Two years ago, I encountered a profound surprise that sent my emotions into a whirlwind. I discovered I was pregnant again, less than a year after welcoming our daughter, Lily. We had only just begun to adjust to the idea of having two young children when my obstetrician, during an early July appointment, suggested I might be further along than expected. To confirm this, she scheduled an ultrasound for the following day.
At the time, my partner, Jake, was away on a work trip. When I called to inform him about the early ultrasound, he offered to cut his trip short. However, after discussing it, we agreed that it was unnecessary. My friend was coming to care for Lily, and this was merely a routine dating ultrasound. Although Jake could rearrange his meetings, I encouraged him to stay, so I went alone.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” the ultrasound technician asked as I lay on the table, feeling vulnerable.
“Why? Is there something wrong?” My heart sank. “Is there no heartbeat?”
She gestured to the screen, and I was stunned to see two heartbeats, two sacs—two babies. After a whirlwind of information about carrying fraternal twins, including extra literature and plans for my “high-risk” status, I hurriedly texted Jake, urging him to call me right away.
His response was immediate: “I will. Is everything okay?”
“You tell me…”
Later, as I sat with my best friend and our collective children, I expressed my anxiety. Just as she had reassured me that managing two under two would be feasible, now we were facing the reality of having three under two—a situation that felt daunting for both of us.
Jake and I continued to process this unexpected news that evening. Our minds raced with the necessities: car seats, cribs, high chairs—everything would need to double. Would this change affect Lily? How would we cope?
In the following days, we shared the news with our families and close friends. Their excitement and offers of assistance began to help us adjust to the idea. It still felt surreal and overwhelming, yet we started to formulate a plan.
However, the day before Lily’s first birthday, I awoke to bleeding. Although I had been informed that bleeding is common in multiple pregnancies, the midwife insisted I come in immediately for a check. Jake was home, but Lily was sleeping; we quickly decided it would be best for me to go alone.
Once again, I found myself alone with the technician and the ultrasound probe. After the appointment, I drove home feeling a profound sense of loss. I was now only carrying one baby.
The medical professionals were kind, explaining that such occurrences are not uncommon in twin pregnancies. Many begin with two but don’t end that way. They reassured me that there was no reason I couldn’t carry Baby A to term. But how does one process such a loss?
I felt a deep sadness for the twin I had lost while simultaneously being grateful for the life still growing inside me. This conflict is something I continue to reflect on. I regard my daughter, Emma, as a twin—one who simply did not have her sibling with her. I often wonder how different she might be if she had a playmate her age or if having a twin would have influenced her temperament.
The memories of the pregnancy intertwine with thoughts of Emma’s twin. Each ultrasound measured Baby B until there was nothing left.
After my first miscarriage, I felt a definitive end. But losing Baby B left me with a lingering connection; that baby remained part of my pregnancy experience and of Emma’s existence.
Finding support for my unique situation was challenging. I knew individuals who had experienced twin losses but not in the same context. When I shared my experience in an online community, one member reached out to me. Her twin pregnancy had also ended at the close of the first trimester. We have since kept in touch; she later welcomed twins who share a birthday with their older sister. I asked her if having twins helped her heal from her earlier loss, and she replied that the feelings of twin loss persist even after experiencing a new pregnancy.
When Emma is older, we plan to share the story of her beginnings. It’s an essential aspect of who she is—a missing piece of her identity.
We are delighted with our family of four and feel complete. We are not actively seeking to expand our family, despite having once envisioned a life with five of us.
Yet, two years later, the memory of that loss remains with me. I suspect it always will.
For those navigating similar experiences, excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination can be found at Johns Hopkins Medicine. Additionally, our other blog post discusses important aspects of this journey, and you can explore more at Intracervical Insemination. For those considering home insemination, Cryobaby offers an authoritative perspective on the topic.
Summary
The emotional journey of experiencing the loss of a twin during pregnancy can be complex and multifaceted. The author reflects on their personal experience of discovering they were expecting twins, only to lose one early in the pregnancy. The narrative explores feelings of grief, the impact on the surviving child, and the ongoing connection to the lost twin, emphasizing the importance of support and resources for those facing similar situations.