Like I Have Time For This?

Today is the ninth anniversary of the premature birth and subsequent death of my first two children, identical twin boys.

The twins died due to a rare pregnancy complication called Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS), in which identical twins in utero (sharing the same placenta) get their blood vessels crossed inside the placenta and one twin begins to give all its nutrients to the other twin. Over time, without treatment, this results in one twin who’s basically starving to death, and one who’s so overfed that his blood becomes too thick and he faces heart failure.

The condition is rare enough that research into causes and prevention of the syndrome was only just beginning back in the 80’s and 90’s, and so far, the only thing they’ve been able to determine is that identical twins who contract this illness seem to split somewhat later than what is considered normal.

The condition was rare enough back in 1998, in fact, that my first obstetrician missed all the signs and  symptoms of the illness which I began to show at the end of the first trimester, and didn’t even believe me when I called her office to complain of intense abdominal pain. That doctor, in fact, refused to take my call at all. She told a nurse to tell me to go see my primary care doctor and to get a blood test. I did as she said, and because I had just moved to a new town, I had to pick a primary care physician from a book. That doctor (another woman) took a quick look at me (and I looked about 10 months pregnant even though I was only just starting my 5th month, due to vast quantities of excess amniotic fluid distending my belly), poked me a few times, and then sneered a bit and asked if I was normally a very thin person.

“Yes,” I said. “I come from thin people. My natural metabolism and my history of pernicious anemia keep me thin.”

She sneered again, told me that the terrible pain was “just something I would have to deal with” and that I would have to just get used to it since I was having twins. She told me, in other words, that I had to suck it up. Stop acting like such a baby.

Two weeks later, my sons were dead, and I’d developed an inherent distrust of all female physicians that remains with me to this day.