“Oh ish. Three.”
Those were the first words out of CH’s mouth the second the ultrasound tech closed the exam room door as she walked out.
I nodded as I shakily tried to put my pants back on.
We had just finished our first ultrasound, an ultrasound that showed not one, not two (like we’d anticipated), but three little amniotic sacs on the screen. Three sacs. Three tiny blobs. Three flickering hearts. Triplets.
I really don’t know why we were so surprised. We hail from IVF Nation, where the percentage of multiples pregnancies is high. But triplets hadn’t come up in any of the handful of conversations we’d had with our RE following our ERs or leading up to our ET. Our embryos were on the low end of the grading scale, and he hadn’t been convinced we’d conceive at all, so he’d given us statistics for just singletons and twins. In fact, in the transfer review he’d provided moments after inserting three tiny humans into my uterus, he’d said that we had an 18% chance of twins and stopped there. No mention of triplets. None. Zero. Zip. So we’d gone home knowing we had a small possibility of twins but praying (begging) for even one to stick.
Triplets didn’t even enter our minds. I mean, we acknowledged that they could happen—after all, we’d transferred three embryos. But the acknowledgement was fleeting and quickly dismissed. We still didn’t consider it 12 days later when my nurse called with our BFP and my ridiculously high hCG level. Not even when each beta yielded astronomically higher levels. Not even when my nurse said, “You probably have more than one in there.” We always thought it was twins.
And then we found ourselves staring at three sacs on a grainy black-and-white screen.
“I’m sorry, did you say three?” I responded when the tech nonchalantly said she counted three heartbeats. “Count again.”
Oh ish. Three.