by Jan Chaffin December 3, 2020

I have an insatiable appetite… for attention. An uncontrollable urge to interrupt consumes every conversation. I was born an only child but I don’t think that’s the whole story. I’m pretty sure I ate my own twin.

Apparently it’s not that uncommon. There’s even a name for it: “Vanishing Twin Syndrome”.  “A twin disappears in the uterus during pregnancy… the fetal tissue is absorbed by the other twin… or the mother.” It’s also called “Twin Resorption”. And it seems “high resorption rates suggest intense fetal competition…”

I started down a fascinating rabbit hole of related topics, including: 

– Pregnant babies

– Twins with different fathers

– Stone babies

– Men who give birth

– Women who get pregnant while pregnant.

– Self-fertilizing women

There are, sadly, even parchment flattened twins called: Fetus papyraceus

When I was about 13, I remember Mom casually mentioning the doctor heard two heartbeats while she was pregnant. So I guess that meant she was expecting twins…? But that was the end of it. No further explanation. I’m sure I asked what happened, I just don’t remember her answer. All I remember is my Mom telling me how hard she and Dad tried for sixteen years to have me.

So much of what shapes us happens so early. So much of what I accepted as a child makes little sense to me now. Some things I’ll never know.

But it makes as much sense as any other explanation of why I need to be wanted so much. Literally, self-absorbed behavior. My twin and I fetally competed for resources in a life and death battle. I won. But something inside me needs to be acknowledged so fiercely that it overwhelms the rational socialized parts of my personality. Some vestigial lost aspect still pleads to be fed, to be heard, to be loved… to BE at all.

Plato spoke of the missing half and how love is the name for our pursuit of wholeness.

I wonder, with such an emotional ghost dance, is it too late to re-write my own creation story? Could I love all of me(s)?!