Only one of my babies will come home

Allie Scott - 10 May 16

Tomorrow I will have a termination at 32 weeks.

Whilst scanning the doctor will take a needle and pass it into my baby’s heart, injecting a lethal dose of potassium. My baby will die within minutes. My baby’s sister will hopefully be born in 6-8 weeks time, happy and healthy.

We found out at 10.5 weeks pregnant that we were expecting twins. I had gone for a private scan after some spotting. My husband survived a hideous form of cancer in 2006, leaving us unable to have another child naturally. We had conceived our beautiful daughter in-between his operation and radiotherapy. In January 2014 we discovered our infertility, six rounds of IUI resulting in two miscarriages quickly followed. Then a very expensive round of IVF finally worked. We were beyond ecstatic, yet very, very cautious.

This was my fifth scan. 2 early scans had detected a second sac following the transfer of 2 embryos. 3 NHS scans had revealed one sac, one heartbeat. We had wondered why one had made it and one hadn’t but after so long of trying for another baby, we were just happy not to have to endure another gruelling round of fertility treatment.

The sonographer found my baby easily – now looking like a baby, wriggling around and waving at us. And then we saw it at the same time. A second baby, slightly smaller and in a much smaller sac but with a good heartbeat and bouncing about. I was on my own at the scan and spent the journey home thinking about how to tell my husband, occasionally shouting ‘you little bugger!’ excitedly at my hidden baby.

I showed him the scan, pointing out the baby, it’s limbs, the sac it was in. ‘Here’s baby’, I said and he smiled, cooed and made all the right noises (still not sure he totally knew what he was looking at). ‘And here’s baby two’. HIs eyebrows raised, he brought his hand up to his mouth ‘Fuck!’.

But we were happy, thrilled even. For a total of 10 days.

In that time we told our 8 year old daughter that her wish had come true, that she was going to be a big sister to not one but two babies. Her response was to smile, say she was happy and ask if she could go watch tele. It took a few days for her to get over the initial shock but as soon as she realised that this would make her somewhat of a celeb at school she set about telling anyone and everyone who would listen.

And then came xmas eve 2015, date of our 12 week scan. A long, drawn out process ensued where we discovered, bit by bit, scan by scan that our Baby B was very, very poorly and would never come home with us and its twin sister.

Our first meeting with our Fetal Medicine expert revealed that our baby had bilateral renal agenisis. No functioning kidneys meaning no lungs would form and the baby had almost no amniotic fluid around it. Follow up scans showed a heart condition and fluid on the brain. At present we suspect a trisomy or triploidy – an amnio carried out at the termination will be able to tell us a little bit more as well as be able to tell us whether it is a little boy or a little girl. We were offered the options of a termination at 16 weeks with a risk of death to baby A of no less that 15%, a termination at 32 weeks with little risk to Baby A or taking Baby B to birth, adding risk to the birth of A and being forced to watch Baby B die slowly after birth.

We told our daughter, family and friends that we would only be bringing one baby home. No-one knew what to say. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t know what to say. We have deliberated over our decision long and hard. I have read books on carrying terminally ill babies to birth. I have changed my mind several times. I swallow hard when strangers tell me how big I am – ‘are you sure there’s not two in there?’.

All I know is that at present we are making the best decision possible for both our babies and our family as a whole. Baby B will die inside me tomorrow, never having suffered the trauma of birth or being unable to breathe. Baby B will only ever have known the love and warmth of my womb. Today I am going walking in the sun with friends to give my baby a happy, peaceful last day.

When our Baby A is born in a  few weeks time, her sibling will be born too. We will name both our babies, we will love and bathe both of our babies.  We will take huge comfort in the birth of our healthy baby. We will also have to plan a cremation and funeral – ashes will be scattered with the ashes of my miscarriages, my dad and my childhood dog around the base of huge oak tree by a fast running brook in a bluebell wood where we go to walk to remember those we have lost.

Today is a bittersweet day. Today will be our last full day with our silent baby. I have never felt him or her move due to the lack of fluid. But tomorrow will be one more step towards moving away from the sorrow and towards the joy of seeing both my babies after so long.

I will never forget my silent twin, how long it struggled to stay alive to save the life of it’s twin sister. How much joy and heartache it has given us. How much more understanding it has given me of the human condition.

Inside I often feel hollowed out, raw, beyond comprehension of just how hard life can be made for you and those you love. And then I get a cuddle and a kiss on my bump from my daughter and I feel Baby A shift inside of me, knowing that Baby B has felt those kisses, those movements and will always be a part of us. I take great strength in that for now, we are doing the very best thing possible for all of our beautiful, tragic, wonderful little family.

Allie Scott

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