Bisola scrutinized the dark pink plumes of blood in the beige porcelain toilet, unsure of how to feel. She knew that it had officially started. Several days earlier, the midwife at her last prenatal appointment at the eight weeks and five days mark of her pregnancy had told her the news matter-of-factly. "Although there are what seems like two gestational sacs, indicating a twin pregnancy, you should prepare to miscarry because the first sac has not grown much, since you came in at five weeks, and the second sac is collapsing on itself," she said to Bisola, her voice devoid of empathy. The midwife continued to look at the ultrasound image on the screen mounted high on the wall in the exam room, as she probed around with the ultrasound wand. The midwife abruptly pulled out the wand, and sat down opposite Bisola in a blue plastic chair. "Actually, I'm sure the second one is a hematoma and not a sac. I've seen this before. Sorry," she concluded, with a blank stare. In that moment, Bisola went from being the excited, yet apprehensive expected mother of twins, to a woman who was no longer pregnant; merely the object of the sonographer's pity, having an unfortunate miscarriage. The sonographer who had initially joined Bisola and Obinna in laughter at the possibility of twins upon seeing two sacs on the monitor, made an excuse to scurry out of the room. Bisola's short-lived joy had been pummeled in the blink of an eye.
17 September 2014