As at every single meeting, Jon and I expressed on the one hand our serious reservations about the possibility of multiples, and on the other hand our desire for the doctor to fully understand our unwavering position on selective reduction. Selective reduction, in my opinion, is the politically correct term for the process by which a fetus is injected with a lethal dose of potassium chloride, which mercilessly silences forever the rhythmic beats of its tiny heart. Jon and I believe that every life, whether seconds old after conception or a full forty-week term, robustly healthy or horribly sick, fully developed or severely challenged—every life is designed and ordained from God. We would therefore never consider choosing to end that life in any way at any time. Period.
At the scheduled ultrasound on a sunny Sunday morning, the doctor was thrilled. He discovered three mature follicles and possibly even a fourth follicle with the potential to still mature. While Jon and I had that night-before-Christmas kind of anticipation, we were still concerned that all four follicles would somehow be fertilized. Up until that point, when we spoke of multiples, we basically had been referring to the possibility of twins. That was what we had experienced, and so that was our reality. Never did we ever really allow our minds to fully wrap around the idea of multiples turning into more than twins. As if reading our thoughts, our doctor was quick to reassure us that statistically it would be very unlikely that all four or even three of the follicles would be fertilized. He also was completely thorough in giving us an escape route if we so chose. We could simply discontinue the injections and repeat the process in two months, aiming for enough but not too many follicles.