My Failed Pregnancy, Trying Again, and MoDi Twins
Twelve weeks pregnant with twins.
October 2019: Our First Pregnancy, Failed.
Almost exactly a year ago from today, I became pregnant for the first time. I remember the day distinctly—the bright two lines, sharing the news with my closest people, and coming home to Michael and slow-dancing in our living room. It felt surreal, knowing I would become a mother and we would have our family.
The excitement and joy quickly turned into sadness, disappointment, grief, and pain when I went to the bathroom one day and my toilet paper was full of blood. Spotting is normal during early pregnancy I read through a frantic Google search. I clung to that hope—that this was normal—and tried to convince myself it would be okay. But the bleeding persisted more heavily, and I started to cramp.
I remember taking pictures of the toilet bowl, filled with blood, asking the medical professionals I know personally if this was “normal.” I remember my mother-in-law, a nurse, and her tone of voice when she said “oh, this doesn't look good.” I think we both knew right away my baby wasn’t going to survive and I was undergoing a miscarriage.
A Suspected Ectopic Pregnancy
However, my miscarriage ended up being a bit more complicated than the ordinary miscarriage. Typically, when a woman has a miscarriage, her HCG levels—i.e., the pregnancy hormone—declines rapidly, as her body is ridding the baby from her body. In my case, though, my pregnancy hormone continued to rise, but at a slow, unhealthy rate (HCG levels should double every 48 hours, but mine would raise only a few points every blood draw). In essence, it seemed like my body wanted to hold onto the pregnancy, but the pregnancy was not healthy.
My miscarriage turned into a suspected ectopic pregnancy, which means the pregnancy is outside of the uterus and cannot survive. Usually, the pregnancy will be in the fallopian tube or an ovary. I did several ultrasounds, but no technician could find a sign of any embryo anywhere. My doctor, perplexed by all of this, asked me to do a uterine biopsy (not a fun or comfortable procedure), where she cut slivers of skin from my uterus to see if she could detect any pregnancy hormone. She found no pregnancy cells inside my uterus, giving her further belief the pregnancy was outside the uterus.
At this point, I was given the option to take methotrexate—a drug designed for cancer patients that kills off cancer cells—as a way to kill off my pregnancy cells, but I knew the side effects of the drug could lead to hair loss and extreme sickness. I decided to forego the methotrexate, to wait it out, and pray that my HCG levels would eventually drop naturally. Fortunately, in December, my HCG levels began to decline slightly but more consistently.
October to January: Daily Bleeding, the ER, and Blood Draws
From October to January, I bled heavily every day. I went to the ER three times for unbearable left side pain. Also, for those three months, I had to go into the hospital every 48-hours for blood draws to check my HCG levels. No exaggeration, I was in the hospital every other day for three months. I was instructed to go in until my HCG levels reached zero.
It was a long, drawn-out failed pregnancy that was draining on an emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual level. As badly as I wanted to be a mother, I strongly questioned whether I wanted to go through the process of trying again.
Trying Again
Over the next six months, I worked to reframe my narrative of my experience. As hellish as it felt at the time, I knew I could frame this in a way to make me stronger—to view it as a gift in disguise. Really, my failed pregnancy taught me a lot. For one, how common miscarriages are (about 1/4 pregnancies), and also, just how freaking strong women truly are! As I was losing my baby, I simultaneously worked full-time in a corporate office, waited in blood labs for hours every two days to get my forearm pricked, managed the most intense hormonal shifts of my life, and found the strength and courage to try it all over again.
I knew getting through this not only made me stronger, but also, would lead me to appreciate my future viable pregnancy on the greater level. In many ways, I became even more prepared for motherhood through this experience.
So six months later, we began trying again.
October 2020: Our Second Pregnancy, MoDi Twins.
Our pregnancy announcement photo.
It’s October 2020—almost one year exactly from when I experienced my miscarriage—and I just announced, publicly, that I am pregnant with identical twin boys.
Another day I’ll always remember distinctly: the day we had our sixth-week-ultrasound and the technician uttered “so…you’re having twins.” This particular technician had a monotone voice and dryish personality, and I thought she was kidding.
“Are you kidding?” I literally asked.
“No,” she said, “I am 100% certain you are having twins.”
Michael stood up and went closer to the screen to study the imagery for himself. We looked at each other, in shock. My first thoughts:
Oh my god, my body with two babies inside of it. How big will I get?
Oh my god, giving birth to two babies. How painful will that be?
Two high chairs, two car seats, two cribs. Two, two, two.
How do I give all my attention to two babies?
Will I ever have any alone time or independence ever again?
I envisioned having only one child.
“So you’ll have to go to the high-risk clinic for the rest of your ultrasounds,” the tech told us.
I asked her why, and I quickly learned that twin pregnancies are high-risk. Beyond having two lives to care for, there is greater room for complications when you have more placental tissue, which happens in all twin pregnancies. There is a greater likelihood of miscarriage. However, I’d soon realize that my type of twin pregnancy—mono-di twins—are even higher risk than the average twin pregnancy.
MoDi Twins: A Complicated Pregnancy
Two weeks later, I had my second ultrasound, and I learned that my twins are mono-di twins, which means my babies are identical and share the same placenta (i.e., the source of nourishment). In essence, one of my babies could “steal” nourishment from the other, causing Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome—a very serious complication in identical twin pregnancies.
Initially, all of this information was very overwhelming to me. I cried the next day (which I do sometimes when I’m overwhelmed). All my initial concerns were now paired with fears of having a high-risk pregnancy and losing my babies. After having a complicated miscarriage, I now have a complicated pregnancy. Part of me just wanted something streamlined, something simple, something with an ordinary process and expected outcome.
I won’t lie—for much of my first trimester, I experienced a lot of anxiety. I frantically researched Twin to Twin Transfusion, become overly concerned about my smallest symptoms, and felt very outside of myself as I felt sick, unmotivated, and too restless to perform my normal habits and activities. My vision of my pregnancy—and of our family—looked quite different. It took some time for me to come to terms with knowing that I cannot plan for anything, and that I need to trust this process even through the complications.
Twin A (above) and Twin B (below) at 13 weeks gestation.
Complications as Gifts
Just as I couldn’t plan for my failed pregnancy, I couldn't plan for having a high-risk pregnancy with identical twins. That’s the thing about life: it doesn’t care about our plans. Life happens to us. We have to roll with whatever comes our way. We can either resist the waves, or we can ride along them. Sometimes, being a type-A personality, the unknown pull of the universe scares me, but it has also proven to be my greatest guide and teacher.
Over the last month, I’ve reframed this entire experience to be more in alignment with love over fear. That’s not to say I never experience creep-up scares of Twin to Twin Transfusion, but when those thoughts do come up, I observe it, and I let it go. I cannot focus my energy on something that hasn’t happened yet, and ultimately, something I could never prevent from happening to begin with. I must ride this wave, not resist it.
Beyond releasing my fear, I've come to deeply cherish our twins as gifts. Only 1 in 250 pregnancies are twins, and of that, only 1/3 are identical like ours (about a 1/1,000 chance). Michael and I have talked about how we feel “chosen” to be identical twin parents. That it doesn’t just happen to anyone, and that it is a great miracle that we are fortunate enough to parent twins together.
Also—how freaking cool is it that our babes will be built-in-best friends? I love the idea of them going to school together, supporting one another, growing and sharing with one another. The more I learn about the twin bond, the more fascinated I become by it all. Even in the womb, the babies interact with one another! It’s truly amazing.
Struggles to More Strength
I know some people cringe at the saying everything happens for a reason, but I can't help but feel that way as I go throughout my life. The ups and down alike have led me to this very moment, and despite even the worst pains, I’ve survived. Actually, the most painful matters have led me to find greater growth and beauty.
I know I can only protect what is in my power, and whatever isn’t, the universal guidance will protect me. I can only control what food and drink I consume, how I move my body, how I breathe and meditate, how I frame my thoughts, but the rest is beyond my control. As much as I like to think I play the ultimate master over my pregnancy, I know there’s a lot more at work here.
As women, we care and we worry. A lot. It is in our feminine nature. Trust that, no matter where you are—whether you’re thinking about trying, if you’ve struggled to get pregnant, or if you’re pregnant right now—this moment is sacred. This moment is guiding you to where you are supposed to go. During the most trying times, I know this outlook is easier to state than believe. The truth is though, we aren’t given anything we cannot handle. You can handle anything. Not only can you handle anything, but but you can grow through anything. Yes, anything.