A baby girl

The tears I first cried were for the loss of a twin, of one of the 2 babies, in my tummy. I only knew there were 2 babies for a few weeks but it was enough to cry over the loss of one of them.

The 2nd tears I cried took place a month later and were tears of joy at seeing baby A on the ultrasound kicking and moving like crazy. My tiny dancer.

Those were short lived tears, as just a few minutes later the Dr. came in and said that baby b, the twin that had not survived, was still growing. It was supposed to breakdown and get reabsorbed by my body but unfortunately, it didn't. And it only meant one thing - that it was connected to Baby A and I was a high risk pregnancy.

A 3 hour appt, later, Paul and I left with more questions than when we walked in. Part of those 3 hours were spent waiting, another part in ultrasounds with the technician and then the Dr, and then a 3rd part in a conference room trying to make sense of what we were being told. But the words just kept coming in short phrases, like echoes in a tunnel. You have to go to Cincinnati for surgery. Baby A can get sick. Early delivery - 24 weeks. Heart failure. Pump twin. Acardiac twin. A spine, skull...maybe a limb. At some point, I stopped asking questions and Paul took over. Then we were ushered out to the office to schedule weekly ultrasound appts in order to monitor the size of baby b's growth and the heart of baby a.

When we left, the tears had stopped. They had coagulated into a clump at the top of my throat - not able to to be swallowed away, refusing to released.

In the midst of the bad news, we found out that baby a is a girl. A sweet, precious, baby girl. This piece of information was drowned out by everything else, but not before Paul said to me, "Wow, it would have been twin girls." Yes, it would have been.