The Case of the Vanishing Twin

It sounds like the title of a Nancy Drew book, doesn't it?

Several weeks ago I found out that I am pregnant with our third child. What I didn't know at the time was that I was actually pregnant with our third and fourth children.

I had my first ultrasound a week after we got back from our spring break trip and the picture showed that this pregnancy had started out as twins, but was now just a singleton.

Two little sacks. Only one baby. Only one heartbeat.

My condition is commonly known as vanishing twin syndrome. Two eggs are fertilized, one baby grows and develops normally, the other baby simply does not. There are no real health complications to the surviving baby because of this, with the exception of possible slowed growth near the end of the pregnancy. Due to my "advanced maternal age" of almost 36 and my history with preeclampsia, and now the vanishing twin, I'm being monitored more closely by my doctors: in-depth baseline testing, more regular testing throughout the pregnancy, and two more ultrasounds than usual. So far everything is normal, and I'm incredibly thankful for that.

As I lay there on the little ultrasound bed, my first reaction was relief. I never wanted twins; just the thought of two babies at once (doubling the number of children I had) caused me anxiety. And after having my second baby come three weeks early due to preeclampsia, the health ramifications of twins scared me. All of the weight of what twins meant came rushing over me, but was lifted from me at the same time because the reality was, there is only one baby.

There is a part of me, though, that mourns the loss of that little life. I have now joined the multitude of women who have a child they've never met waiting for them in heaven. I'm also the first to acknowledge that my grief is minuscule compared to those women who have lost babies much farther along in their pregnancies. I lost this baby before I even knew I had him or her. I have only known this child as a being that is no longer there. It's an odd feeling.

At my first ulatrasound, Baby A (surviving twin) measured 7 weeks 3 days; Baby B's sack (vanishing twin) measured 6 weeks 5 days. At my second ultrasound exactly one week later, Baby A measured 8 weeks 3 days, and Baby B's sack still measured 6 weeks 5 days, confirming that we will only be having one baby.

Now that I've had time and space to process all of the information and the emotions, I feel at peace. I believe that God knew my fears and anxieties as well as my capabilities and the needs of my other children, and decided to give me just one more child.

So here I am, the mother of two little boys, with one baby on the way, headed into spring with to do lists written all over the place, grandiose plans that most likely won't come to fruition but might get partly done, taking every nausea-filled day one step at a time.