Part Six: The Call
But during the fifth month of our pregnancies, our excitement turned into fear.
At twenty weeks, the clinic recommended an expanded genetic screening.
It’s a newer test. More detailed than the standard ones. They draw your blood and look at the baby’s DNA floating in it. It can find chromosomal problems and some genetic conditions.
It can also show things you weren’t looking for.
We both had our blood drawn on the same day. In early June.
Two weeks later, one morning, the genetics clinic called.
I was at work. On the pediatric floor. Changing an IV bag for a four-year-old with pneumonia.
My phone buzzed in my scrub pocket. I didn’t recognize the number.
I answered in the hallway.
“Sarah Lindell?”
“Yes?”
“This is Rachel. I’m a nurse with the Genetics Center at Ohio State. Dr. Harrison needs to speak with you and Emily Carver as soon as possible.”
Something in her voice immediately worried me.
I’ve been a nurse for ten years. I know that voice. I’ve used that voice.
“Is there a problem with our babies?” I asked.
Rachel hesitated.
“Please come to the clinic,” she said. “The doctor will explain everything.”
“When?”
“Today,” she said. “If you can. Three o’clock.”
I called Emily immediately.
She was at the library. In the middle of story time. I could hear the kids singing in the background.
“Em,” I said. “We need to go to the genetics clinic. Today. At three.”
There was a long pause.
“Both of us?” she said.
“Both of us.”
Part Seven: Dr. Harrison
Neither of us said much during the drive.
Forty minutes from Westbrook to Columbus. I drove. Emily sat in the passenger seat with both hands on her belly, looking out the window at the cornfields.
At one point, she reached over and took my hand.
She didn’t let go until we parked.
The Genetics Center is on the fourth floor of a medical building at Ohio State. A quiet waiting room with soft chairs and a fish tank and framed pictures of DNA helixes on the walls.
Rachel came to get us. She took us down a long hallway to a corner office.
When we entered Dr. Harrison’s office, he was studying two genetic reports.
They were displayed side by side on two computer monitors on his desk. Columns of numbers and letters and colored bars.
He was in his sixties. Gray hair. Wire glasses. A kind face.
He didn’t greet us with his usual reassuring smile.
Instead, he examined the results again.
Then he got up, walked past us, and slowly closed the office door.
He sat back down.
He looked at both of us.
“Before we discuss these findings,” he said, “I need to confirm something.”
Emily gripped my hand.
“What is it, Doctor?” she said.
“Are you absolutely certain,” Dr. Harrison said, “that the same sperm donor was used for both pregnancies?”
“Yes,” we answered together.
“Donor 4471,” I said. “Daniel. From Heritage Cryobank.”
He nodded slowly.
He looked at the screens once more.
His expression grew increasingly serious.
“The genetic similarities between your babies,” he said, “are not entirely what we expected.”
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
“But they share the same biological father,” Emily said. “Wouldn’t that explain the similarities?”
“It would explain some of them,” Dr. Harrison said carefully.
He pointed at the screens.
“Half-siblings share about twenty-five percent of their DNA,” he said. “That’s what we’d expect between your babies.”
He paused.
“These two fetuses,” he said, “share closer to thirty-seven percent.”
I stared at the numbers on the screen. I didn’t understand them.
But I understood the look on his face.
“These preliminary findings,” Dr. Harrison said, “suggest there may be another biological connection we haven’t accounted for.”
I instinctively placed my hands over my stomach.
“Doctor, please tell us,” I said. “Are our babies sick?”
He looked at me. Then at Emily.
“We haven’t established that either child has a medical condition,” he said. “Further testing is necessary.”
He paused before continuing.
“I’ve worked in this field for twenty-seven years,” he said. “I’ve rarely encountered a situation like this.”
He folded his hands on the desk.
“If these results are confirmed,” he said, “there is something extremely important you both need to understand. About your children’s biological relationships. And possible medical risks.”
Emily’s hand tightened around mine.
“Then tell us,” she whispered.
Dr. Harrison took a slow breath.
“First,” he said, “I need to ask you both a question about your families.”
I stared at him.
“What question?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“Sarah,” he said. “Emily.”
He paused.
“Are you absolutely certain,” he said, “that the two of you aren’t biologically related?”
