baby B (appt. part I)

At 10 weeks, I lost baby B. I only knew for 2 weeks that there even was a baby B. I had actually prayed for twins (I know, who does that), but I have always loved the idea of having twins, so I was certain that it was meant to be. Sort of a 'you asked for it!' from God that I was happy to take on. So when I found out that she died at 10 weeks, I cried. I felt a loss. I felt sad for her twin sister for what could have been. I went for several ultrasounds after that and every time, I asked if they heard a heartbeat on baby B. Rationally, I knew that it wouldn’t just somehow appear, and yet part of me still held out hope that maybe, just maybe, the ultrasound technician had missed it.

Since then, I have tried to focus on baby A, baby Summer. And yet, in every ultrasound I see baby B and part of me is saddened by it. Now that we know that Summer is a girl, baby B has become Summer’s twin sister. We haven’t named her (which apparently many parents in this situation do), but just knowing that she is Summer’s twin sister has changed something about the situation.

The tables have turned now, and it’s hard to reconcile the right emotions to go along with that change. Baby B, the same baby that I cried over, the same baby that is (was?) Summer’s sister, is now described as a parasite. As an ‘acardiac twin’ that is endangering Summer’s life. When I read about TRAP sequence and read about acardiac twins and how they harm the ‘pump twin’, the rational part of me prays for Summer – that she would be strong, that baby B would stop growing, that God would produce a miracle. My rational side makes me devour the information that is on the internet (to the point where Paul had to take the computer away) and learn everything there is to know about TRAP sequence. I created a list of questions - which could more accurately be considered a list of fears that I needed the doctor to alleviate. My rational side wanted answers, wanted statistics, wanted to know how to protect Summer from the acardiac twin. (by the way, acardiac means ‘no heart.’)

I walked into the ultrasound today with my list of questions in hand, a stomach full of butterflies, and holding my breath until I heard Summer’s heartbeat. Once I heard that proof of life, and saw that she continues to grow, my eyes shifted to baby B. My list of questions faded away. My butterflies were replaced with…silence. With a silence of what could have been versus what was.

As I watched baby B, which looks like nothing more than a conglomeration of body parts, I began to struggle with how I felt about her. No longer am I hoping for a heartbeat. And yet, I can’t quite view her as a parasite. My rational side knows that this being that started out as a life is now really just a mass of tissues that is connected to a blood supply – that’s the only reason it’s growing. Like a tumor. And yet, just a few weeks ago she was my baby that I cried over losing. And last week, upon learning the gender, she became Summer’s twin sister. And now I am supposed to see her as a parasite? How do you reconcile those emotions? How do you feel loss and sadness, fear and anxiety at the same time – about the same thing? Is she my baby that died or is she a threat to my yet-to-be-born baby? Can she be both?

As it turns out, my rational side didn’t stand a chance against my human side - the side that still sees baby B as just that. My baby. Not as a parasite, not as a leach. Yes, she is threatening the very life of Baby Summer but not on purpose. Not with malicious intent. The doctors can call her a parasite. A mass of cells that will continue to grow until the blood supply disappears (at delivery). But to me, she is baby B. A baby that Summer is risking her own life for by pumping her heart for both of them. Will we name her? Maybe. Not right now. Right now, she will be our baby B.