I was a nursing student in Virginia in 2002. I had gone through two years of waiting to get into school. My classes were put off one year because I was in the navy and could not make the class convening deadline. The second year, classes were put off because I was pregnant with my first son, who was going to be born during the middle of the first semester of school.

Finally, my son was 10 months old, and I got to start classes. Little did I know that I got pregnant for the second time the day classes started! I felt as if I were pregnant about two weeks into classes. But every test I bought came up negative. So I kept going about my life.

Then October 3, 2002, the pregnancy test finally said positive. I was so horrified to tell my husband. We didn't want to have another child until after I was done with school. Our lives were just getting back on track, and now another child!

Quickly, my mind figured up a due date that was perfect for my class schedule. The baby would be born the end of May or beginning of June. Classes would be over, and I would have the whole summer to spend with my newborn before attending classes again. It was going to be more work for me, but it was perfect. I knew I could pull it off.

Then, November 15, 2002, I had my first ultrasound - TWINS! I saw the two babies before the doctor did and immediately began crying. "My life was over," is all I could think about. I would have to drop out of school. I would probably never get back into school. How were we going to afford three children on one military paycheck?

I was a mess when I left the ultrasound office that day. Needless to say, my husband didn't take the news much better. For a month I walked around thinking about how big I was going to get, how stretched out I was going to be after delivery. All the money it was going to cost to support three small children. How I was ever going to get any sleep with twins? Was I going to breastfeed or bottle feed twins?

Then on December 9, 2002, I went to the doctor's for my second ultrasound. With twins you get a lot of ultrasounds. The tech talked to me about my babies and told me they were both boys. They were in separate sacs, but they only had one placenta for the two of them. This was cause for concern, but nothing major.

Then the tech left the room to get the doctor. The doctor asked me if I was taking prenatal vitamins when I conceived. I had just stopped breastfeeding my first son by two weeks when I got pregnant the second time. So I said, "No. Why? Is there something wrong?" The doctor said, "I need to see you in my office when you get cleaned up." Then she left the room and the tech behind her.

My mind was racing. Then I remembered that the tech said the twins were both boys, and boys tend to hold on to their urine instead of releasing it like girls in the womb. This happened with my first son. So my mind slowed down a bit.

When I walked in to the doctor's office, I was smiling because I knew what she was going to talk about. Then I saw her grab a box of tissues and place it at the end of her desk as she told me to sit down. She said very coldly, "You have a baby with anencephaly. This means that your baby does not have the top of his head. This is a terminal condition, and you will need to see a genetics counselor."

I remember that I was still smiling in disbelief, like she didn't really tell me there was something wrong with MY child. Then I began to shake uncontrollably. I didn't know what to do.

I somehow managed to walk down the hall to the genetics counselor's office. But she was busy, so I had to wait in the hall! I was now sobbing uncontrollably and shaking even worse. I was in the hospital for two hours before they felt comfortable enough to let me leave on my own.

I was scheduled for an emergency amniocentesis three days later to determine if there were any other problems with the pregnancy. In the meantime, I was also told that my second son had extra extremities and only two vessels to his umbilical cord. This could mean any number of things could happen.

I was given the choice to terminate the whole pregnancy, carry the twins to term or terminate the anencephalic twin. All the options were inconceivable except carrying to term. Everyone around me wanted me to terminate. It didn't matter to them which termination I chose, just to terminate.

My whole life turned upside down. Since I had found out about the twins, I wanted my pregnancy to end so that I could go on with my life. But after hearing the news that I had a baby that was not going to live, all I wanted to do was hold that baby more than anything in the world. YES, my attitude changed drastically about being pregnant with twins. My turmoil wasn't over that week.

My son, Stephen, the one with anencephaly, was collecting amniotic fluid in his sac, which made me look like I was carrying an elephant at only 5 months. When I went into preterm labor, the doctors removed 7 liters of fluid off of Stephen's sac. Repeat, 7 liters. That is three and a half 2-liter Coke bottles. There was so much fluid in Stephen's sack that Noah, his twin, was squished into a small pocket underneath my ribcage.

The doctors kept me from delivering my tiny babies that week. I was in the hospital for three days. I returned the following week to have 1 liter drained off of Stephen's sac. I was told that was going to be a weekly thing. I prayed to God about it, and I never had to go in to have fluids drained off the rest of the pregnancy. Thank the Lord. That is a very painful process!

Now, the rest of the pregnancy was smooth, except the doctors kept telling me that my son, Stephen, was growing at a phenomenal rate, and my son, Noah, was not growing at all. Every week I had an ultrasound until I delivered my babies.

The doctor felt that my baby, Noah, had a better chance of surviving the birth if I had a Cesarean section. He was the second baby and would have been delivered after the placenta. The stress on him would have been too much, the doctor felt.

So on May 9, 2003, I went into surgery, praying the whole time that they were wrong about my babies. That they were both perfect and whole and coming home with me in a few days. At 7:56 a.m. my son, Stephen, was born. My mother and husband were in the room with me.

My mother leaned down with tears in her eyes and whispered, "He is perfect." I knew that the doctors were right about him having anencephaly. I still prayed that when I saw him that it wasn't true. He came into this world screaming just like any other baby. He had to be fine.

Then they pulled out my placenta and found out I had two placentas. They were just fused together to look like only one. Then at 7:57 a.m. my son, Noah, was born. My husband said, "There is nothing wrong with him." He was screaming even louder than his brother born just a minute before him.

I laughed. Then I was able to see my precious babies. My husband brought Stephen to me first. He was so beautiful. He was so very perfect except that he didn't have the top of his head. He wasn't deformed in anyway, nor was he blue like I was told he could be. He was absolutely perfect!

How could this be? He wasn't supposed to be so beautiful. He looked exactly like his father. He even had long black hair around his ears and on the back of his head.

My heart rate plummeted, and it took a lot of drugs and almost an hour to get my heart rate to stabilize so that I could go to recovery. The whole time I was thinking, "I need to get out of here. I need to hold my baby boy. He needs his mother."

I finally got to hold my little Stephen. It was so heartbreaking that I still can not stand to think about it. He had a little cap on and a little T-shirt. He was talking up a storm. He wasn't quiet for one second, just making clicking noises and squeaks.

We had him baptized and dedicated to God. Our little precious son lived for 20 hours before he had a series of seizures that finally took his life. He died in my arms. His soul passed over our son, Noah, who was sound asleep. Noah let out a strange cry and went back to sleep.

Little Stephen went to heaven to be with his Heavenly Father. He is more perfect now than he was when he was born. I am thankful for the time that I was allowed to spend with him. He really taught us all a lesson about love.

Noah was supposed to be so much smaller than his twin, Stephen, and have extra digits. He was as perfect as could be. He weighed one ounce more than Stephen and had no extra digits. He did have two vessels to his umbilical cord, but that didn't seem to hurt him in anyway.

He is a hefty 16 pounds now. He has a beautiful round head with no hair. He looks exactly like his mother.

One thing is for sure. No matter how long I had with my son, Stephen, it was enough to last a lifetime. He is always with me. He was briefly in our arms, but he is forever in our hearts. He is with his Heavenly Father now.

Someday, we will meet up again. I am looking forward to the day. I miss him incredibly so, but I am thankful that I have his little brother to watch grow and to love with all I am worth.