I’m A Liar

I lied to a friend today.  She sent an email to let us know that there may be something wrong with her baby but that the doctors were going to runs more tests and she would keep us posted.  I sent her an email back telling her that everything would be okay, that I was sure it was nothing but that I would think good thoughts anyway.

I lied.

I said all the generic things you are supposed to say to a mom who is clearly terrified that there is something wrong with her unborn baby.  I lied to her like all of the people who lied to me when I sent the email that the twins were in trouble and we were leaving for Philly that morning.  I lied because I know that right now she is so scared that she can’t form a complete sentence, that every thought in her head is about that baby, because right now, she would give her own life to make sure that baby was safe and healthy.  Oh believe me, I know.

So I lied.

In my heart, I don’t think I believe that anything will ever be okay every again.  I am so disillusioned with what modern medicine can do for a baby in utereo that I still wonder how in the world healthy babies are born.  In my world, a healthy baby is an exception not a norm.  Because of my experiences, I am actually shocked when a baby is born alive and breathing.   I am still very angry that bitch, Modern Medicine, wouldn’t save my boys.

So I lied to my friend.

But I didn’t do it out of meanness.  I can tell you that those “lies” that people told me made me feel better.  I know that they had no way of knowing what would or wouldn’t happen, if the babies would be okay or not but the words of kindness and hope, those helped me.  My friend knows that I am no doctor, that I would have no idea whether what the doctor saw on the scan was bad or nothing to be concerned about but still, I want to comfort her.  I want to give her hope just like she and so many others gave me months ago.

And guess what?  I will continue to lie to her because hope, well that’s all I have right now.

My Scar

Well, I actually have lots of scars, both physical (I’m really clumsy) and emotional (I was a mess BEFORE I lost the boys).  The one that is particularly upsetting to me is the one on my belly, just below and to the left of my belly button.  Unless you were looking for it, you probably wouldn’t know it was there.  But I do.  I had big plans for this scar.  I was going to show this scar to Baby B and explain to him why his brother wasn’t here with us and why Mommy had to have a surgery to save him but lost his brother and how much I loved both of them.  But I don’t get to do that. 

See, at 17 weeks my husband I went to our ultrasound giddy with the thought of finding out if they were boys or girls.  I believed at least one of them was a girl but had recently had a dream about two boys.  My hubby was adamant they were both boys.  So there we were sitting through a marathon ultrasound session when the technician said “looks like they are two boys!”  Two little boys who would DESTROY my house, bring home frogs and snakes, dig worms and leave muddy foot prints on my kitchen floors.  We were thrilled.  Then the technician said that she would be right back.  A few moments later, the doctor came in and told us that he was concerned about something called “twin to twin transfusion syndrome.”  (Here is some information on this http://www.chop.edu/consumer/jsp/division/generic.jsp?id=81149).  The short version is that Baby A was significant smaller than Baby B and was in trouble.  I had known he was a boy for 5 minutes and already he was in trouble.  I thought, “typical little boy, he is going to make this tough on Mommy already.”  I had no idea.

Fast forward to Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia where hubby and I had raced because the folks at UNC told us it was urgent that we get to someone who specialized in this.  You know, that quiet, compellingly urgent voice that doctors use to convey the gravity of the situation to you without completely freaking you out?  Yeah, we got that voice.

So in Philly, Doctor Bebbington is THE guy when it comes to this stuff so when he sat down with a grim look on his face, I knew I would not be leaving Philly with two babies.  I knew right then before he said anything that something was very wrong.  Baby A had something called Intra-Uterine Growth Deficiency.  He was not connected to the placenta properly which was actually the source of his stunted growth.  He should have been the size of his brother, a 17 week old fetus, but instead, he was only the size of a 15 week old fetus.  As a result, he had severe neurological and cardiac damage.  He would not live past 26 weeks.  If he lived that long and both babies were born prematurely, it was unlikely he would live more than a few hours and Baby B would be at a severe disadvantage in terms of lung and brain development.  To make matters worse, (yeah, uh-huh, right because you thought it couldn’t get worse), because of the type of twins they were, if Baby A died before being born, Baby B would bleed to death.

We had no choice but to have a surgery to save the life of Baby B.  A surgery which would, in turn, end the life of Baby A.

Well, as you know, I had the surgery.  I lost Baby A.  My sweet little boy that I had such dreams for.  My gentle Baby Boy.  I try and remember that it was the best chance we had to save Baby B but instead I think about my one scar and my Baby Boys who were supposed to be due in 1 week.  I hope one day that this scar will turn into a badge of how much I love my boys and how hard my husband and I fought for them.  I hope someday I will be able to look at it and know that it has made me a stronger person. 

For now, today, I’m just not feeling all that strong.