Today we had our second ultrasound and found not one, not two, but three heartbeats.
We only implanted two embryos and were told by our doctor that he had never had a case of an embryo splitting in his 30+ years in practice. Upon doing a little google-style research, the natural splitting of an embryo has a ONE PERCENT chance of happening.
I don’t win the lotto, raffles, or HGTV prizes. You know what I win? Three jury duties in one year and triplets.
Neither of us know whether to laugh or cry. We both got the immediate “Oh, shit” down pretty much on cue.
I am making light of this, but I am really in a quagmire. I have so many emotions that are conflicting and absolutely larger than life. Too big for this body that is already full from supporting four of us.
What a glorious working of genetics that BD and my genes have resulted in our creating identical twins. It’s amazing to think about. But three babies in any frame – let alone my 5’1″ one – make for an officially high-risk situation. BD and I are pragmatists and, luckily, aren’t constrained by religious dogma when it comes to considering all of our options. But, even so, what a situation to be faced with – this was not even on the radar of possibility.
I’m so afraid. I’m afraid of getting attached to these babies. I’m afraid of making such a big decision as to what to do with their futures. I’m afraid of not making the right decision.
We have several weeks – at least five or six – to go until we can make any decisions or have much more information. A lot can happen in five or six weeks. Heck, we went from one embryo to three in one week. Who knows where we’ll be in six weeks.
I would love to find some Zen in the midst of all of this.