Will and I went in for my appointment worrying about whether or not there was actually a membrane between them. The ultrasound was started, and of course the membrane was found within the first minute. I had been worrying for nothing. The ultrasound tech focused on Baby B and started measuring body parts and looking at organs. Everything looked fine. The heartbeat was 141 BPM. We told her we wanted to record the screen as she announced the gender. Then she announced that she was almost completely positive they were boys! We were so happy to hear that; both of us thought they were boys.
Then she started focusing on Baby A. Very quickly she took the wand off my belly, took of her gloves, and told us she would be right back with the doctor. She didn't answer me when I asked her if something was wrong. She left the two us in the room wondering what was wrong. I was freaking out on the inside, but trying to stay calm. She was gone for what seemed like an eternity, and returned with my doctor. She took my hand and told me it looked like Baby A no longer had a heartbeat. I started sobbing while that was indeed confirmed by the ultrasound tech, and I saw my lifeless baby on the screen. He was perfectly formed with his legs curled up. He was measured, and it was determined he had passed a week earlier. I was 16 weeks, 2 days pregnant at the appointment, and the baby had passed away at 15 weeks, 3 days.
I had no idea anything had happened. My body gave me no indication that one of my babies was no longer alive. The thought had never even crossed my mind. I was worried about several other things that can go wrong with having identical twins, but I honestly never thought I would lose one.
We were ushered into an empty exam room and left alone to cry for awhile. During that time, my doctor made an appointment for me with a maternal-fetal medicine (high risk) doctor down the street for an hour later. My doctor finally came into the room and told me they didn't know why it happened and that they may never know why it happened. She assured me several times it was not because of something I did. She was crying a little, too. She was reluctant to tell me the surviving twin would be fine, which is why she wanted me to see the other doctor. After pulling myself together as best as I could, we walked out of the room and the office without checking out or scheduling another appointment.
We had lunch in the hospital cafeteria and then went to the new doctor's office. I was doing a good job at that point of not crying. I had a lot of paperwork to fill out which distracted me. After a very long time waiting, we were finally called back. After a stop at the blood pressure machine (it was surprisingly normal), we were shown into an ultrasound room and waited for my new doctor to come in.
Just like before, she started the ultrasound thoroughly checking out the surviving twin. She confirmed that he was indeed a boy and that he looked perfect at the moment. She briefly looked at Baby A, and I noticed that the nurse in there with us kind of put her head between me and the screen so I couldn't see very well while he was on there. When she finished with the ultrasound, she took my hand and gave me pretty much the same speech my regular OB had given me about it not being my fault and that she didn't know the reason why it happened either, at least not yet. She cried a little bit, too. But then she got down to business to let us know what the next steps would be. I was to come back in three weeks so she could do an in-depth scan of his brain. When twins are sharing a placenta and one dies, it can briefly affect the amount of blood and oxygen going to the surviving twin. The further along in the pregnancy this happens, the greater the likelihood of there being lasting damage to the surviving twin, usually in the form of cerebral palsy. However, she said my loss happened at what was considered early in the pregnancy as I was only two weeks into the second trimester. She said that the fact that they were still small and would not have been sharing very much blood at all yet made the chances go down significantly that he would have any lasting problems. However, she also said she just couldn't be absolutely sure nothing happened since the event had already occurred. She said his brain looked fine, but it was still too small to really examine it. The doctor assured us that the vast majority of the time, the surviving twin in this situation goes to term and doesn't have any problems at all. At the next appointment, an echo will be done on his heart to see if it is having to work harder now than it should. She said he had a normal, four-chambered heart, though, and that was great.
Even though she said we may never know the cause of death, she wanted to do some blood tests to see if that would uncover a reason. She said the deceased baby's neck was thicker than usual, and then she said that it becomes thicker after they pass. However, it can be a marker for Down's Syndrome or the Trisomy's. Now, I really don't know much about them, and I've always declined the testing for them since it sounds like there are a lot of false positives. She also wanted to test my blood coagulation levels to see if a clot could have caused it. So after the ultrasound and speech were finished, I was taken into someone's office and the nurse came in to draw literally 20 vials of blood from me for all those tests. I had no option but to stare at the paperwork in front of me that said the reason for the tests was "Demise Fetus A." Somehow I managed not to cry, though. Will had left the room because blood makes him queasy, but it really doesn't bother me.
Finally, after making my next appointment for three long weeks later, we were able to leave and go home. I held it together long enough in the car to call my mom and tell her the news. Then I cried all the way home. A gracious friend had been watching Liam for us, and his 2.5-3 hour visit turned into more than 5 hours. Once at home, I just sat on the couch sobbing, stunned at how the day had gone. Liam was thankfully a good distraction, and has been for the past five days.
The past five days have been really tough. This is the first time I've dealt with this kind of loss. I cry easily and haven't wanted to be around anyone but Will and Liam. I don't want to talk about it out loud yet with anyone. I cry about the fact that I lost a child. I cry about the fact that there won't be two babies to hold and raise together. I was looking forward to having twins. I cry because I have to carry my deceased baby for the remainder of the pregnancy. I cry with worry that I will lose the surviving twin as well. I am very scared and paranoid about that right now, especially since I don't feel much movement yet. At 12 weeks, I felt both babies kicking me at the same time, and it was even strong enough for Will to feel them too. That's not typical at all for babies that small. I think now it was a miracle and a gift to get to feel both of them kicking so early. They WERE both alive and now one is gone. Our hearts are broken for sure. However, I think each day is a little easier than the one before and I cry a little less each day. I do think it's one of those things I won't completely get over, though. I will always know there should have been two. But I do know that life will still be fine in spite of this fact.
Wednesday night after we found out the news and Liam had gone to bed, Will and I were both grieving the loss of our son. We had talked about names before that day, and decided on the names Collin and Gibson if we were having boys. In my mind, Collin was Baby A, and Gibson was Baby B. So that night we named our angel baby Collin. We had not decided on middle names, but Will wanted to give him the middle name Noel (pronounced Nole), so we did. Collin Noel. We named our living son Gibson. Later on we decided to give him the middle name Noel as well, since it was the only thing we could give them that they could share. Gibson Noel. Since then, we refer to them by their names and talk about Collin a lot. Liam has learned both of their names, and tells both of them good night and good morning every day. When we ask him what are his brother's names, he replies, "Cah-yen and Gif-son." When I ask him where Collin is now, he replies, "Heavent." I think it's precious and I love hearing him say both of their names. I think he will be an amazing big brother, and I sincerely hope and pray he gets the chance to be one to Gibson.
I think it will always feel like someone is missing from our lives, but I know we won't ever pretend that Collin never existed. We will talk about him and tell Gibson about him. I hope that somehow Gibson has a connection to his brother. I don't know if that's possible at all, but I do want Collin to be a presence in our lives somehow.
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| Both babies at 9 weeks |
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| Collin at 9 weeks |
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| Gibson at 16 weeks and proof he's a boy. |
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