A Twin Pregnancy Part 2: Unexpected Prenatal Diagnosis

The day we’d been eagerly awaiting had finally arrived—the day we’d finally find out the gender of our twins. The first ultrasound 9 weeks earlier had been quite a shock. Though I’d had a feeling we might be having multiples, to find out that we actually were was surreal to say the least. I could never have imagined that twins would be in my future, and my husband, Mauricio, and I took a while to digest the information.

As the weeks went by and the initial surprise wore off, the fear of growing our family from one to three children and all that entailed grew into excitement as we addressed one concern after another and realized that we were going to be okay. God was with us and was giving us creative solutions, such as buying the narrowest car seats on the market so that we could fit all three that we would need in the backseat of our car without having to purchase a minivan that we couldn’t afford.

Ever since we’d found out about the twins, we’d been thinking about the possible combinations. Two boys, two girls, boy/girl. We asked our three-year-old, Thomas, what he would like. He told us he wanted two boys, and their names would be Thomas 2 and Thomas 3. Of course, any pairing would be amazing, but we came to the conclusion that a boy and a girl would be ideal—Thomas would have both a brother and sister, and the twins would enjoy a special bond but would also be known as unique individuals. Before the appointment, Mauricio sent out a group message to his family in Brazil playfully asking them to place their bets on the big gender reveal. The thought of any outcome less than joyous never once entered our minds. Were we ever in for a rude awakening.

We arrived at the clinic on November 3rd, 2016 and I laid down on the examination table for a second time. I felt the familiar warmth of the gel, watched the grainy black and white moving picture on the screen, and soon heard the wom wom wom of one heartbeat and then another. As the technician moved the transducer over my belly, I tried to make sense out of the images.

With a quick gasp of delight I cried, “It’s a girl!”

“You’ve got a good eye,” replied the tech. “Yes, congratulations—you’re having a girl!”

I had always wanted a little girl, and I was filled with such overwhelming gratitude, hardly believing God’s goodness.

A couple of minutes later, she announced “And you’re also having a boy!”

Mau and I were thrilled. A boy and a girl, just as we’d been hoping.

The technician finished up and asked us to wait a few minutes for the doctor to come talk to us. We waited, completely unaware that anything was amiss. My pregnancy with Thomas had progressed beautifully. We had both been the picture of health from start to finish. I had never realized that the purpose of this ultrasound was not just to find out the babies’ gender, but also to screen for fetal abnormalities and to check the babies’ overall growth and development.

We were still absorbing the good news when the radiologist entered the room. He took a seat near the door and began.

“I’m sorry to inform you that we have detected a condition in Twin A called Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, otherwise known as CDH.” Twin A is the label our baby boy would carry throughout the pregnancy.

He continued, “I’m going to refer you to a special prenatal clinic for women with high-risk pregnancies. They’ll take over your prenatal care going forward, and they’d like to see you next week for an in-depth ultrasound. You should receive a call from them in the next day or so to set up the appointment.”

Without much more of an explanation, he answered a couple of questions and gave me a piece of paper with the name and contact information of the clinic. Mau and I left the clinic feeling somewhat confused. We had no information other than the name of the condition and no idea of its severity, so we glided through the following days hopeful that the next appointment would prove this diagnosis to be but a minor blip, easily resolved. We prayed daily, petitioning the Lord to heal our little boy, and I sincerely believed that he would. I hadn’t yet realized that God had a bigger plan, a plan that would require more than a quick fix, a plan to grow and to stretch us, and ultimately, a plan that would bring him glory.

We had no idea that we were about to embark on the ride of our lives—a ride fraught with gut-wrenching dives, unforeseen twists and turns, and breakneck speed hurtling us toward certain disaster, surviving only through our steadfast hope and trust in the Lord who held us securely.

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.” (Psalm 91:14-15)