It is officially the longest morning of my life. I’m slightly nauseous as I wake but can’t decide if it’s from lack of sleep, anxiety about today, or morning sickness. I’m awake early which doesn’t help, but even the last hour from 9:15am until we leave for the clinic seems to take a lifetime. I can’t find enough to keep me occupied and spend a good deal of time swinging on one of the barstools in the kitchen telepathically sending messages to the clock to tick faster.
Eventually it’s time to leave. My hubby’s excited but I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been and on the verge of tears. We only live 5 minutes’ drive away from our clinic so before long we’re pulling into the carpark and heading up in the lift. It’s only a short wait before our doctor comes out to get us and with shaking legs I follow him into his office. He knows I’m nervous so doesn’t delay, “scan first, then we’ll talk” he says.
It’s still early days so it’s an internal ultrasound this time rather than the gel on the tummy number. One final date with dildocam (I hope). I lie there with my pants off waiting for the machine to start up and praying to the universe for a good result. Finally it’s time. The ultrasound wand goes in and my doctor exclaims “Well straight away I can tell you that there are two sacs.” I gulp, please let there be a heartbeat in at least one of them.
He has a closer look. “Yes, there’s the first heartbeat” he says, and I look at my tiny Bumble’s heart flickering away like a little moth on the screen. I’m trying hard not to cry. My baby is alive. It’s amazing, exciting, fear-inducing and surreal all at the same time. “Now let’s see if we can find the other one. It seems ‘the other one’ is a little trickier with the sac tucked right up in the uterus where it’s hard for the ultrasound wand to reach. A moment later he’s found it though and there’s little Bee’s heart fluttering away as well. We’re having twins.
My husband is supposed to be filming this but he’s so caught up in the moment that I have to frantically gesture to him to capture at least some of it on his phone. Our doctor takes a few screen shots, including one with both our babies in the frame, and then it’s done. Hubs and the doctor leave and I get dressed with shaking hands then head out to chat.
We get the usual warnings that it’s still early days, that things are riskier with twins, about vanishing twin syndrome. However our doctor does add that with such a young donor (21), and the good condition the embryos and sacs appear to be in, that our chances of carrying them right the way through to somewhere near a twins full-term (38 weeks) is good. Our chances of miscarriage have now theoretically dropped to 5-10% per embryo. My fingers are crossed.
I’m still in total shock. Our doctor is asking me questions about the medication I’m on and how many embryos we have left in the States and I’m struggling to answer. I feel as though I’m moving in slow motion. We collect information booklets from the nurse and then we’re off home to let the news sink in and start sharing the news with our family and close friends.
My mum squeals then bursts into tears, my hubby’s mum has more of a philosophical approach to it, my siblings are somewhat disbelieving and excited. I tell the friends that ask, sending them just two baby face emoticons in a text. Everyone is stoked and so are we, although we’re both still in daze of amazement. We have heartbeats. Plural.