Nearly four years have passed, yet the memory remains vivid. I found myself in a dimly lit room, reclining as the technician squeezed warm gel onto my abdomen. The sensation made me cringe; I’ve always despised that feeling. Leaning closer, I whispered, “Do you have any of that stuff that’s not warmed up?”
“What? Most people prefer it warm,” she replied, puzzled.
“Not me! It feels so uncomfortable.”
“Wow, I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”
“Yeah, it’s a recurring theme.”
“Alright, let’s get started.”
As the technician moved the plastic wand over my belly, sound waves coursed through me, capturing images on the monitor. She took measurements, making thoughtful noises that piqued my curiosity.
“What’s wrong?” I inquired, genuinely intrigued.
“Is this your first sonogram?”
“No, I’ve had several with my first child,” I replied, blissfully unaware of the underlying concern in her voice.
“No, I mean, is this your first one with this pregnancy? Do you know anything yet?”
“Oh, yes, it’s the first. We just know I’m pregnant, right? Haha.” My ignorance was glaring.
“Right. So, what do you see here?”
“There’s the baby! That’s the head, the arm, and the legs,” I pointed out, while my husband squinted to catch a glimpse of our little one.
“Okay,” the technician said as she shifted the wand to another area of my belly. “And what do you see now?”
“The baby turned over?” I guessed, noting the change in profile.
“Nooooo.”
[Long pause, an almost palpable silence.]
“Two babies.”
“WHAT?” I exclaimed, suddenly sitting upright, wide-eyed, staring at the technician in disbelief.
“I’m just the messenger,” she replied, raising her hands slightly in defense.
“WHAT?” I repeated, as if the words hadn’t registered yet.
“Two babies.”
“WHAT?” I couldn’t help but repeat the question. “HOW? WHAT?”
“Well, let’s see…” She gently pushed me back down and started pointing out various details—two umbilical cords, two placentas, two amniotic sacs, and then, unmistakably, two heads, four arms, and four legs.
Shock coursed through me, freezing my body as fear took hold of my mind. Thoughts whirled like a carnival ride. We only wanted to give our daughter a sibling—just one! Not two! Three children seemed overwhelming, an odd number that would always leave one out at the table. I grew up with two sisters, and now my family would be five? “Party of Five” was a show I watched as a teenager, but the parents died in it! Our home has three bedrooms—way too small for twins! Twins! I was going to have to manage two screaming infants at once! I barely managed one last time; how could I possibly handle two?
She explained that the twins were definitely fraternal. “Two eggs,” she noted.
“Two eggs,” I echoed, sensing a hint of blame. “So this is my fault?”
“What?” she replied, taken aback. “There’s no fault here. Just two babies.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. But how? There are no twins in my family or his.” I gestured at my husband, still silent behind my shoulder.
She glanced at the screen. “Let’s see, it says you are 35. As women age, their bodies tend to release more viable eggs.”
“Like rats off a sinking ship?” I quipped.
“Um, yeah, you could say that.”
“Great,” I muttered, slowly lying back down.
I somehow managed to finish the exam, enduring the measurements for the necessary tests for women over 35. Leaving the clinic, I called my sister, still in shock. “You’re never going to believe what just happened.”
Even four years later, I can scarcely believe it myself.
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Summary:
This personal account details the shocking moment a woman learns she is expecting twins during a routine sonogram. The unexpected diagnosis leads her to grapple with fears and logistics of raising two children at once, revealing her initial disbelief and the emotional turmoil that follows. Even years later, the memory remains a vivid reminder of the unexpected turns in parenthood.