Page 26 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

“Extremely rare, but not impossible.” She turns the screen so I can see the grainy black and white image. “See these areas here? Each one contains a gestational sac with cardiac activity.”

I stare at the screen, my medical training warring with disbelief. Quintuplets occur in approximately one in sixty million pregnancies naturally. The statistical improbability is staggering.

“There must be a mistake,” I say weakly, though I can clearly see what she’s indicating. Five distinct sacs, flickering with pulses of life, where I’d hoped for zero and had prepared for one.

“No mistake,” she says gently. “You’re carrying quintuplets, Ms. Lamb. This will be considered an extremely high-risk pregnancy requiring specialized care.”

The room seems to contract around me, and the available air is suddenly insufficient. Five babies. Not one surprise to adapt to, but five. The physical, emotional, and financial implications cascade through my mind in overwhelming waves.

“I understand this is shocking news,” continues Dr. Garson, her voice gentle but professional. “There are specialists we should consult immediately. Multiple gestations of this order present significant risks to both you and the fetuses.”

I nod automatically, nurse mode engaging as a defense against emotional overload. “Increased risk of preterm labor, growth restriction, preeclampsia, and gestational diabetes...” The list continues in my head, each complication more serious than the last.

“Yes, exactly. You’ll need frequent monitoring and possibly hospitalization in later trimesters.” She removes the ultrasound wand, allowing me to sit up. “I’d like to discuss your options comprehensively, including selective reduction.”

The clinical term registers through my shock. Reducing the number of fetuses to improve chances for the remaining ones and decrease maternal risks. A practical medical intervention with profound ethical implications, especially for someone who spends her days fighting for the tiniest lives. “I need time,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel, “To process this.”

“Of course.” Dr. Garson hands me printouts of the ultrasound. “These are for you. I’ll give you privacy to dress, then we should discuss next steps regardless of what you decide.”

Alone again, I stare at the grainy images in my hand. Five tiny beings, each smaller than a raspberry, yet already with beating fetal poles that will later become fully functioning hearts if I don’t stop the process. Five lives I never planned for, conceived in a single night of unexpected connection.

I place my hand on my abdomen, still flat despite the improbable crowd already gathering within. How will I manage? Financially, logistically, and emotionally? A single mother to quintuplets, with no family support beyond Gisele, and no partner to share the overwhelming responsibility. It’s impossible.

Maxim’s face flashes in my memory. Would he want to know? Does he have a right to know? The questions pile up, unanswerable in this moment of raw shock.

I dress slowly, movements mechanical as my mind races ahead to impossible futures. When I emerge from the examination room, Gisele jumps up from her waiting room chair, eager for news. Her expression falls as she takes in my shell-shocked appearance. “Wil? What is it? What’s wrong?”

I hand her the ultrasound printouts wordlessly, watching her confusion transform to disbelief as she counts.

“A, B, C, D, and E?” She looks up, eyes wide with shock. “As in...five babies?”

“Quintuplets.” The word still feels foreign on my tongue.

“Holy shit.” She drops heavily into the nearest chair. “How is that even possible?”

“Extremely rare but not impossible.” I cling to medical facts as a lifeline amid emotional turbulence. “Approximately one in sixty million natural pregnancies.”

“Leave it to you to beat the odds in the most dramatic way possible.” Gisele’s attempt at humor falls flat, concern overwhelming her usual flippancy. “What happens now?”

The practical question centers me somewhat. “I meet with Dr. Garson to discuss options and specialized care. Then...” I trail off, the future suddenly too vast and uncertain to contemplate.

“Then we figure it out,” she says firmly, standing to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “Whatever ‘it’ turns out to be.”

I lean into her support, momentarily overwhelmed by gratitude for her presence. “Five babies, Gisele. How could I possibly...?”

“One step at a time,” she interrupts, surprising me with her uncharacteristic practicality. “Right now, the step is talking to the doctor. Tomorrow’s problems are for tomorrow.”

I nod. The enormity of five simultaneous lives growing inside me is too overwhelming to process all at once. I need to break this down into manageable pieces and approach it with the same methodical care I give my tiny patients.

Somehow, against astronomical odds, a single night with Maxim has resulted in not one new life, but five. Whatever connection sparked between us that night has multiplied beyond all statistical probability, binding us together in ways neither of us could have possibly anticipated.

Five babies. My babies. His babies. Our babies.

The reality settles over me like a weight and a wonder simultaneously as I prepare to face the first of countless decisions that lie ahead.

11

Mak

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