Ticking biological clock...

In August 2006, I was holding on to a floundering relationship in the hope that my boyfriend would realise that he loved me more than life itself and wanted to have children with me. But, after repeated attempts to make the relationship work, it became clear that he did not want to get married or have children – at least not with me. After a few sessions with Penny, my psychologist, I realised that I was not so sad about losing him as much as the prospects of marriage and the thought of having a child. I was 36 and my biological clock was ticking so loud my neighbours could probably hear it.

In previous sessions with Penny, we had discussed artificial insemination but it seemed like a huge step to carry and have a baby on my own. My own father died when I was six and my mother never remarried. Not having a father was very hard for me and I did not want my child to have those kinds of issues. I really do believe a child needs two parents, and would I be depriving my child of a vital part of his or her growth? How could I make it less difficult for them and still allow them the maximum growth in their lives?

I had also investigated and considered adoption, fostering or providing a safe haven for children but a reconciliation in the relationship put those thoughts on hold. When the relationship finally ended, Penny referred me to the Fertility Clinic at Vincent Pallotti Hospital in Cape Town. It took a while for me to take the leap and actually make an appointment but at the beginning of December I finally picked up the phone and made an appointment for January 18 2007. In preparation, I went off the pill, started training with a personal trainer, stopped partying and informed my close friends and family of my plan.

Perhaps inevitably, it was met with some skepticism; one or two people tried to talk me out of it. It was more their own “father issues” than my ability to be a mother; one thing most of my friends agreed on is that I would make a good mom. It was also very hard for some of them to let go of the traditional point of view where a child has a mother and a father, regardless of the state of that relationship. The net effect was that I was so panicked by 15 January that I moved the appointment to March 1. By that date, most of my friends were taking me seriously and giving me their support.

The technicalities of IVF

My appointment was with Professor Thinus Kruger, who asked me a lot of questions about my support network, my health and my plans for the future. I think a referral from my psychologist smoothed the way. Prof Kruger explained the process to me. I would receive me five fertility drugs, which I would take on the third day of my period. Ten days after the first tablet, they would start taking blood to see when I was ovulating. They would give me a shot to bring on ovulation and then the insemination would take place. He then did a scan, a pap smear and took blood, predominantly to check for AIDS and sexually transmitted diseases.

When it came to selecting a donor, I was asked for my requirements, which were firstly that he be intelligent (most donors are medical students so one would assume they have good brains), that he play sport and be active, that he be white and that he have an extrovert/positive disposition. Race was important because I could not see myself raising a multicultural child on my own. I have three brothers, one of whom I shared a house with at the time. After telling my family and after they recovered from the initial shock, my brothers gave me their full support. I felt (and still feel) that my brothers would make great male role models for my child. I also chatted to some of my male friends about my concerns. They also gave me their full support ranging from offers if it was a boy – they would teach him to play cricket – and if it was a girl; they would screen her boyfriends. Having been raised in a single-parent household for the majority of my life, I know what it is like but the idea was still very daunting.

The insemination process was quite an anticlimax. I was taken to one of the rooms, where I lay back as if I was having my annual pap smear. The catheter was inserted and I did not feel a thing. The doctor said I was to lie there for 15 minutes and then I could go. It was so quiet and peaceful in the room I was just about asleep. I kept thinking it was so bizarre, a little human life was being created and there was no drum roll or theme music; just the mundane everyday things going on. I asked the doctor if there was anything specific I could not do, like go for a run or something. He laughed and said, “You are falling pregnant, you are not ill. Go for a run, it will do you good.” I am still waiting for that drum roll!!!

My pregnancy test was on the day before Good Friday. On the Wednesday, I did a urine pregnancy test and there was no line. I was devastated; it had never occurred to me that I might not get pregnant. The next morning, I did another urine test and the faintest line appeared. I had to hold it against the previous day’s test to see that there was a line.
I had the blood test later that day and the nurse phoned me with the result. I was pregnant. My mother was ecstatic; she bought a bassinet for the baby on Easter Sunday.

And then there were...two!

At seven weeks, I went for the first scan and my mom came with me. It was so exciting. The doctor said, “There is the baby.” He continued scanning, and then he said, “and there is the other.” It took a few seconds for the news to register; my mother was dancing around the sonar room. Twins! I was pregnant with twins!

After the initial shock wore off I was elated. I did not want to raise an only child. Having had three brothers, I could not relate to a single-child childhood. Problem solved – twins. I was too scared to buy stuff in case I jinxed it. Still no morning sickness, no weird cravings, just extreme exhaustion and a workload that was threatening to swamp me. Thank goodness my boss understood. After the seven-week scan, I started seeing my owngynae/obstetrician. Two obstetricians later, I was at Mowbray Hospital Active Birthing Unit. I desperately wanted natural child birth, and private obstetricians were not willing to consider natural birth with twins. My mom came with me to most of my appointments and scans. We went for the 24-week scan at the Foetal Assessment Centre and found out I was having a boy and a girl. However, it was not all good news. My son was growing almost as well as a single baby but my daughter was not doing so well. She was intrauterine growth retarded; her umbilical cord was not functionally optimally and she was tiny.

At five months, I had some bleeding and was booked off work until the next scan. This brought good news; the break from work had been good for my daughter. She had grown significantly and was doing well. I was feeling them moving more and more. My daughter was moving a lot; most of the movement came from her area of the womb. As I got bigger and bigger, I peed every 30 minutes and my joints grew sore from the weight. I couldn’t eat for three; there was simply no space for food. The next scan at 33 weeks was not good. Ava, my daughter, was again not doing well. Her growth in comparison to her brother’s was not enough. Dr Karen Norman at the Foetal Assessment Centre at Kingsbury Hospital was very concerned for her. I was booked off work and sent for steroid injections to prepare their little lungs for premature birth.

I went to book my C-section but never left the Mowbray Maternity hospital (I was still hoping against the odds for natural birth) until the twins were born two days later. I had preeclampsia, elevated liver function and Ava was taking strain. The theatre staff were wonderful, especially the anaesthetist. I opted for a spinal block and she talked me through the whole thing. A few minutes later, the twins were born. Ava came out first. She was tiny and weighed only 1,7 kilos. Fortunately, she was alert and they let me hold her for a few seconds. Cayden was small at 2,3 kilos but much bigger than his sister. I did not get to hold him because he had problems breathing. He was put into the same incubator as his sister.

The next few days were a blur of trips to the nursery, breastfeeding Ava, expressing milk because premature babies can’t breastfeed too long (it takes too much energy), cup feeding and sitting next to Cayden’s incubator stroking any un-needled part of his body. Cayden was in ICU for five days and he came home a week after his birth, Ava came home 12 days after her birth. Taking the twins home was wonderful. Cayden came home first because he was such a strapping lad; Ava came home four days later. The nanny took care of the house and I took care of the twins until I went back to work after four months. Then the nanny looked after them while I was at work.

All of my free time was spent with them; I did not want to miss a second with them. At eight months, the nanny left and the children went to crèche. I was apprehensive about it but from day one Ava thrived. Cayden took a while to settle but now he is as happy as a lark. Having twins is so special. People want to talk to you; they want to see your children. My children love people back and they interact with such openness. My only regret is that I did not do this sooner. I have never been so happy or so at peace; my whole world has been turned upside down and I love it.