Just us three

I was near the water’s edge once again, my favorite place to be. It didn’t matter which city or state I was in. As long as I could hear the waves crashing on shore, and see the water sliding on the sand towards me, and then recede to fold back into itself again, I felt at peace.

To my left, a man joyfully played with his golden retriever, tossing a ball into the water and letting the dog retrieve it. To my right, a little further from the ocean waves, a family was seated in beach chairs and gathered around a large bonfire. It made me ache for my own family, who lived three states away and didn’t yet know the news I had to share.

*****

I had begun my journey to pregnancy more than a year earlier. Sara and I had gone through months of therapy to arrive at a compromise. She would “allow me” to have a child if I would promise she could be a stay at home mom for the first several years of our child’s life. I had joyously agreed. Since she had already been unemployed for more than a year at the time, this gave her (in her mind) permission to continue her period of unemployment indefinitely.

I had been wanting to have a child for years. When we had first met, and for the entire five years we were friends before we started dating, she had told me that she wanted to be a mother one day also. Yet just three years into our friendship-turned-relationship, she’d turned the tables on me and told me she never wanted to have children. She liked our life the way it was and didn’t want to give up our freedom.

I was heartbroken. I continued to broach the subject time and time again, hoping that perhaps I could somehow prove to her that the decision would be a beautiful life we would share together. Time after time it led to conflict and eventually I stopped asking, trying to accept the fact that something I believed I was made for would never come true.

At some point though, I had issued her an ultimatum. I could still remember that conversation vividly. I had trembled reading the letter I had written her, knowing that I was risking the end of a relationship I had treasured for almost fourteen years. I told her, “I have loved you from the day I met you, but I have fallen in love with someone else. Me.” She had looked at me with anger and contempt, rolling her eyes. “I have dreamed of being a mother my whole life, Sara. I love myself enough now to realize that trying is more important to me than saving our relationship if it means I will have regrets later.”

Within a week, she had told me reluctantly and angrily that she was in, because I had “forced her” into it. We agreed to go to couples counseling to repair our relationship and prepare for the birth of a child. For the first few weeks of meeting with Doreen, Sara had tried to convince me that it was a bad idea. But I was solid in my decision despite her anger, fears, frustrations, and doubt. Those conversations, which felt akin to negotiations, changed our relationship irrevocably. I could see this more clearly now.

Our therapist had offered a suggestion that Sara write up a contract for me to sign in which she could state the things she needed to feel more secure moving forward. It included the stipulation that she could be a stay at home mom “sparing us the cost of daycare and a stranger caring for our child,” that the baby would have her last name instead of mine to give her a “sense of security” that the baby was as much hers as mine, despite not being the one to give birth, and a promise that she could select the donor we would use for sperm so that the child would possess physical and personality traits similar to her. And lastly, she had insisted that I take her on a trip to Hawaii before the birth so that we could enjoy “one last vacation meant purely for our pleasure.” It had been a couple of years since we’d traveled anywhere since she’d lost her job.

Looking back, I could see the selfishness and manipulation in each of her demands, but at the time I was just grateful that we had reached a point of compromise and could begin to pursue our fertility journey. Within a week of signing her contract, I had booked our trip to Maui and we were reviewing donors on the sperm bank’s website. I didn’t care what it cost in terms of money or time; all I wanted was to hear the words, “Congratulations. You’re having a baby.”

Once she had narrowed her selection to a donor that she liked for his love of art, similar physical traits - naturally curly brown hair, brown eyes, and being of Italian descent - we purchased his family medical history, a baby photo of him, and a 10-minute long audio recording of him answering questions about his background, his family, and his reasons for wanting to donate his sperm. It wasn’t as much as I wanted to know about him, but it was enough for us to form the belief that he was a good man, with a solid family and medical history, who would help us to bring a child into the world.

We placed an order for three vials of sperm to be sent to Seattle Reproductive Medicine and I was put on my first round of hormone therapy just two weeks later.

Following the sadness and disappointment of two unsuccessful rounds of insemination, I insisted they do an intracytoplasmic sperm injection, a procedure where they would first harvest my eggs, then insert the semen directly into each egg in the lab, in the hopes that a viable embryo would form. Within ten days of that procedure, I was back at Seattle Reproductive medicine receiving the news that two viable embryos had formed. One was rated a grade A, and one had a grade of B minus. As the doctor explained, I had the option of implanting the more viable of the two, or both. The doctor left the room to allow me and Sara a few minutes to make a decision while a room was prepared.

“I want to have them implant both,” I begged Sara. After months of trying, several rounds of hormones, and two devastating failures, I was running out of time and money. We had just used the last vial of sperm for the lab procedure, and despite insurance covering much of the costs, I had wracked up more than $10,000 in credit card debt already. I also knew my $20,000 insurance coverage was a one-time benefit that I had almost used up completely. I reminded her of all this.

“But what if we end up with twins,” she asked? “I agreed to have a baby with you, but I never agreed to have two. Especially two at once!” Her anxiety was in full force, she was on the verge of tears, and I was scared that she would say no and my dream had the potential to end here. There was no guarantee that either embryo would actually implant in my uterus and I knew this was our last chance. We sat there quietly for a moment, not touching or speaking.

“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “We’ll just do the one.” I felt simultaneously deflated and exhilarated, but knew that her commitment to this entire journey was already on shaky ground. Once the doctor returned and we shared our decision, he went to ask a nurse to prepare me for the procedure.

As I laid in wait for the doctor, in the dimly lit room, I closed my eyes and said a prayer. I hadn’t prayed in years, but I knew that now was the time to ask for help. This was my last chance at becoming pregnant and I knew it.

******

Approximately twelve weeks later, we returned for their pregnancy test. A home test had already revealed that I was pregnant and the doctor had suggested we wait until the twelve week mark for the “official test.” We knew they would share the results with me at the appointment, so Sara had joined me. After submitting my urine test and waiting in the lobby for approximately twenty minutes, the nurse called us back.

Dr. Jamison entered his office without looking at us and seated himself in the chair behind the large desk. I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one holding my breath waiting for him to speak. “Well,” he began with a big grin on his face, looking back and forth between Sara and I, “I have amazing news. I can confirm you are pregnant!” I felt tears begin to form in the corners of both eyes. I squeezed Sara’s hand and heard her take a loud breath.

“Oh my god,” I said. “Thank you, Dr. Jamison, thank you!” I could barely get the words out because my tears of joy were overwhelming. I grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and tried to pull myself together. Sara sat next to me, let go of my hand, and leaned back in her chair looking at the ceiling. She was taking deep slow breaths the way she often did when her anxiety was overwhelming. I gently rubbed her back and after a moment she spoke.

“Is the baby healthy,” she asked. Her biggest concern since the first insemination was that a woman my age - almost forty - was considered at risk for problems with birthing, genetic disorders, and more. Though I’d gone through all kinds of tests and the only thing they had found was a propensity for pulmonary disorders in my genetic markers, it was still a valid concern. (Sara had tried to use this as another reason why I shouldn’t even try to get pregnant, despite her being the reason I hadn’t started trying eight years earlier.)

“First of all, it’s too soon to tell,” said Dr. Jamison. He explained that they would be able to do some further testing in another 8-10 weeks. “Why don’t we have a look with an ultrasound though, so you can leave with a photo of your little one.” We both nodded.

In the dimly lit room he led us into, I laid down on the table and pulled up my shirt. Dr. Jamison prepared the machine and a wand with some very cold gel. As he pushed it around my belly, we began to hear the heartbeat. It was fast, rhythmic, and one of the most beautiful sounds my ears had ever heard. It was hard to tell what we were looking at on the monitor and Dr. Jamison wasn’t saying much. He seemed to be concentrating on finding a good angle.

“Well, I’ll be,” he paused as he continued to glide the wand over my body. “Do you see what I see,” he asked? He looked at me and I shook my head from side to side with a grin. He reached his free hand to take mine in his. What was only a few seconds felt like hours as we waited for him to continue. “We are hearing two heartbeats,” he said reassuringly, “and you are pregnant with twins.” He shared this carefully, knowing that this news may be received positively or negatively.

I turned and looked at Sara as she let go of my hand; her face had gone white. She refused to look at me and I could tell that she was stunned into silence. In that moment it was impossible to tell what she was feeling but I knew how overwhelmed I felt myself. This was not something I’d imagined happening, but it was Sara’s worst nightmare and she had told me so several times in the week since the at home pregnancy test revealed I was pregnant.

Though overwhelmed, part of me was also thrilled with this news. I had the sensation of my future flashing before my eyes. Two cribs, two babies, two of everything… double the expense. We only had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a mere 900 square feet. It had felt perfect for one baby and I had imagined, especially recently, how our little family would blossom there for many years to come. But now the financial and physical implications were flying at me at a million miles a minute. I told myself to slow down, don’t get ahead of yourself, be present in this moment. I reached out and took Sara’s hand in my own, squeezed it, and said, “It’s okay, Sara. We’ll figure it out.”

She jerked her hand away and looked at me with tears in her eyes. “You selfish…” she started to scream, but caught herself in front of Dr. Jamison. She looked at me with so much anger I could feel the heat of it. “I can’t believe you did this to me.” I couldn’t comprehend her anger in that moment. I looked at Dr. Jamison for answers, scrunching my forehead together and shaking my head, trying to understand what was happening. “You did this on purpose,” she said. She stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving me to wade through several more minutes of questions and answers about what would happen next, when all I wanted to do was run after Sara and ask her what the hell she was talking about.

*****

Sitting here near the shore I felt at peace remembering that day, knowing I had done nothing wrong. Sara was convinced that I had told the doctor to implant both embryos despite our joint decision and had lied to her. She blamed me for being pregnant with twins when the truth was I had been terrified at the thought of it.

After she had stormed out of the clinic that day, Dr. Jamison had explained to me that it was a natural (but not common) occurrence for an embryo to split into two; something we could not have predicted. Especially since neither mine nor the donor’s medical background indicated any history of twins in past generations.

I accepted it as a sign that I was meant to be mom to two children, not one.

When I had found Sara in the car in the parking garage twenty minutes later, fuming, I had tried to share Dr. Jamison’s words with her, but she refused to listen. She was convinced that I had lied to her and accused me of tricking her into this entire endeavor in the first place. Her anger and rage felt palpable, and nothing I said could calm her down, so I had ultimately exited the vehicle and decided to find another way home.

If there was one thing I knew, it was how important it was for me to take care of my health, my body, and the two little humans growing in my belly. I would protect my peace and sacrifice anything for them, including my own marriage.

*****

It had been easy to tell my family the news about the pregnancy and the twins. Even though they all lived several states away, they were already planning how they would show up for us. I felt immense gratitude for their unwavering support and love.

What I had not yet figured out how to tell them was that Sara, convinced of my betrayal and finally giving in to her true fears just a few weeks later, had left me last Sunday after fifteen years together.

Not even me. Us. She’d walked away from all that could have been.

So I had driven the hour to the coast that morning, knowing that the sounds of the waves crashing on shore and the smell of the salty sea air would ease my mind and bring me the clarity I needed. From here on out, it would be just us three navigating the world together. Whatever happened, I was grateful for the steps that had brought me here and looking forward to the journey ahead.

I looked out at the ocean with appreciation for its calming nature, wiped the tears of joy from my eyes, and pulled my phone out of my pocket to dial my mom’s number.

“Hi honey,” she said excitedly. “I was just going to call you! How are you and my grand babies doing?” I smiled knowing we would all be okay.