Issue 21: One egg or two?

Saturday November 03 2018

One egg or two? Not in relation to my breakfast preference, but the number we will choose to put into Melissa’s uterus when the time comes. So, more accurately: one embryo or two? After “What is the point of existence?” and “Do we have free will?”, this is the biggest question. And it’s about as fundamental and complex as those two philosophical quandaries.

This is the thing: in America, particularly, women undergoing IVF often elect to put back two or even three embryos at a time because it increases the likelihood of pregnancy by small and varying degrees — and every improvement helps when you’re working with such emotionally vital statistics. As such, the occurrence of twins or triplets in the IVF community is significantly greater (I always think that, when celebrities have multiples, maybe their babies were not conceived as naturally as we think).

We are rapidly approaching our forties. The BC us (before cancer) would have had two children by now, so this is our chance to complete our family and fill our home in one fell swoop.

Furthermore, the “compensatory” cost of our surrogate having a multiple birth is a drop-in-the-ocean $5,000 (£3,900) per bonus baby, rather than the extortionate six-figure sum we’d pay to do it all over again. Therefore, it makes financial and scheduling sense to create two birds with one stone, as it were.

Only it’s not as simple as that. First, UK doctors generally don’t recommend putting two embryos in at once. Yes it increases the chances of pregnancy, but it also increases the chances of miscarriage. A multiple pregnancy is higher-risk. That’s not to say it’s anything to worry about if it happens — there are still chances of a single embryo splitting and becoming identical twins — but if we have knowledge of the statistics, do we really want to make an informed decision that could endanger the outcome?

I would love my child to have a sibling, however. With all the time it has taken to get here, wouldn’t it make more sense to try for two while we have the chance? Am I even comfortable with being given the jurisdiction to make this kind of decision? But then if I had a problem with interfering with nature’s way, I would have a fundamental problem with IVF and I certainly wouldn’t be trying to have a baby in this way. Maybe I’d go off antibiotics and anaesthetic too . . .

My instinctive reaction is fear. I’ve said it before, I’m nervous to have a baby that I don’t know from the inside. It must be such a humongous adjustment, a stress compounded by lack of sleep and constant wailing. It’s nearly impossible to imagine — like supposing what a migraine must feel like if you’ve never had one — but I already have a fear that I’ll be on the back foot having not felt my baby grow, or received the hormone surge or endorphins or whatever it is that allows you to automatically love something that stinks and pukes and assaults your eardrums.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll arrive at the same place as any other mother, it just might take me a few days or weeks or months longer for everything to click into place. It’s a gentle fear that never keeps me awake, more a mild and curious anxiety. But TWO OF THOSE? At once? Well that might be the straw that breaks the amateur Intended Parents’ back. I cannot imagine the constant worry of Mr B going back to work and me being left with two stranger-babies. It’s a bit of a leap, from zero to mother of twins with no practice or progesterone. Besides, we live in a Victorian terrace. We’d never fit a double buggy down the hall.

But then wait — the money! As always: the money, the money, the money. If we know we want two children eventually, doesn’t it make more sense to suck up the fear, resign myself to a year or so of extra-difficult times and look forward to coming out the other side, proud parent of two? We’d have the full family we’d always wanted — in fact, twins always seem extra special to me — and we’d potentially save thousands and thousands of dollars in the process.

Only this isn’t just about me. I need to be the best possible parent for my child. From newborn to adulthood, and if I let money help me to make a vital decision, I won’t start my parenting off right. My instinct is to take one step at a time. My heart strongly says concentrate on loving and nurturing one baby, give it my everything. That’s not to say parents of twins or triplets can’t love their many children as much as one, it’s just that I know me, and I have to trust my gut. The financial savings can’t influence my decision.

Almost all my friends think that I should try for twins. I suspect they’re romanticising the idea and can’t put themselves in my position to give a considered response, rather than a cute one. Mr B has always wanted twins; he’s in favour, in theory, but as always understands my perspective and knows me well enough to trust my reasoning. Then my wisest friend, Emma, tells me: “My mum had twins before me and she always said, ‘They never needed their mother because they always had each other.’ ” Not literally, of course, but I understand the sentiment and it tugs at my heart more than I thought it would.

After all of this, and with the baby or babies not having any connection to me until the birth, I viscerally want them to need me every step of the way. That will be my most important role in life. Maybe this is about me after all.