We have a membrane!
I’m sorry to give away the ending of the story, but it’s such a relief.
We visited the specialist at Georgetown today. Things seemed bleak when he looked at the “monoamniotic/monochorionic” diagnosis and said: “I’m assuming you’re going to terminate one of them.”
“Absolutely not,” we both said in unison.
He nodded grimly.
Then he ran the sonogram machine and almost instantly pointed something out to us: “Ah, look — you do have a membrane!”
Monochorionic, but not monoamniotic. Bullet dodged.
Afterwards, it was a celebration — he let us look at our babies in blurry, ghostly sonogram black and white, and it was like watching fish swimming around a fishbowl. They looked like those cartoon fishpeople from the old Sea Monkey packaging — insanely cheerful. “Twin B” was a livewire, seeming to ram her/himself into the membrane as if to say: “Look Mommy and Daddy, WE HAVE A MEMBRANE! W00t!”
And then the baby proceeded to do something that looked like foetal breakdancing, while the laconic sybling watched passively on the other side of the membrane, amused by the other’s insane antics.
Based on the doctor’s calculations, one twin is two days older than the other. If they were conceived on day two of our trip to London as we suspect, then they split and became two around the time we visited Stonehenge, Bath and Salisbury.
Yes, I love these twins. It overwhelms me. To paraphrase Kim Deal: “Big, big love.” Gigantic love.
w00t!
Raising Twins | jeff | 25 January 2005 |
