I am terrified to carry, birth, breastfeed and parent twins. So much so that when faced with transferring one or two embryos during IVF2, we chose one. Having been pregnant so many times already, we felt good about our chances and our doctor agreed (“more people should be scared!” he said). That single embryo grew and grew and grew and became Arlo.
I am three years older now and while I dab desperation behind ears and elbows on the daily, I am still terrified of multiples. Along with whatever was going on then however, I am running out of eggs. And not good eggs – old, crusty, can’t-get-out-bed eggs. The embryos we create now are far less likely to survive. This time, three years and four more IVFs later, my doctor will advise us to transfer them all back in. All of them. Twins. Trips. Quads.
What will we do?
Whatever we do we will say we rolled the dice and won. We rolled the dice and won! Say it with me. And like any parent, terror will shift to action and action to exhilaration.