The Boys

I am sure that most of my acquaintances are not aware that I have 2 boys. Nothing scandalous here. In 1984, Terri and I became pregnant. A you can imagine, we were excited to add to our family. Lyndy was turning 4 years old, so the timing was perfect.

Around the third month of the pregnancy, it became apparent that either Terri was going to bear an elephant, or she was sacrificing her girlish figure for the next bon-bon fix. She was getting huge. A trip to the doctor followed by a sonogram confirmed that neither was true. Terri was pregnant with twins. That caused a shock wave across the Bryant household. We were living in a small two bedroom home. We could have shoe horned one additional child into the space, but two was really not possible.

We immediately began to plan an expansion. We thought of building a large bedroom over the garage, but dropped that plan due to high cost and low effectiveness. After a few contractors provided their recommendations, we decided to build out the back of the house with a large great room, second bathroom and third bedroom. Since I am relatively handy, we only wanted the addition roughed in. I would finish the interior and paint the exterior.

The work began. Terri continued to grow. A church friend was our contractor and he neared completion of his part of the work about the time we learned the pregnancy was not progressing normally. A trip to a specialist found that Terri was taking on inordinate amounts of amniotic fluid. In large part, this was the reason for her size. Terri was admitted to the hospital and put on total bed rest.

She remained in the hospital for several weeks. Periodically, the doctors would drain amniotic fluid from her belly. The reason was that with so much fluid, the twins could move about rather freely, and the risk of tangled umbilical cords leading to death was high. Back then, premature infants typically did not survive unless they had reached 29 weeks. At 27 weeks we learned that instead of two heartbeats, there was only one. We were determined to get the surviving twin to the 29th week and a premature birth.

About a week later, there were no heartbeats. Terri was induced to deliver our stillborn children. This was a very difficult time for both of us, but especially for Terri. Amid her own labor pains, she heard the cries of other mothers and their newly born infants, knowing that hers were already dead. The mental anguish and her physical pain stretched over 24 hours until my sons were born.

The nursing staff asked if we wanted to see them before they were respectfully disposed of. We did, so each was brought in, wrapped in a blanket for us to see and hold briefly. That is the only time in my adult life that I had freely cried. It is also the time that I realized why I am pro-life. I remember holding my son who looked as if he were sleeping. I realized that infants that looked just as he did were routinely slaughtered every day for the sake of convenience. The horror of abortion became very real and unimaginable. It was also the time in my life where I began to appreciate the work of the March of Dimes. Today, and through their support, premature infants at 27 week gestation routinely survive.

The rest of our story is that we finished the addition and enjoyed it for years to come. We waited 4 more years, until Allison was born, before we were able fill the 3rd bedroom. I still think of the boys occasionally.

There will be a day when I will see them again.