“What’s the matter?” he asked, clearly a little annoyed to be disrupted. Neither of us enjoyed an interruption when we were in our flow-state.
“Something’s wrong.”
Nick’s countenance immediately changed, and he downed his tools and hurried to me.
First the emergency room, and then the sonographer’s office, where I had an internal scan. Nick held my hand as our sonographer inserted the wand, knowing how uncomfortable the necessary invasion made me feel. But itwas painless, and at last she was able to get a look inside my womb.
“Just a little breakthrough bleeding,” she said, after taking the time to get a thorough look and take the proper measurements. “The environment looks sound.”
Relieved, Nick smiled down at me, kissing my knuckles. I breathed a little easier.
The sonographer measured the baby’s proportions, her frown increasing as she made her way around the baby’s anatomy.
“Don’t worry, the baby’s healthy, it’s just – wait here a moment.” She removed the wand, cleaned it, and got up from her rolling seat. “I’m going to fetch the consultant.”
We held our breath until she returned with the doctor. This wasn’t how I imagined my first scan to go, especially seeing as I wasn’t quite twelve weeks yet. A short woman with tanned skin and a stern expression entered the room, introducing herself before she took over at the sonographer’s station. Once again the wand was inserted, and she applied pressure as she moved it around, attempting to get the best view. These blurred images and small white lines were our first introduction to our beautiful baby.
The consultant guided the sonographer around the images, expanding and retracting them, speaking in hushed tones.
“What’s going on?” asked Nick, sounding irritated and equally fearful. “Is something wrong?”
“Ah, no, no, the baby is healthy,” said the doctor, still sounding unsure. “It looks like there is in fact two of them.”
I looked at Nick, my eyes wide with amazement.
“Twins?” I asked, bewildered. “We’re having twins?”
“One moment, please,” said the consultant, quite abruptly.
Nick was sweating, squeezing my hand tight. We waited another few agonising minutes. The sonographer and consultant seemed to be in their own world, quite fascinated with the screen, as they took measurement after measurement.
Finally, they had something to tell us. The consultant turned the monitor so we could see the screen more clearly.
What looked like the outlines of two little prawns with bulbous heads came into view. One was smaller than the other by some margin. They were close, snug, suspended together inside their cosy little nest.
“I’m going to take some pictures,” said the consultant, “and then we’ll reconvene in my office.”
I shook as I stuffed wads of tissue paper between my legs, attempting to mop up the gel they’d used to insert the wand. The urge to cry came over me, but I swallowed it back, determined that nothing would ruin this. I dressed quickly and held Nick’s hand tight as we followed the sonographer and the consultant to the office on the ward, feeling as though we were in an eerie dream-state. Nothing seemed real.
But we had been given our first glimpse of our beautiful babies. Our beautifultwins.
“Everything’s going to be all right, darling,” said Nick in a hushed voice, as if he was scared to say it any louder and jinx it. He looked as worried as I felt, his skin pale and damp at the temples.
“What if it isn’t,” I said out loud, despite myself. Tearsprickled my eyes. “Oh god, what if it isn’t?”
“Then we’ll face it together,” said Nick, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve got you, my love.”
We sat down at the consultant’s desk and waited while she pulled up the images on the projector screen. We could see the images in detail, now. I glanced uneasily at Nick as we noticed the same thing, waiting fearfully for what we were seeing to be explained to us.
“They appear to be conjoined,” said the consultant, who began guiding us through the stills.
“Fortunately they are fused below their vital organs, which is conducive to life and should offer no extreme or life-threatening complications. We will need to monitor you on a weekly basis until they’re viable for caesarean section. It’s the safest mode of delivery for twins in any case, let alone conjoined twins.”
It was all too much information to take in. It wasn’t the birth I had been planning and dreaming of when I’d thought I was pregnant with a single baby, but that didn’t matter now. All I cared about was keeping the twins safe and alive.
“Have...have you ever seen this before?” I asked.
“Not in my own practice, no,” said the consultant. “It’ll be a multi-disciplinary effort, and I’ll need to involve a few specialists. We’ll need to test for any other congenital defects. As long as those tests come back clear, with the correct planning and monitoring, I’m confident of a positive outcome for yourself and both of the babies.”
