What's in a Name?

Happy New Year, family and friends!

As you all know, we're now just over 20 weeks pregnant with a baby girl and I've been teasing all of you about spilling the beans and announcing her name for weeks. Well, here's the post you've all been waiting for! And don't cheat and skip to the end, my impatient friends. If I'm taking the time to write it, you need to take the time to read it!

Allow me to rewind a bit…

After my two boys were born and years went on without another baby, life started to change. My first marriage ended, five more years went by before Jimmi and I got engaged and then the whole cancer debacle entered our lives. I was convinced I would never have another baby again.

Enter the miracle of modern science and Lyndsay, the woman who has sacrificed her own body to give our baby a womb to grow.

At first we were expecting three babies. Triplets. All girls! Names flashed through my mind like bulbs on the old camera I had when I was a kid in the 1980s. I had always had a problem finding names I liked for my boys but the possibilities for girls were endless! And now we had THREE girls to name! We started out calling the little pumpkins Baby A, Baby B and Baby C. If you remember, Baby A was in a sac by herself but Baby B and Baby C began as one embryo that randomly split to become identical twins who were sharing a sac. 

As far as I was concerned, at least one of my babies had a middle name immediately upon conception. You see, from the moment I found out I was pregnant with Dylan, 13 years ago, I had chosen a middle name for him. Well, it would have been his middle name if he had turned out to be a girl. Which, clearly, he did not. A few years later my hope of using this super special middle name was, once again, sparked. But, alas, Justin couldn't have pulled it off either.

The name was Eileen.

For those of you who don't know, Eileen is my mom. My mom is, and has always been, my best friend. While my dad has both children and grandchildren named after him, my mom has never been given the honor. Of course, being that my mom is Jewish, it's technically against tradition to name a child after a living family member but, since I was baptized Catholic, I think I'm given a pass in this case.

But we still had three first names and two middle names left to choose!

There were some definite criteria any name had to pass to even be considered. First, it had to be easily pronounced and sound exactly as it's spelled. Trust me, growing up with a name like Suzanne is nothing short of daily torture. You'd think it would be simple, right? Suzanne. Su sounds like Sue and zanne sounds like Anne with a z in front of it. Nope, not so much. I am called "Susan" literally every day of my life. When I correct the mispronouncing fools I'm always given dirty looks and questioned with, "What's the difference?" Well, you ignorant asses, it's a totally different name! Is Lauren the same as Laureen? Is Kara the same as Karen? No! The spelling is different and the pronunciation is different! Places like doctor's offices have become battle grounds for me. Each time a new nurse enters the waiting room and calls for, "Susan?" I have to resist the urge to jump up and beat her face down into the file to read my name as it's written and not as her lazy brain wants to decipher it. 

Another no-no for names is the alternate spelling craze. Don't get me wrong, here. I actually think it's cute when people change up a "y" for an "i" or "ley" for "leigh" but, after my rant in the last paragraph, you'll understand why I feel the need to keep things simple. Easily said and easily spelled will illicit less anger on my part.  

I also wanted to make sure we didn't name our babies anything too common or anything too weird or trendy. I remember growing up with at least three Jennifers in my class from first through sixth grade. I didn't want my kids to have to be known by their last initial. Then there are the names that aren't actually names but people have somehow made them into names. I wanted to keep those out of our thoughts as well.

So now we needed to choose three first names that fit the criteria and one of them needed to flow with my pre-selected middle name, Eileen. I don't know what it was about Baby A but for some reason, right from the beginning, I felt I needed her to have my mom's name no matter what her first name would be.

Options started to flow, mainly on my part, during dinner conversations with Jimmi. Being that both of us are musical, I really liked the idea of a name that expresses our love for the art. Choices like Melody and Harmony briefly passed my lips but disappeared into the air. Then I started thinking along a different line and my openness to some more unusual choices began to grow. Jimmi has always been a huge fan of The Beatles. Personally, I could take them or leave them, but some Beatles-influenced names were real possibilities for me. "How about Lennon?" I asked and Jimmi didn't seem as turned off by the suggestion as I'd assumed he'd be. I got more creative and further away from my own rules, "McCartney?" Jimmi wrinkled his nose at the sound of it but I thought it was pretty cute. The Beatles' catalogue played through my head and names came out, one after another, "Lucy?" "Prudence?" "Penny?" "Elenor?" Only Lucy peaked our interests enough to be added it to the list, along with Lennon.

As days went on I continued brainstorming. The same few names kept coming back to me and I decided to mention them to Jimmi. "I've always loved the name Lily," I said. "Suzanne actually means Lily or Rose, so she'd technically be named after me. I like Lily and Rose together, too. My biggest problem is that Lily is so common now. Seems like it's everyone's daughter's name." How could we make it different without changing the spelling to something crazy like Lileigh? "How about Lilyrose?" I asked. "Her first name could combine Lily and Rose in one and then her middle name could be Marie, like my middle name. Lilyrose Marie." Jimmi was in full agreement with that choice and it was instantly bumped to the top of the list. "I was also thinking of Isabella," I suggested to Jimmi, fully aware that the name isn't too far off from Lily in its popularity of use these days. "Her middle name could be Christine, after your mom." Again we had a winner and I only had one more option for Jimmi, which was my favorite, and my selection for Baby A. "Scarlett Eileen," I announced proudly. Jimmi's face didn't light up the way I'd hoped. In fact, it seemed to scrunch up into a wince at the thought of his baby being called Scarlett. "What?" I asked sadly. "You don't like it?" He shrugged and shook his head, "Not really." I put my hands on my hips and insisted, "There are three babies! We'll use the names you like for the twins and Baby A can have the unique name because she's off on her own. She doesn't follow the crowd!" Jimmi smiled and nodded, "Ok, that's fine. As long as we can use Lilyrose and Isabella for the twins, Baby A can be Scarlett." And it was settled! Scarlett Eileen, Lilyrose Marie and Isabella Christine were officially named.

Until we lost the twins.

Since Baby B and Baby C were gone, common sense would dictate that our remaining Baby A would still be called Scarlett Eileen, right?

Wrong.

"I really don't like the name Scarlett," Jimmi told me after the shock of losing the twins started to calm down. "I agreed because I liked the other two names but, now that there's only one, I'm not so sure." I felt like all three of my babies had perished at that moment. In my mind, even though we were only 9 weeks pregnant, Baby A was Scarlett. How could we change her name? "I really like Lilyrose," Jimmi said. "Can we just use that name for her?" I shook my head, horrified by the suggestion, "We can't do that!" Jimmi clearly didn't understand my reaction. "That was Baby B's name! They weren't just interchangeable to me. Each baby had her own name. If we're not using Scarlett we need to pick a completely different name."

And we started all over again.

All the former suggestions were dusted off and presented again with little to no excitement. Not one new or old choice was able to give us the same warm feeling as the three names we'd fallen in love with for the triplets who will never be. "I keep going back to Lennon," I said to Jimmi one night. "It's different, it's cute, it's musical, you're a huge fan of The Beatles. We could call her Lenni for short." Again I thought back to my name criteria and Lennon, along with the middle name Lenni, was basically a laugh in the face of all of them. Oh well. It's a sweet name and there won't be many other little girls walking around with it. So, that was it. We settled on Lennon Eileen for Baby A's name.

But something about it just didn't sit right with me and, after a few days, I brought up my issues to Jimmi. "I'm not sure I like the name Lennon anymore." My husband looked at me with desperation in his eyes, clearly not ready to start another name debate. I explained myself, "First of all, it's not very feminine. I think I want something that's REALLY girly and not gender ambiguous. Also, if people don't understand the reference to John Lennon, they might think it's Lenin. L-E-N-I-N, like the communist leader." I could see Jimmi's thoughts in his head and "my wife is nuts" was spinning around  up there, more than any other. "And," I went on to finalize my reasoning, "I think her name should start with an A. We've been calling her Baby A for so long that it would just make sense to give her an A name, don't you think?" Jimmi couldn't say much. As any man knows, once his wife has something in her mind it's nearly impossible to change it. "Ok, I understand," he said.

And we started all over again.

Days went by and I would shoot Jimmi name texts as I'd think of new choices:

"Aubrey?" 

"No."

"Ava?"

"No."

And then I came up with what I thought was the winner:

"Aurora?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe" was better than "no"! We sat on that name for a few days and it started really growing on me. Until Jimmi nixed it with, "I really don't like that one."

I threw myself into Googling and researching and questioning FaceBook friends, looking for the perfect A name for Baby A. I decided to go back to the original list of musical names I'd seen so many months ago because I remembered one I'd initially skipped right over. For some reason, now, it intrigued me.

Aria.

I loosely knew the meaning of the term as a word, not a name. I knew it came from opera and I believed it was a song with a beautiful melody. I looked it up to get an actual definition: 

A long, accompanied song for a solo voice, typically one in an opera. 

I couldn't believe the symbolism I read from just that line. It's been a long journey, accompanied by doctors and Lyndsay, in order for us to complete our family. Baby A, who started out with Baby B and Baby C as a trio, was now continuing on, alone, to make her solo performance in a few months. This baby is, by definition, our Aria. I texted Jimmi, "How about Aria?" He responded quickly, "That's kind of cool. I think I like it!" But after I explained the meaning behind the name the discussions ended and Baby A took on a new identity. 

And, let me tell you, I was really excited we'd found such a simple name with such an obvious pronunciation. That is, until we told a select few people who instantly massacred it upon speaking it from their lips. So, before I have to go ballistic on all of my friends, here is your friendly lesson in how to pronounce our daughter's name:

Aria. Ah-ree-yah. It seems like the first A sound is the real problem here. Just try to remember it sounds like, "Ahhh, that's a refreshing glass of water!" If you're pronouncing it like the word "area" you're wrong. If you're using the same A sound as the one in "apple" you're wrong. It's such a beautiful and melodic name, but one mistake in the vowel sound can screw it up so quickly! Ok, everyone, give it a try. Ah-ree-yah. Ah-ree-yah. Aria. Aria Eileen. Aria Eileen Kane. 

My baby has a name!

A Baby, or Not a Baby: That is the Question.

My hands were shaking as I finished packing my overnight bag yesterday. I closed the zipper, kissed Jimmi goodbye and gave the dogs a quick pat on the head then I took the car along the same path I'd taveled to Newark Airport, just two weeks earlier. I'm not gonna lie. I contemplated changing my flights, which were scheduled for the exact same times as the last trip, in the hopes the switch would change the bad luck we'd had when we found out two of our triplets had passed away.

But I didn't.

I arrived at the airport with only an hour to spare before flight-time and checked my email in the parking lot, just as I'd done previously. Nothing from United Airlines about a flight delay. Ok, that's a good sign. I breezed through the security line and chilled out in the United Club for a half an hour until 1:33, just one minute before I was supposed to board the plane. Not like they ever start on time anyway. I lazily walked over to the gate and found a small line and a United representative checking boarding passes and sending passengers down the gangway. No way! They're actually boarding? "Excuse me?" I said to one of the line-standers. "Do you know what boarding group they're on now?" He nodded, "Group two," he replied. That was my group! Wow. Perfect timing! I strolled right past the line, handed my pass to the gate agent and shot down the long, narrow path leading to the tiny Express Jet headed for Minneapolis.

This was going way too easily.

I checked my seat assignment and the "4B" brought back memories of the beginning of my last trip. The trip from Hell. It was the same row. The row I'd purposely booked because it was close to the front of the plane, but for who knows what reason, was bumped to 9B as soon as I got on. Fingers crossed for this time. I slowly stepped onto the miniature aircraft, careful not to hit my head on the ceiling, and I immediately noticed the stench wafting through the aisle. Oh my GOD! Someone stinks! Not cool. If you know you're gonna be trapped in a cramped tube with a bunch of strangers, wouldn't you think deodorant might be appropriate? Ugh! I continued the few steps to Row 4, where I saw the empty aisle seat that was assigned to me. Yes! I tossed my bag above and happily plopped down into my seat and "fastened my seatbelt low and tight across my waist." But the green cloud of doom was looming around my nose so I around, trying to locate the culprit. I sniffed the seat in front of me. No, not him. Then I turned and sniffed behind me. Nope. I leaned into the aisle and casually sniffed 4A. Axe fresh! Oh no. No, it can't be. I slowly turned to my right and got a clear whiff of 4C which sent my gag reflex into turmoil. That smell was coming from right next to me! And, in case there was any doubt, 4C lifted his arm to adjust his vent just as my face angled at nose level. 

Oh, shit!

Let me try to explain the size of the seats on this airplane for a minute. Small would be an understatement. My right leg and 4C's right leg were basically dating at this point and my elbow was playing a game of "Whose Arm Rest is it Anyway?" with his elbow. I leaned into the aisle and noticed the flight attendant sniffing around and making a face of disgust. I leaned over a little more and nonchalantly covered my nose with my hand. I couldn't even look in 4C's stinky direction! 4A noticed my obvious dilemma and let out a giggle, "I'm so sorry for you." He said with sarcastic sympathy. I shrugged and leaned over even further. "Don't be," I quipped. "because I'm gonna be in your lap in a minute!" Just then the flight attendant came down the aisle and I stopped her and quietly asked with pleading eyes, "Are there any empty seats in the back?" Yes, I would rather sit in the back than next to Sir-Stinks-A-Lot! She understood exactly why I needed to move, "We're still boarding, but if anything is left when we're done, you're welcome to it." She continued down the aisle and 4A said, "I'm sorry, you can't move." I was confused. "I need you here as a buffer!" he laughed. As the seats filled, my situation was looking hopeless. And then I saw the flight attendant nod in my direction and I jumped up so quickly I banged my head on the ceiling above. Without looking at my offensive neighbor, I grabbed my coat, wished 4A good luck and dashed back to the empty seat in Row 10. I breathed in the fresh air and happily opened up my Sudoku book. 

And that's when the coughing started.

9A, directly in front of me, decided it would be a super idea to get on a plane where everyone is breathing recycled air when he was clearly dying of tuberculosis. The painful hacking began as the flight took off and didn't let up for the entire two and a half hours. I wanted to spray him with Lysol and  bathe myself in Purell or something. But I was trapped! Each time he coughed I cringed, but there was nothing I could do but sit there and breathe in the germs he was so generously sharing with me. Oh well. At least he smelled nice.

When we were finally on the ground I made my way thought the airport to get my rental car. I was experiencing a major déjà vu, liked I'd just been there. Oh, right. Because I had. The same socially awkward rental agent greeted me and I one-worded him in the hopes of avoiding uncomfortable small-talk. But it didn't work. After asking me three times if Kane was spelled with a K, he inquired, "Are you here with the circus?" Ummmm...What? My face told him I had no idea what he was talking about so he made things a little more weird for both of us, "Have you ever had a desire to be in the circus?" he queried. I shook my head while asking myself if this conversation was really happening. Then he closed with, "Neither have I. I'm scared of heights." 

Ok then.

I was finally released from Crazy Town and sent off to my Mazda 3 with my, hopefully working, GPS. The doors opened and the bitter cold Minnesota air stung my face. Damn! I quickly found the car, entered Lyndsay's address into the navigation system and off I went. Surprisingly, I made it to her house without an issue and was able to spend some time with her, Josh and the kids before everyone went to bed.

But sleeping was another story.

I was too nervous to sleep. The intense fear I was feeling can only be compared to the night

before I get my CT scan results. I always wonder if it'll be my last healthy night. If the next day will change my whole life again. If I'll die soon. But this time I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about my baby. The only baby left of my triplets. Baby A. It was such a shock to know I was having three babies then to see two of them on the screen, lifeless and on top of each other. The only thing that saved me from a real breakdown was the hope of Baby A's beating heart. She was still holding on for us. She was still alive. But that was two weeks ago. The doctor scheduled us for the upcoming ultrasound to check on her one more time before the first trimester is over. Yes, she seemed ok last time, but we've all seen how quickly these things can change. And, to top it off, another issue was rattling around in my paranoid mind. You see, right before the start of the freezing week, Lyndsay and Josh's furnace stopped working. That's always the way those things happen, isn't it? The new furnace was expected the day I arrived but, of course, someone messed up and it never got there. Luckily, the gas fireplace in the basement was working hard to keep the entire house warm, so the situation wasn't as bad as it could've been. Lyndsay also mentioned something at dinnertime about the carbon monoxide detector needing new batteries and I didn't think anything of it until I was nice and cozy on the inflatable mattress, in the finished basement, by the fireplace. That's when the anxiety kicked in. As Lyndsay has told me many times, I Google too much, which makes me worry too much. I'd read stories about people falling asleep with gas fireplaces going and being asphyxiated in their slumber. But that's only when the ventilation system isn't working, right? I could hear the hum of the fan and it was clear that the fireplace was fairly new and in perfect working condition. Nothing to worry about.

But I still couldn't sleep.

Finally, after fighting sleep for fear of not waking up, I gave into my ridiculous thoughts and turned off the fireplace. It was pretty toasty down there anyway, so I figured it would be ok. I quickly passed out a few minutes later. But that was short-lived. I woke up shivering at 2:30 AM, and realized if I was cold Lyndsay, Josh and the kids must be freezing! That was not ok. I hopped up, turned the fireplace back on and fell back to sleep.

My alarm woke me at 7:00 AM. Yes! I'm alive! I got dressed and headed upstairs. We needed to leave at 7:30 to drop Hunter off at school then Lyndsay, Hallie and I were off to the the clinic for an ultrasound and a follow-up appointment with the non high-risk OB. I tried so hard not to worry about what we may or may not see during the ultrasound but visions of the twins I will never meet kept overriding the positive thoughts. I just needed it to be 9:30 already. Finally, Lyndsay's appointment pager buzzed and we jumped up to follow the tech into the ultrasound room. My heart was pounding so loudly I figured they could probably hear it. Lyndsay got up onto the table and I situated myself in the chair. It was a different technician than last time so I introduced myself, "Hi. I'm Suzanne. I'm the baby's mom." She gave me a twisted stare and Lyndsay clarified, "I'm just the carrier." The tech's face showed understanding as Lyndsay threw in, "We're not a lesbian couple!" The tech laughed and assured us she didn't think we were "together" as she squirted blue gel onto Lyndsay's growing belly. My knee was bouncing up and down uncontrollably and I felt like I was about to vomit. Please, let there be a heartbeat. Please. As she moved the machine back and forth and up and down, I could see the two gestational sacs come into focus. Yes, both sacs were still there. I caught a quick glimpse of Baby A as the tech zoomed over her and moved on to measure the sac holding what was left of Babies B and C.

But I didn't see a flutter.

She seemed bigger than last time but I didn't see a beating heart. The tech started to measure Sac 2 and I interrupted her, "Can you please show me a heartbeat on Baby A? I need to see a heartbeat and then you can do whatever you need to do with everything else." She understood why I was asking and she apologized and quickly moved over to Sac 1. I saw my little Baby A, who actually looked like a baby now, but still nothing was beating. "I don't see anything," I squeaked. The tech was calm as she said, "It's moving all around, so I'm sure I'll find it!" I couldn't see the baby moving at all. Maybe she was just trying to postpone the bad news. And then she hit the zoom button and the most beautiful and amazing movement of a beating heart greeted our eyes. "There it is!" said the technician and I burst into uncontrollable sobbing. "One-hundred and sixty-three beats per minute. Perfect!" she told us after clocking the rhythm. I started to text Jimmi but decided a phone call would be more appropriate. "Hello?" he answered anxiously. "She has a heartbeat," I bawled into the phone. "Really?" I could hear my husband's combination of relief and excitement when he heard that his baby was alive and growing. "I just wanted to tell you that," I said. "I'll call you back." I watched as the technician continued looking at the tiny little princess on the screen. It was too soon to tell the sex but since Lyndsay and I kept referring to the baby as "she" the tech was curious, "You know it's a girl?" I explained, "We only put girls in!" She nodded and said, "Well, she's measuring at ten weeks and six days." I responded, "That's two days more than she actually is. That's good, right?" She smiled, "Yup. And here are her two legs," then she moved some more, "and one arm...and another arm." Wow. "You can see both arms and legs already?" She nodded again and turned the wand a bit to find the best angle for a photo op. "Oh my God! Is that her nose?" I asked when I clearly saw my daughter's profile for the very first time. "It sure is!" the tech confirmed as she printed a picture. "I wish I could see her moving like last time," I sighed. As if on cue, Baby A uncurled her body and gave us a little show, "Is she stretching?" I asked in disbelief. "She sure is!" said the tech, who obviously loved to see the excitement of her patients. When the ultrasound was over I was handed a two-foot long sheet of about ten photos of my baby and Lyndsay and I went off to her appointment with the doctor.

I know it was real before but, for some reason, today the pregnancy became official for me. As the doctor told us during our appointment, "There are no guarantees in this field, but so far, everything looks great."

3...2...1...

I should've known.

I should've know what was going to happen by the way the entire trip started. I arrived at Newark Airport with plenty of time to spare before my 2:00 PM flight to Minnesota. I found a parking spot pretty quickly and turned off the engine. I sent a text to Jimmi, who had to stay home due to a drumming gig this weekend, to let him know I'd made it safely and then I checked my e-mail. Shit! My flight's been delayed an hour! Guess there's no need to rush now. I mosied into the airport, stopped to buy a Hello Kitty doll for Lyndsay's daighter and a pack of NYFD vehicles for Lyndsay's son then made my way to the United Club, where I stayed for the next two and a half hours.

Finally it was time to board the tiny Express Jet, which has a row of two seats on one side of the plane and a row of single seats on the other. If I've never mentioned it before, I'm not a fan of flying. But, since having cancer, I've taken a whole new approach to the situation. I'd much rather die in a quick plane crash than a long, drawn-out battle with cancer. That being said, I'm still not thrilled with the smaller planes. To make these flights slightly more bearable, I try to book myself as close to the front of the aircraft as possible. This cuts down on some of the bumpiness and allows me to haul ass out the door more quickly once we're on the ground. Anyway, when it was time to leave I walked over to the gate where I instantly started feeling queasy and lightheaded. I actually needed to squat down during the line-up process to avoid falling over. Awesome! When my boarding group was called, I stood up cautiously and headed down the gangway to the awaiting airplane. The flight attendant greeted me with a frazzled smile as I passed by her and set my sights on row 4. 

Row 4 was occupied.

I looked up at the number and letter above the seats and double checked my boarding pass. "Excuse me," I said to the elderly man. "I think you're in my seat." He stared at me blankly and I looked to the flight attendant for help. "There's someone in my seat," I explained as I handed her my boarding pass. Without looking, she replied, "Are you in row four?" I nodded. "We moved you to the same seat in row nine." I didn't ask questions as I assumed the older gentleman needed assistance entering and exiting the plane, therefore required a seat closer to the door. I continued down to row 9.

Row 9 was occupied.

Seriously? I looked at the man in my seat, "Excuse me, I think you're in my seat." He spoke with authority, "You can sit in row eleven." Yeah, not happening. "I'm sorry, I was just told to come to row nine so I'm following instructions." The woman standing behind me in the aisle asked, "Were you in row four? They sent me here as well." The man in my seat still hadn't moved and the line was building behind me. An announcement came over the speaker from the front, "If you were originally seated in row four, please proceed to row nine and sit down so we can keep the line moving." That pissed me off. "I'm trying," I called to deaf ears, "but there's someone in my seat." The man across the way in row ten decided to chime in, "You can just sit in row eleven." Did I ask you, Dude? I was trying to keep my composure, "I purposely booked a seat in the front of the plane but was bumped to row nine. I refuse to go back any farther." He shrugged, "It's only one more row." Who WAS this ass? "Actually, it's two more rows. Nine plus two equals eleven." Another announcement from the front, "Once again, if you were originally seated in row four, please sit in row nine. We can't leave until everyone is seated and this is holding up traffic." I wasn't budging so Seat Stealer and his partner stood up and moved to row eleven. 

I quickly put my bag down on the single seat on the opposite side so I could take off my jacket before throwing my stuff in the overhead bin when the woman behind me, who had also been moved, said, "I need to get to my seat." I looked at her with confusion since the seat next to mine was empty, but she rudely pointed, "I'm in that one. The one your bag is sitting on." Jeez, lady, you witnessed the drama that just played out. Give me a second. I tossed my bag above so Pushy could sit down then I plopped into my aisle seat across from her. My butt had barely hit the chair when the next man in line pointed to the window seat, "I'm in there." I was about to remove my seatbelt and stand up to let him through the tightly spaced seats when he decided it would be best to just climb over me instead. "Wait! I'm getting up!" I attempted to say, but it was too late. This random man's junk was about an inch from my face when I turned my head and said, "Or just walk over me. That works, too."

Luckily, the rest of the flight was uneventful and I made it to Minneapolis at about 5:15 PM, a little over an hour later than expected. I grabbed my bag and shot up to get my rental car. An annoyingly long line greeted me and I waited impatiently for my turn. As I approached the counter I was all business, but the Midwestern politeness forced the rental agent to make small talk with me and he decided to ask what brought me to town. "I'm going to see my babies. They're growing inside someone else. Triplets, actually. She has an ultrasound tomorrow." I was well aware of the fact that I wasn't making much sense at all and the agent's jaw dropped enough for me to know he managed to figure it out anyway. "Well, that's one I haven't heard before!" He exclaimed. Just then a frantic woman ran through the doors and barged in front of me. She held up a portable GPS system in her hand and shrieked, "This isn't working! I need to go right now and this isn't working!" The flustered agent took the machine, excused himself and went to the back. I twiddled my thumbs for about 5 minutes until he returned with a presumably different device and the woman grabbed it and ran out. "Sorry about that," he said. Another ten minutes went by before I had secured my Ford Focus and had my own GPS in my hand, but I was finally on my way to the lot to get on the road.

I approached the small, silver car and immediately noticed the many dings, dents and scratches all over the driver's side and trunk. Really? I threw my stuff inside, locked the door and went to the booth in the parking lot to complain. "Excuse me?" I said with my patience wearing very thin. "This car is in pretty bad shape. I really don't care what it looks like but I want you to make a note of it so I don't get charged for the damage." He followed me over to the beat up vehicle and wrote down everything I pointed out to him. "Thank you!" I said and jumped into the car. I plugged in the GPS so I could enter Lyndsay's address into it. The screen lit up, blinked twice and turned black. You're kidding. I checked the power switch and the connection to the car. All on. I tapped the screen. I unplugged it and plugged it in again. "He fucking gave me the broken one!" I screamed at no one. I grabbed the machine, got out of the car and slammed the door. I stormed into the rental area, ignoring the entire line, and shoved the device into the agent's face. I was done being nice. "Did you give me the other lady's broken one?" I accused as the man stared at me in fear. "I...ah...no! Of course not!" I wasn't convinced but I allowed him to live, "Then this one's broken, too." He seemed legitimately sorry as he hurried to the back and instantly reappeared with a new GPS, which was switched on to prove it was in working condition. I grabbed it and ran out. Back in the car, I texted Lyndsay with a status update, "I don't want to interrupt the bedtime routine for the kids. Don't worry about saving me food. I'll grab a sandwich on my way." I punched her address into the new GPS and finally left the airport.

According to the electronic map, I'd arrive at my destination at 7:26 PM, about an hour and a half from the current time. But five minutes into the trip I saw a Subway sandwich shop and pulled off to grab a quick dinner. Ten minutes later I was back in the car and on my way. That's odd, I thought as I looked at the GPS. It still says I'll arrive at Lyndsay's at 7:26. Weird. I pulled out of the parking lot and knew I needed to make a U-turn to get back onto the highway. I was heading in the wrong direction but the electronic car on the screen still showed that I was on track. Maybe it has to readjust itself, I thought. I got back on the correct road and continued on. It's a pretty straight run to Lyndsay's, so I wasn't too concerned that the little car on the screen hadn't told me to turn at all, but an hour into the trip, the pleasant voice instructed me to make a right onto 5th Street. That's strange. I'm on a highway and the only exit coming up on the right said "60", which I assumed was a small country road. The voice kept insisting I should turn so I figured "60" was probably one of those roads with more than one name. I got off the highway and immediately found myself in the beginning of a slasher film. It was pitch black and there were no streetlights. Not a car in sight and no houses around. I continued driving, passing old farms on either side without any cows or horses or life to be seen. I don't think this is right. GPS Woman instructed me to turn left onto a road that wasn't there, and when I didn't listen - because it was impossible to make a turn anywhere - the little car on the screen made the imaginary turn for me and let me know I was heading in the correct direction on 10th Street. Ok, something is very wrong. There weren't any signs, there weren't any stores. There was no one to ask.

There was just a bunch of nothing.

I collected myself and called Lyndsay, "Hey! My nav had me get off on some random road and I have no idea where I am! The stupid thing still thinks I'm going the right way but I'm totally not." The electronic voice directed me to make another turn that wasn't there and, once again, the little car on the screen showed that I was turning when I wasn't. "Where are you?" she asked. "I honestly have no idea. I think route sixty. Does that sound right?" There was a short pause, "Let me get Josh." After I'd repeated the dilemma to Lyndsay's husband without any clue where I could possibly be, I eventually passed a sign that said, "Mazeppa! I'm in Mazeppa! I'm crossing the Zumbro River!" Josh instantly knew where I was, "Ok, you're on sixty. I grew up there so I can give you directions. Can you write this down?" I pulled into the first gas station I'd seen in like 45 minutes, which just happened to show up at exactly the right time. I took down the directions and started out again. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I tried to read directions written on paper in a dark car at night. Not the simplest task! But I was able to make it the 30 minutes to the center of their town without needing help again. Not bad.

I pulled up to the house at about 7:45 PM and was greeted by a very handsome 5 year-old who was freshly bathed and wearing pajamas. His 3 year-old sister, who I plan on stealing at some point, came out behind him, followed by his now obviously pregnant mother. "Hi!" I exclaimed, relieved to finally be there. I spent the next 45 minutes hanging out with the kids until their bedtime and then Lyndsay, Josh and I stayed up watching TV and talking a bit longer before we all crashed. The trip was finally starting to get better.

So I thought.

My alarm woke me at 6:00 AM, way too early for this morning grump. But today I jumped out of bed, ready to start my day. After all, I was going to see my babies! The ultrasound was scheduled for 7:15 AM and Lyndsay and I needed about a half an hour to get there. We made great time and checked in exactly on time for the appointment. Barely 10 minutes later the tech came to get us and led us into a different ultrasound room than last time. This one didn't have the extra monitor high up on the wall, just the one the tech would be looking at. "Ok, Lyndsay, why don't you hop up onto the table," she said. "You're scheduled for a transvaginal ultrasound..." Lyndsay let out a disappointed moan and the tech continued, "but we might be able to try it from the outside and see what we can see." A satisfied smile spread across Lyndsay's face and, having had a very intimate relationship with the ultrasound dildo myself, I understood completely. The tech squirted blue goo all over Lyndsay's belly and moved the handheld device all around until the two gestational sacs appeared on the screen. They were a bit less clear than last time, but definitely there. She took a quick picture and handed it to me, "I hear you have three of them in here, huh?" she grinned. "I'm gonna take a look at Baby A first," She pushed and turned and pushed and turned on Lyndsay's abdomen as I watched the monitor. The blob inside the sac got bigger and smaller and changed shape each time the tech moved her hand and I just wanted her stop long enough to see if my little girl's heart was beating. And then she did. And there it was. A beautiful little flutter was counted at a whopping 175 beats per minute. As we stared at Baby A she gave us a little show, waving and bouncing around like a jumping bean. She measured perfectly at 8 weeks and 5 days gestation, exactly where she should be. "Ok, let's take a look at the other ones," said the tech and she moved the machine over a bit. The blob in the second sac came in and out of focus just as the first one had, but this time it took her a little longer to hone in on what she was looking for. Back and forth, up and down, side to side. I started to sense that something wasn't right, "Is everything ok?" I asked. The tech didn't seem alarmed, "Well, they're just really close together so it's hard for me to see them." She tried a few more angles, "They're right on top of each other." I could see how hard it was to distinguish Baby B from Baby C, but that wasn't my concern. What was worrying me was the fact that I didn't see any fluttering in the double-baby blob at all. "I'm sorry Lyndsay," said the tech. "I'm gonna have to do this transvaginally so I can see better."

Lyndsay left the room to put on a gown and I didn't speak to the tech at all. Once we see a couple more heartbeats I'll stop holding my breath and I'll speak. When Lyndsay was back on the table the wand was inserted and we all stared anxiously at the screen. "Let me just go back and look at A again," said the tech as we watched Baby A bopping around all over the place. Then she moved over to B and C. "It's not much better this way, is it?" she stated as she thrusted the ultrasound phallus up so far it was almost in Lyndsay's throat. She started taking measurements but wasn't saying anything. Then finally, "They're each measuring at seven weeks and five days." Ok, so twins are usually smaller. That's ok, right? "Are they ok?" I asked without actually wanting to hear the answer I already knew. "I'm not seeing a flutter in the chest." Is she talking about B or C? "In which one?" I questioned. She was somber, "In either of them. I'm sorry." We were all silent. I don't think any of us knew what to say at that point, but, without explaining what she was going to do next, Lyndsay and I both watched her push the button to count the heartbeats per minute, and we both watched the flatline move across the screen. Then she typed in the abbreviation "no fhb." No fetal heartbeat.

Twice.

"Can I please have a picture of Baby A without the other two in it?" I asked. She nodded and printed the updated photo. When Lyndsay got up to change I allowed a few tears to escape then quickly soaked them up with a tissue. "Does this happen a lot?" I asked the tech, who nodded, "Yes it does. Especially with multiples." For the millionth time in this whole journey I didn't know how to feel. Was I sad that we just lost TWO of our babies? Was I relieved that we'd only have one? Was I scared that something would happen to the third one now? Was I mad at God for allowing this to happen? Yes. Yes, that last one. Why does God keep screwing with me? For the last three years I've had nothing but curveballs thrown at me. I finally get Jimmi to settle down and propose and I'm diagnosed with cancer four months before the wedding. I do some research and find out cervical cancer is 100% treatable, then I discover I have a super-rare, highly-aggressive, 85% fatal kind of cervical cancer. I'm told I'll probably only need to remove my cervix and can still carry a baby, then I end up with a full radical hysterectomy, including ovary removal, 4 cycles of chemotherapy and 28 cycles of pelvic radiation. We finally find someone to carry our baby for us, put two embryos in, and she miraculously gets pregnant with triplets. We freak out at the overwhelming thought of having three babies and agonize over what we should do about it, then, we finally come to terms with the thought and start getting excited over it and now they're taken away. I feel like a pawn in a cruel game.

When Lyndsay was ready we walked down the hall, back to the waiting room to check in for her appointment with the doctor. "Are you ok?" she asked me. I shrugged, "I dunno," I said. "I guess it's a little bit of a relief because it's not high risk anymore, but I'm still sad." She agreed, "Did you tell Jimmi yet?" I shook my head, "I'll wait until we talk to the doctor, then I'll call him." The nurse called us in pretty quickly and she was all smiles. Did she know? She took Lyndsay's weight then brought us to an exam room, "Who did you bring with you?" she asked Lyndsay, referring to me. "This is the mom. I'm just the carrier," she said. The nurse was surprised then so impressed by our situation. She congratulated us both then sat at the computer to get started, "How did the ultrasound go?" she asked innocently. "Not great," I said. "There was only one heartbeat." The look on her face told us she had no idea what we'd just seen and she was legitimately concerned for us. The knock at the door interrupted us and Dr. R came right in. He sat up on the side of the exam table as Lyndsay and I sat on the bench and he asked, "So do you know what we saw in the ultrasound?" We both nodded. "I know it's hard when something like this happens and we really have no explanation for it, but sometimes it means there was a problem with one or both of the babies." We nodded again, "Will this affect the other one?" I asked. "It shouldn't," Dr. R explained, "Sometimes if there are identical twins and one doesn't make it, the other one will end up with neurological problems. But that little one is completely independent of the others. They were sharing a womb, but in completely different sacs. And just to let you know, it does look as if the twins were sharing both a placenta and a sac, so that means if they had continued to grow, Lyndsay probably would've ended up in the hospital between twenty and twenty-four weeks until she delivered." Of course they were sharing a placenta and a sac! I should've known since the chances of that were like 1 in 100,000. I really should play the lottery more often.

Dr. R explained that Lyndsay's plan would now change since she's only carrying a singleton and is no longer high risk. She can stay with him or go back to her regular OB, but he wanted to order one more ultrasound in two weeks to make sure Baby A gets through the highest spontaneous miscarriage period.  When he announced that he wanted to examine Lyndsay, I took that as my cue to step out and call Jimmi. It was still very early and I knew I'd be waking him up but I didn't really care. "Hello," his groggy voice answered. What do I say? How should I put it? "There's only one baby," I announced. He was obviously confused and probably still half asleep, "What?" he asked. "There's only one. The twins stopped growing sometime last week. They were still there but their hearts aren't beating." Truth be told, Jimmi had taken a long time to accept the fact that we were having three babies, but now that he had, the shock of two of them passing was clearly upsetting to him, "What happened? Did the doctor say why? Is the other one ok?" All questions I had asked myself, and all questions without good answers. "They just stopped. It happens. The other one seems ok for now, but she's not out of the general first trimester danger zone yet." He didn't know what to say, "Wow. I didn't expect that."

None of us did.

I suppose I could go on to write about my flight home being canceled, because that was just the perfect ending to the mishaps of my 24-hour trip, but I'm choosing to stop now and let the news sink in. We're having ONE baby. Please send out positive vibes that she continues to grow and thrive and is born happy and healthy.

RIP Angel Baby B and Angel Baby C. Mommy and Daddy love you.

Stuff

When you find out you're having a baby, you obviously know you're going to need new stuff. Everything from a crib to a bouncy seat to bottles to diapers and everything in between. One tiny baby can fill a fairly large house with stuff pretty quickly.

Now multiply that by three.

The overwhelming thoughts of everything we're going to need to raise triplets started clogging my mind as I searched the web for the top rated baby products on the market today. First on my list was a stroller. I prefer one that will hold the infant car seats so I won't have to wake all three babies each time I take them in and out of the car; not something I imagine us doing very often, mind you, but one must always be prepared! I quickly Googled my beloved Snap n Go, my favorite product from Dylan and Justin's infancies. Instead of a big, clunky travel system stroller, a Snap n Go is literally just the bars of the stroller where the car seat snaps in, with a large storage basket underneath. Ok, they have a double. Shit! No triple? C'mon! They have to have a triple! I can't be the only person in the world who's expecting triplets! I scrolled to the bottom of the website, clicked the "contact us" tab and proceeded to write a very complimentary e-mail about my product loyalty and the possibility of commissioning the company to make a triple Snap n Go just for me. I mean, really, how hard could it be? I'll fast forward the 24 hours it took to receive a reply and let you know that, apparently, it's very hard. "I do apologize for any troubles in finding a stroller that would fit your every day needs. Unfortunately we would not be able to place any special orders for a stroller, as out strollers are mass produced overseas."

Bummer.

And the search continued. I found out rather quickly that the market for triple strollers is very small; even smaller when you're looking for one that will hold three infant carriers! I narrowed it down to two choices. Actually, I didn't really narrow it down; I could only find two choices! One option is called a Triple Decker, which has two models, one that holds EvenFlo car seats and one that holds Graco car seats. The other option is made by the heavily priced, Italian company, Peg Perego, and, of course, it only holds Peg Perego car seats. To save a huge blow to the pocketbook, the Triple Decker seemed like the better way to go until I read a horrible safety review from a nanny of triplets that forced the purse strings to loosen on their own. Sticker shock aside, the Peg really seemed more practical, upon further investigation. Of course, it's very large, but I'm pretty sure there's no way around that issue if I want three babies to fit in one stroller. The positive points are that it comes with three removable seats that leave just the bars to attach car seats, similar to the Snap n Go, for when they're infants then, when they get older, we can put the actual seats back in and continue using the same stroller. Sounds practical, right? Ask me again next year and I'll let you know.

To continue my stroller dilemma, it was suggested to me by a triplet mom that we buy a double and single stroller for times when I'm not alone with all three babies. Honestly, the thought of being alone with three babies pretty much sends me over the edge right into Crazy Town, so this idea seemed like a great one. So now, not only will I need a triple stroller, but a double and single one too.

Awesome!

And then we'll need car seats. Since we've pretty much decided on the Peg Perego stroller, we have no choice but to purchase Peg Perego infant seats to go with it. Luckily it's a highly rated brand, but like the stroller, the car seat carries the hefty price tag with it...times three. Oh well. At least it comes in hot pink!

With the largest items basically chosen, the one purchase I'd managed to avoid since I ventured into motherhood almost 13 years ago seemed inevitable. "I'm gonna need to get a minivan," I whined to Jimmi. "No! No minivan!" he balked. "I don't have a choice," I insisted. "We'll have five kids!" He tried to convince me that my barely two year-old SUV would fit us all but I was quick to prove him wrong. "We won't be able to fit three car seats across the second row so one will have to go in the third row. There's no way to get back there without taking one of the car seat bases completely out and flipping the seat forward to get to the third row every time we get in and out of the car." Reluctantly, Jimmi agreed that, although we have a few months before we'll actually need it, we should probably take a look at our minivan options. We made it to the Honda dealership about 30 minutes before closing time and were immediately attacked by the nearest salesman to the entrance. His accent was thick when he introduced himself, "I'm Jesus (Hey-soos, not Gee-zus), what can I help you with today?" I held my head in shame as I requested a gander at a fully loaded Odyssey. "Right this way," Jesus pointed as he directed us outside into the chilly night air and around the side of the building. Interesting that the top-rated minivan wasn't readily available for viewing INSIDE the dealership. As we walked, I explained to Jesus that I currently have two preteen sons and now we're expecting triplets. I just need to mention how much fun it is to see the looks I get from everyone I tell about the girls. Generally, after they're able to close their mouths, they'll give me a once-over and ask some form of when I'm due. Normally I'll play with them a little and confuse them with my answers, but at that moment, while in the process of looking at a minivan, I was in no mood to play. I gave Jesus the short version of our story until our walk came to an end in front of a cranberry mom-mobile. There's gotta be another option! "Go ahead and sit in the driver's seat," Jesus instructed as I cautiously opened the door, hoping my hand wouldn't fall off with the first touch. I forced myself to get into the car and sit down, all the while "oohing" and "ahhing" at the sheer practicality and convenience of the machine. Until I turned around to look behind me. "It's too small," I announced, stifling my excitement. Jesus stopped his mechanical sales pitch and instantly attempted to tell me that every minivan will be the same size, but THIS one has a built in vacuum! "That's cool," I agreed, "though a wet-vac would probably be a better idea." The poor guy looked defeated so I changed my argument back to the size of the vehicle. "Yes, there are technically enough seats," I explained, "but there are only two chairs in the middle row and a bench seat in the third row. I'll have to put two car seats in the middle, then walk the third one through the center aisle to the back row. It's doable, but not really convenient. Plus, the older boys will be very cramped back there with the baby carrier between them." Jesus was grasping at straws, "You can have one sit in the front seat, right?" You're not gonna win this argument, Dude. I have an answer for anything you're gonna throw at me. "Yes," I started, "as long as my husband isn't with us." Shot down! But I continued, "And let's say, for argument's sake, we all fit inside. What will we do with the giant stroller?" Jesus was out of ideas. But that didn't stop him from asking, "So, if I come up with the right number for you, can you put a deposit down tonight?" Seriously? What part of "there's no way in Hell I am driving this car" did he not understand? "I really don't think we can do that now, but we'll take your card and call you if we change our minds."

Jimmi and I got back into my beautiful SUV and started driving up the road. "What else can we get?" I asked him as I looked around, remembering all the other dealerships in the area. "Maybe a Navigator?" Jimmi suggested just as a Lincoln dealership magically appeared on our right. I slammed on the brake and turned the wheel quickly into the parking lot. We had about just about 15 minutes to peruse the options inside. The showroom was split; Ford on the right and Lincoln on the left. We made a left and a cocky, young manager showing way too many teeth shoved his hand out to us, "Hi, I'm Rob. What can I do for you today?" There wasn't time for smalltalk, "Well, we're having triplets and I already have two kids so..." He cut me off, "Let me show you the Navigator." He headed over to the suggested car and I was thrilled that I wasn't having the same feeling of panic as I had at Honda. Rob opened the doors and let us look inside. It was much bigger than the minivan and way more acceptable for my style. But then he opened the back. "I still don't think I can fit a triple stroller in here," I said with disappointment and a little bit of fear that I might end up with a cargo trailer attached to any vehicle I decide to buy. Just then, a salesman walked by, "You want the extended Navigator," he said, almost in a whisper, as if he was giving away a huge secret. The manager nodded and exclaimed, "That's why he's the salesman and I'm on the management team!" Cocky Rob left us with the nerdy, awkward salesman, who immediately asked for my license so I could test drive the giant car. "Aren't you closing in a few minutes?" I asked as he somehow managed to pull my phone number and e-mail address out of me. "Don't worry! It's my job to make sure you're happy!" Ok. Can you just GIVE me the car? That would make me happy! We followed Sales Nerd out to the lot and he pulled a large, white Navigator of of the last space in the back. The thing was enormous. It had two bucket seats in the second row, which could be ordered as a bench instead, and a bench in the third row. The storage area was a perfect size as well. I hopped into the driver's side and adjusted everything I needed to adjust, put the car in drive and headed out onto the main road. "It drives like a car," I said as I followed Nerdy McNerdson's directions around the block. Fifteen minutes later we were back at the dealership following the leader to the showroom. Knowing we're nowhere near ready to buy anything, I really just wanted to leave, but the sales pitch was coming! "I think you need to buy this car right now," the manager tried to joke when we returned, "because I don't think I'll be able to get it back into that spot again!" He was so proud of himself for that one and Jimmi and I faked some giggles. Sales Nerd excused himself to find a brochure and left Rob the Dick to chat with us in his absence. "Wow, triplets," he said. "You must be freaking out!" That's helpful, Dick, I mean Rob, thanks. "Yeah, it's crazy," Jimmi said trying not to egg him on. "It's amazing," Dick Rob went on, "you don't look pregnant at all!" The chance I'd passed up at the last dealership presented itself again and this time, I took it, "I'm not," I smiled. Rob's shit-eating grin straightened across his face and his dumbass remarks were silenced, "I...ah...you...but...Aren't you having triplets?" I kept the fun going, "Yes," I said, "but I'm not pregnant. He knocked up a woman in Minnesota and I've agreed to take the babies on as my own." Rob's face turned white and, while I was thoroughly enjoying myself, I decided to put him out of his misery and tell him the truth. "Wow! You scared me for a minute there!" he laughed. Nerd Boy returned with a brochure and asked if we'd like to make a deal tonight. We declined and he promised to call in a few days to see if we'd changed our minds. Oh, goody! And, finally, we were allowed to leave. "That was a nice car," I said to Jimmi as we drove home. And then a thought popped into his head, "Why don't you go see Lelica about an Escalade?" He was referring to one of our friends whose family owns a Cadillac dealership, among others. I quickly sent her a message on Facebook, "Tell me about the Escalade." Within minutes we had a plan to meet at her dealership the next afternoon.

It was a beautiful day for a drive as we traveled just a few miles to Lelica's dealership the following day. She greeted us in the showroom and introduced us to her husband, Jay, and we all went outside to look at the star of the day, the Escalade. It was very similar to The Navigator in most ways, but it seemed a bit more luxurious. Within minutes, the keys were in my hand and I was adjusting mirrors and seats. "Can we take it back to our house to see if it fits in the garage?" I asked, half seriously. "Sure," Lelica said. "Take it wherever you want, just be back before we close!" Since we live very close, and having a car that fits in our garage is actually a real concern, I headed in the direction of home. "For such a big car, it's really easy to drive," I told Jimmi as I moved from the main road to the backroads, into our development, and finally pulled into our driveway. "Can you get out and direct me?" I asked Jimmi. I normally don't have a problem getting into my garage, but this tank dwarfed my Lexus and I didn't want anything to happen to it. You break it you buy it! echoed through my head as I followed Jimmi's hand signals and moved slowly into the spot. "Wait!" I stopped right before the side mirrors reached the door and quickly looked around and finally found the button to retract them. That was close. Little by little, inch by inch, I pulled the Escalade into my garage. When Jimmi held up his hand signaling me to stop, I turned off the engine and got out of the car. It fit! Yes, we'd probably need to take the shelving on the front wall of the garage down, but that's easy enough. The important thing is that the car we might need to buy to fit our family of seven, plus all of our stuff, fit in our garage! When we were done admiring how the giant, white beast looked at our house, we headed back to the dealership to report the news to Lelica and Jay. This time, we actually wanted to sit down and talk about trade-ins and order time and numbers, just to get an idea. Since they're friends and they know our situation, there was absolutely no pressure and we could relax while discussing all the options. Jimmi and I left the dealership feeling like another choice could be crossed off our growing list of baby needs.

Strollers, car seats, a new car...these things don't even scratch the surface of all the stuff we're gonna need to buy, steal, borrow or inherit in the next few months! But I'm gonna stop thinking about that now and concentrate on the next few days. I'm going to Minnesota tomorrow! Lyndsay's next ultrasound is scheduled for Friday, just a few days shy of the 9-week mark. I can't wait to see our little munchkins again! Maybe we'll have some answers about the twins and their sacs and placentas. Don't forget, we're hoping for separate placentas and separate amniotic sacs so we can breathe a tiny bit easier knowing that a small amount of risk would be avoided in these cases. But, if they're sharing either or both, we'll have to take it day by day and hope for the best. Come to think of it, that's been a running theme in my life for the last two years or so. Maybe I should finally learn to live by that rule!

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.