be between fifty and ninety. Yours is five twenty-three. Pretty safe bet you're having twins." I tried not to burst with joy since I know more than one person who started out with twins and ended up losing one or both before the first trimester was finished. "I'm gonna call Lyndsay now and let her know her results. I also want her to raise her dose of Progesterone because that level dropped a bit. It's still in the normal range but we want it back where it was. I'll call you on Wednesday when I have her next blood levels," she said. "Can you just tell me her due date?" I asked. "Looks like May 18th," she said, "that would make her about four weeks pregnant." We ended the call and I sent a text to Jimmi at rehearsal... 

"Looks like twins." 

The Morning After

Nothing like finding out you're pregnant on Thursday and having to immediately shift gears back into cancer-mode on Friday morning. But, this is what my life has become. An endless cycle of enjoying good news for a short while before the reality check smacks me back into perpetual fear.

In other words, Friday was Scan Day.

Every three months for the last two years I've had to have a CT scan of my chest, abdomen and pelvis to check for cancer recurrences. Sometime during the same week, usually two days later, I'll have an appointment with my oncologist to hear the scan results and suffer through a rather painful internal exam. I realize these exams are uncomfortable for all women, but for those of us who've had that area radiated, it's an entirely different level of discomfort, usually followed by a few days of bleeding from the damaged skin inside the vagina being ripped apart as the speculum opens it up enough for the doctor to look inside. Yeah, it's a real party! Anyway, the system for my check-ups changed slightly during the last round because of the back pain I was experiencing. Scans were moved up and extra tests, like an MRI and PET scan, were ordered. After going back and forth for weeks trying to determine the cause of the new pain, I was told I had a small fracture in my pelvic bone caused by radiation damage. But, just to make sure, a follow-up MRI was scheduled ten weeks later, along with my regular CT scan, to make sure what appeared to be a fracture wasn't growing or spreading or multiplying, indicating that it may actually be cancer. Oh, the joy of the unknown! When the office called to schedule all of my tests and appointments I was surprised that they were all being stuffed into one day. "Is it ok to do the CT scan and the MRI back to back?" I asked the scheduler. "They'll need to inject two different dyes into me and I have to be pre-medicated for the MRI because of a previous allergic reaction." I was put on hold for a minute then the voice came back to the line, "I just spoke to the radiologist. It's not a problem to do them back to back. So you're all set for nine-forty on September sixth for your CT scan, followed by your MRI at ten and your appointment with Dr. L at eleven. And don't forget you'll need to be here an hour earlier to drink the oral contrast and get set up with your IV." Yeah, I know. I hung up the phone and groaned audibly. As much as I wanted to shout at the scheduler, "Don't you know I don't do mornings!" I decided to suck it up and deal with the early appointments for one day.

The prep work for my tests started on Thursday night at 9:00. That's when I choked down the first of three doses of Prednisone I'd need to take before my MRI to reduce the risk of anaphylaxis when the dye is injected into my vein. Before I went to sleep that night I set my alarm for 3:00 AM, 7:00 AM and 9:00 AM. The first buzzer jolted me out of a dead sleep to pop my second pill, the second buzzer was my actual wake-up call, though I never really fell back to sleep after the first alarm, and the third buzzer would be a reminder to take my final dose of Prednisone, along with 50 mg of Benadryl.

In order to get to the cancer center in time for my 8:40 check-in time, I needed to leave my house at 7:40. Damn rush hour traffic! I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything but water before the CT scan, so coffee was not an option. Wanna see me in a really bad mood? Force me to wake up early, don't allow me to eat, deny me a cup of coffee and make me go to the cancer center for scans and an internal exam. I'm surprised I didn't bite the receptionist's head off when I checked in at the radiology desk. She handed me a clipboard with the paperwork I had to fill out each time I'm there and I sat down with my mom, who had met me in the parking lot, and started flipping through the pages. "They told me they were gonna put a note in my file so they wouldn't give me this one again!" I said when I saw the the question that always hurt my heart. "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" No, morons, there is NO CHANCE I will EVER be pregnant! I don't have a uterus anymore! Look at my chart! Wait! And a mischievous smile crept over my face as I looked at the options below the question. "I am pregnant. I think I am pregnant. I am not pregnant." I texted a picture to Lyndsay and asked, "How do I answer this?" I thought about adding a fourth option "I'm sort of pregnant" but didn't think the staff would enjoy my humor so I checked the box next to "I am not pregnant" and moved on to the MRI questionnaire about whether or not I have any metal in my body. Only one answer had changed since the last time, "Do you have a BB anywhere in your body?" I checked "yes" next to that question and giggled as I remembered the techs finding the pellet my 14 year-old boyfriend had shot into my ass in 1989 that had apparently been there ever since. I returned the completed forms and was handed a large bottle of nasty, red "fruit punch" and I knew I had one hour to drink the oral contrast down to the bottom of the label.

"Suzanne?" It was my turn. I gave my mom a kiss and followed the nurse into the always freezing, tiny room with a chair and a sink where she'd start my IV. It's almost comical how similar the experience is every time. "It's cold in here," I'll announce as the nurse du jour runs out to get me a warm blanket. When she returns I'll spell my name and tell her my date of birth, then she'll ask me which arm she should use for my IV. My answer is always the same, "Whichever you want. I only have one really good vein but it has a lot of scar tissue and I'd rather use another one." Then the faceless nurse will check over my arms, push down in a few locations, realize I'm correct about the overused vein being scarred and look around for another one. Today's nurse decided to change things up a bit. I never look when the IV is going in, but I felt her pushing on my good vein which is actually my bad one. Then I felt the cold of the alcohol wipe cleaning off the area, "Are you using the scarred vein?" I asked her. "Don't worry, I'm going above the spot with the scar tissue," she lied as she took the easy way out and went right into the area I specifically asked her to avoid. What a great way to start the day! And it didn't get better from there. "Hi, I'm Tech S," said the mopey and never pleasant radiology tech I've seen many times before. "I'm here to take you for your CT scan." I tried to keep up as he grabbed my IV bag and basically ran across the hall to the room with the giant machine. "Ok, you're gonna lie here with your head on the pillow and your legs down there," he pointed. Then he covered me with a blanket and instructed, without a hint of empathy, "Pull your pants down to your knees." I tried to break the grump out of him with a smile as I positioned myself on the table, "I know. I'm an old pro at this." He was clearly not amused and my statement, instead of chilling him out, made him seem even moodier because he said nothing at all after that. The only way I knew he had left the room to start the test was because I heard the door close behind him and the motor on the machine start to hum. Soon the table started moving into the giant white circle and I closed my eyed. Here we go! "Breathe in," said the recorded voice. "Hold your breath," it continued. "Breathe," it finished. I followed the instructions twice before the table brought me out of the circle and I knew it was time to be injected with the first dose of dye I'd have that day. Captain Curt came back to tell me we were just waiting for the nurse, which I already knew. It seemed to be taking longer than it normally did and the hum of the motor slowed then shut off completely. Tech S left the room without an explanation and I assumed it was to turn the machine back on. The sound of everything starting up again told me I was correct, but then I heard Tech S taking to someone in the control room and the table began moving back into the machine. That's weird, I thought to myself. "Breathe in," said the recorded voice again. I listened, though I was very confused. Why were they repeating this part of the scan before injecting me with dye? "Hold your breath." What's going on? Did they see something in there and they need another picture of it before the dye? "Breathe." The table moved out after the two additional pictures and the nurse came in to inject me. Back into the spinning circle I went, being told to breathe in, hold my breath and breathe three more times...wait...four. Isn't it usually three times after the injection? Something must be wrong. The table moved back and the machine shut off. Tech S came back just long enough to tell me to pull up my pants, then he handed my IV off to Tech J, the MRI tech who had discovered the BB last time, and I followed her to the next small, freezing room with a chair and a sink.

"You'll have to get undressed for the MRI," said Tech J, who was every bit as sweet as Tech S was sour. "I know it's cold in here but we'll get you some warm blankets as soon as you get into the MRI." She left the room and I changed into a gigantic blue robe, then I followed her to a walk-in metal detector followed by a handheld metal detector and finally into the room with the next giant machine with a moving table that would take me into the scanning coffin. Tech J handed me some ear plugs and helped me onto the table. She put a bolster under my knees, stuck an emergency call ball into my hand and headed out to start the scanner. I immediately noticed that the sound of the MRI machine running sounded like a tweeting bird. Actually, it was more like a bird tweeting on top of a hip hop beat. I closed my eyes as the table started moving, not wanting to make the same mistake as last time when I accidentally opened my eyes too soon and saw how tightly packed I was in the machine. It was like being buried alive. Tech J's voice came over the speaker, "Ok, this first test will take four minutes." And the buzzes and beeps and clicks began. It was like being inside of a video game. "Six minutes for the next one," said Tech J. I listened to the birds chirping and the machine guns shooting and the sledgehammers pounding for what seemed like hours until my body started to relax and I drifted off to...Gasp! I can't breathe! Oh my GOD! I'm having an allergic reaction to the dye! I need to sit up!

Wait!

I'm breathing. I'm fine! Was I dreaming? They haven't even injected the MRI dye yet. How did I fall asleep with all that noise? Ah, must've been the Benadryl. I'm so glad I didn't actually move or I would've had to repeat the entire 25 minutes I'd already done. "Ok, we're taking you out for your injection now," said Tech J as the table started moving. My heart raced as the nurse started to slowly push the plunger into my arm and I wondered if my dream was actually a premonition. Would the pre-meds work to stop the allergy this time? "You ok?" the nurse asked after the dye had officially made it into my body. I took a few breaths and nodded. "Ok, here we go," said Tech J and the table moved back for the last time. "Four minutes...six minutes...four minutes..." This is taking forever! I thought with each announcement of the length of the next test until the machine finally stopped and the table took me out of my shallow grave. "Sorry it was a little longer than last time. They ordered some additional pictures," Tech J explained. What? "Who ordered them? Why?" I asked, knowing now there had to be a problem. "The radiologist. They just wanted to have a better look." A better look at what?! But I didn't actually ask because I was sure she wouldn't tell me the real answer. I just followed her to the dressing room to change back into my clothes before my appointment with Dr. L, which was kind of pointless since I'd just be getting naked again once I got down there, then I headed to the waiting area to get my mom and Jimmi, who had arrived while I was in the MRI.

Dr. L's waiting room was unusually empty and my second favorite nurse came out to get us immediately. "Congratulations!" she squealed with her huge smile, "I heard the good news!" I knew she was referring to our little bun (buns?) in the oven because I'd called Nurse L, my favorite nurse, the day before to ask a question about my pre-meds and I spilled the beans. Clearly she had done some bean-spilling of her own! "Thank you," I gushed as we all followed her to an exam room where I had the seat of honor, complete with stirrups. "Is he examining you today or just giving you your scan results?" I guess that answered my question but I asked it anyway, "He has the results already?" The nurse nodded. "Then both, I guess." I was glad I didn't have to wait out the weekend, but I instantly started sweating and my heart started pounding. "You need to relax," said the nurse as she read the monitor attached to my finger, "your heart rate is at one-hundred and twenty beats per minute!" I tried to slow my breathing enough to get a normal reading. When she was done she handed me a sheet and instructed me to take off everything from the waist down and put the sheet over my lap.

Dr. L walked in followed by Nurse L, who was smiling. "I'm so excited for you!" she said as I pulled out my phone to show her the picture of Lyndsay's pregnancy test. "Did you tell him?" I asked pointing at Dr. L. "Let me see," he said as he reached for my phone. "You found someone?" he asked, obviously referring to our gestational carrier. I couldn't help myself, "No. I'm pregnant! It's a miracle!" Dr. L's face took on a look of confusion until I let him off the hook, "I'm kidding! Yes, we found someone!" We talked babies for a few minutes until he held up the report from the radiologist and announced, "Your CT was normal. Everything looks good." My mom let out the breath she was holding but I wasn't satisfied, "What about the MRI?" I asked. "I don't have that report yet. It's too soon. But I saw the pictures and they look the same as last time," he tried to soothe me. "Are you sure?" I challenged. "Well," he said, "I'm not a radiologist. But I didn't see anything." Not good enough. "When will you have the report?" I asked. He told me he would definitely call me by the end of the day, but if I didn't hear anything I should call and check in. Then Nurse L helped me get my feet into the stirrups while Dr. L told me to scoot down to the edge of the table. My mom and Jimmi moved to the other side of the curtain before the real fun began. "That's the smallest speculum, right?" I asked as the dreaded instrument made its way from the nurse's hand to the doctor's hand then headed right for my radiation-damaged snoochie. "It's the smallest one we have," he said as the overly-lubed up plastic made its way in and opened up the area so the doctor could take a look and make sure everything was still a healthy pink. I cringed as he moved it up and down and all around then pulled it out only to replace it with a gloved finger. "Are you using the vaginal moisturizer?" he asked as he felt around my love canal. "No," I answered honestly. "Can you tell?" He shrugged, "You should really use it every day to keep the area soft and elastic. And you should use your dilator at least three times a week too," he said, referring to the medically prescribed dildo that sits in my drawer collecting dust. "I keep telling you I hate that thing!" I whined stubbornly. "Look," he said, "the radiation damage never stops. It only gets worse. If you don't moisturize and keep the area open you could have a lot of problems." I had to make another joke, "Can't I just use Jimmi every day?" He managed a small smile, "You can if you want, but you need the moisturizer too. It's not lubrication. It's more like hand lotion to use every day." The words just fell out of my mouth, "If he's using hand lotion every day he won't be able to help me!" I could actually see Jimmi's face turning red behind the curtain. Dr. L removed his gloves and I sat up, "Everything looks and feels normal," he said. "I'll call you with the MRI results and I'll see you again after the holidays."

I wouldn't allow myself to continue my baby excitement until the MRI report was officially read. An hour went by, then two, then three. By 4:30 I couldn't stand it any longer and I called Dr. L's office to ask if the results were in. A message was sent to Nurse L to return my call and an agonizing hour went by before I saw her number on my caller ID. "Hi Suzanne. Sorry it took so long but I wanted Dr. L to read to the report himself before I called you with results," Ok, fine. TELL ME!! "It says, 'there are many micro fractures in the right side of your sacrum. This is not cancer. It is caused by weakened bones due to radiation damage.' So it's nothing bad," she said. I had to have more information, "So there was one fracture a few months ago and now there are a lot of them? Are you sure it's not a lot of little spots of cancer?" Nurse L replied, "This can happen with radiation damage. You have to be really careful how you work out from now on, but he wants you to make sure you do something to keep the bones and muscles strong. You need to find exercises that won't put pressure on that pelvic bone. No running, no bicycles nothing on a mat on your back." Well, that just described my entire workout routine. "Ok," I said, still not totally convinced, "As long as it's not cancer."

I've let the results sink in for a few days and I've decided to trust that my doctors know what they're talking about and allow myself to be excited about the next phase of our lives that is currently growing inside Lyndsay. She'll have her official blood test on Monday, and if it confirms what the home pregnancy tests have told us, she'll have another blood test on Wednesday. As long as her HCG levels double (or more!) in those two days, we'll start counting the weeks until the first and scariest trimester is over. Keep your fingers crossed! Grow baby(ies), grow!!