Fast forward one week. I woke up early, as I had for several mornings in a row. This was very uncharacteristic of me, as I usually work until midnight, don’t get to bed until 2am, and sleep around 9 hours. I putted around the house all morning. I was scheduled to work that evening at 5pm. Ryan worked at 2pm. He wouldn’t wake up until he had to get ready for work. I went about my usual pre-work rituals of eating, cleaning, and relaxing. At about 12:30, I had the usual urge to pee, so I went upstairs to the bathroom.
I sat down and saw red blood in my underwear. My heart stopped. Could I be miscarrying? This can’t be happening. Ryan and I had just accepted the fact a baby was coming. We had decided to wait to tell everyone until Christmas. And now I was losing the baby? This can’t be. I was panicking. I thought my hands shook at the sight of a positive pregnancy test. My whole body was shaking now. I was tearing up.
I ran to our room and woke Ryan up. I tried to stay calm. I told him I had some blood in my underwear and that I thought I was miscarrying. He was instantly concerned. I knew I should probably be checked out at the emergency room. I had worked the front desk there for a few years. Lots of women believing they were miscarrying would come in teary eyed and be seen by a doctor. Since I worked the front desk, I didn’t know exactly what went on when the upset women went into the emergency room for miscarriage. I’m sure they had lab work, maybe an ultrasound. But what else did they do? I had heard of a D&C procedure (dilation and curettage) where they remove the deceased embryo from the woman’s body if it doesn’t pass on its own, as to not cause her health problems. I didn’t know much about the goings on in the ER, but I thought I’d better be seen.
Ryan had to go to work. He wanted to be with me and know I was okay, but I acted strong for him and said I could go by myself. I knew I couldn’t. I drove towards the hospital and called my sister, Aubrey, who lived in town.
My voice was shaky and weak. I asked if she would be able to accompany me to the emergency room if she wasn’t doing anything. She said she was available. I drove to my mom’s house to pick her up. I got out of the car and she met me outside. She was smiling. With a grin on her face, she said, “You’re pregnant!” I don’t quite remember my response, but it was something to the effect of “I was, but I’m miscarrying.” She was happier than I thought was necessary, considering that I was losing the baby. But I guess she was just happy at the possibility that she could have been an aunt. We drove to the ER.
I checked in and was triaged. Since it had only been about 5 years since I’d worked there, there were quite a few familiar faces. They were happy to see me, but knew by my red, puffy eyes that something was wrong. After what seemed like the longest ten minute wait of my life, I was taken to an examination room. My nurse was an old friend, but the doctor was new to me. He seemed nice. I was a modest girl and embarrassed that a man other than my husband was going to be looking and prodding ‘down there.’
The doctor reassured me that most miscarriages include severe cramping, heavy bleeding, and sometimes passing clots of blood. In retrospect, I had only been spotting a small amount. The doctor said there was no real way to know if I was actually miscarrying today. There would have to be follow up blood work done to see if my hormone levels were declining. In that case, it would be easier to tell if I were in fact miscarrying. That was almost worse news: I wouldn’t know for sure for a few days.
The doctor offered that, depending on how far along I was, an ultrasound might be able to confirm a heartbeat or not. I was relieved that there was an alternative to a ‘wait and see’ approach.
My sister came with me into the ultrasound room. They asked if my bladder was full. “I feel like I have to pee.” It was probably the typical pregnant woman answer. The tech seemed new. Not quick with her movements or familiar with her equipment. I was too scared by the whole situation to let that bother me too much.
I immediately saw a flurry of black and gray and white blobs on the television screen in front of me. Who knows what it all meant. The tech was moving the probe, clicking her gizmos, taking her time. I saw two main black blobs, very close to eachother. I know that once the egg is fertilized, it splits. Maybe these two dots were just the egg splitting. I had no idea. After several agonizing minutes, she said “I’m kind of new, so I’m going to go ask the supervisor.” Whatever is needed to know for sure, I’m game.
The tech exited the room and just a few moments later, she came back with another tech. The male tech confidently walked over to the monitor and said, “I hate to tell you this, but you’re having twins!”
My first thoughts: Oh, TWO dots. Two. That’s two dots. Two dots equals two babies. Two babies. Twins. Two of everything. Double blessings. Twice as nice? Double Trouble? Am I really having twins? Two. That’s a lot of diapers, a lot of fingers and toes. Babies cost money. Two babies will cost more money. How can we afford it? Am I going to be a good mom with twins? How is Ryan going to be as a dad with two babies? How do you breastfeed two babies? Do I need two cribs to start off with? Will they be early? Will they be healthy enough? I hope they don’t need NICU time. I’m going to be very tired for the next few years. We’re going to have to make the 300 mile trip to the in-laws a lot more frequently now. Oh, how are we going to tell them? We said it would be two years before we have a baby. This is quite a leap away from our two year anniversary. Ryan’s mom will probably be excited, but his dad will be – I don’t even know. Oh no, MY dad. How am I going to tell him? He hasn’t even met Ryan yet! How are we going to deal with two babies? TWO!
I don’t really remember my sister’s reaction, but I was in awe. Of course, my mom was a twin. I figured one of us girls would have some twin grandbabies for her. I never thought it would be me, and I also never thought it would be on the “first try.”
So, they commenced measuring the two little black dots for dates. It was determined that I was only 4-5 weeks. There were dots with nothing inside them yet. Very early. Too early to tell much, really. In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t know much at this point.
I asked for a print out to show my husband. How am I going to TELL my husband? How do you tell your husband of only a few months that you’re fine and not miscarrying and its twins. I guess I could only show him the ultrasound picture. This is some week!
Some blood tests, some paperwork signed, some chatting with old ER buddies and flashing the twins first photo, and I was free to go.
I was scared. I was scared to tell Ryan. I was scared of all the many things that were coming with one baby, let alone two at the same time. I was thankful. I was so happy that it looked like things were okay. I was scared that we didn’t know that for sure. I drove my sister back home and swore her to secrecy. We were waiting until Christmas to tell everyone, so she had to keep her mouth shut or I’d kick her butt. And, thanks.
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