Sudden siblings

A woman gives birth to her sister's twins. Next: Miracle No. 3.

By JOHN BARRY, Times Staff Writer
Published December 22, 2007

Surrogate mom Nicole Gee, center, was confined to bed two weeks before giving birth to twin boys of her sister, Adrienne Lugo, right, who is also pregnant. At left is their mother, Adrienne Decker, and Nicole's oldest daughter, Taylor Grace Gee, 10.
	[Melissa Lyttle | Times]

ADVERTISEMENT [Melissa Lyttle | Times] Proud new parents Khris and Adrienne Lugo hold their twin sons, Maximus and Tomas, while friends and family gather in the recovery room to admire the growing family. [Melissa Lyttle | Times] Pregnant with her sister's twin boys, Nicole Gee comforts her middle child, Connor, 8, early this month. Seated is Adrienne Lugo, who after three futile years of in vitro fertilization attempts, got pregnant naturally and is due in April.

TAMPA -- One twin was handed to mother Adrienne, the other to father Khris. Neither new parent could speak. They could only gape at the tiny, pink, squalling baby sons now in their hands, drawing first breaths. Tears streaming, Adrienne and Khris kissed through their masks.

On the operating table lay Adrienne's sister, Nicole. She had just given birth to the twins, her Christmas present to Adrienne.

Adrienne exploded in tears: "I love you, Nicole."

It had taken three years and 13 in vitro cycles. It took the audacity of modern science, the stubbornness of sisters, and something even harder to explain. Adrienne, told she could never conceive, held a twin to her chest, just above her swelling womb. A third baby, an even more impossible baby, is due in April.

* * *

Maximus and Tomas, born Wednesday night at St. Joseph's Women's Hospital, are medically unexplainable.

Soon Adrienne will have three -- her twins carried by Nicole, and one who was a surprise gift of nature, conceived the old fashioned way.

The experience has humbled the doctor who tried to help Adrienne have a baby. "Every effort humanly available was exhausted," said Dr. Stephen Weldon, a 30-year specialist in reproductive medicine. "We had depleted everything."

Said Weldon, "This is God's way of humbling me."

* * *

Adrienne Lugo, 36, had attempted six in vitro fertilization cycles before sister Nicole Gee, 38, joined in. Weldon never could find a reason for one failure after another.

About 90 percent of in vitro pregnancies occur within four tries. The odds get very long after that. Weldon tried to discourage Adrienne from wasting her money. Typically, an in vitro cycle costs about $10,000.

Nicole's three children called Adrienne "Auntie," their second mom. They knew she had a "broken tummy." They were shown pictures of a mama kangaroo with a busted pouch. That was the explanation for why Adrienne couldn't make it through their school plays.

She'd slip out of the auditorium so they wouldn't see her cry. At one preschool celebration, she bolted for the door, bawling and tugging at the door knob. It was locked.

Nicole asked Adrienne to let her help. She wanted to be implanted with Adrienne's fertilized eggs every time her sister was. "It's the best gift I could ever give."

Adrienne hesitated to say yes. Nicole had a demanding family of her own.

The two women and their husbands met for dinner at Fleming's. Both husbands voted yes. That sealed it.

* * *

The sisters' lives have remained entwined through marriages and careers. They talk at least four times a day.

Adrienne married Khris Lugo, a physician's assistant at St. Joseph's, three years ago. She sells oncology drugs for Amgen Inc., a biotechnology company.

Nicole married J.J. Gee, a Tampa childhood friend, 11 years ago. They have two daughters, Taylor, 10, and Connor, 8, and a son, Cannon, 6. She manages the family business, Kilbride Insurance Co.

Adrienne wanted kids as soon as possible, so they would be about the same ages as Nicole's. When Adrienne failed to conceive, "Nicole was the only person I really told my true feelings. I didn't feel like a whole woman."

"You can't fully console someone going through that," Nicole says. "I learned I didn't have to say much. I just had to be there."

* * *

After Adrienne's six in vitro failures, she and Nicole were both implanted three more times -- a total of 12 cycles between the two.

Nicole miscarried on the 12th. She blamed herself. "I felt I couldn't provide for Adrienne."

Adrienne wanted to end it. Weldon thought it best.

"I'd thrown everything at her but the kitchen sink. The guilt made me feel horrible. Ethically, it's my responsibility to be that voice of reason."

On the brink of surrender, the sisters reversed roles: Adrienne, the risk-taker, was begged by Nicole, the cautious sister, to let her gamble on in vitro one last time. Two of Adrienne's embryos were implanted in Nicole.

The sisters prayed for one success. They got two.

When Nicole tested pregnant, they waited eight weeks to tell anyone but husbands and parents. Then they brought a DVD to a family birthday party for Adrienne. It was supposed to be a present from husband Khris. In fact, it was a sonogram revealing two fetuses, two beating hearts.

Everyone screamed.

* * *

Four months later, Adrienne felt nauseated. She hadn't been using birth control. Morning sickness? No. Not possible.

Still, Adrienne happened to have a home pregnancy test left over. She might as well check, without waking Khris.

Minutes later, she tore out of the house, past her sleeping husband. She tracked down Nicole at an office party where they cried, danced and hugged. Nicole was a little hard to wrap arms around.

The sisters invited Dr. Weldon to dinner. He had a forkful of food in his mouth when they sprung the news.

He choked.

* * *

Adrienne's situation has been satisfactorily explained to Nicole's three kids: "God fixed Auntie's tummy."

Adrienne and Khris are still trying to figure out the rest. Basically, they'll be raising triplets. Three babies will be waking them up at night, demanding another bottle, another diaper. They'll all want bedtime stories. They could all be in the same grade at school. People will wonder. How will they explain? Maybe they won't try -- they'll just let people think what they want.

An hour after the births, Adrienne and Khris gave the babies their first bottles, cuddling their twins in the surgical recovery room. Khris held Tomas, 6.5 pounds, Adrienne held Maximus, 4.14 pounds.

In the midst of joyously whispering grandparents, aunts and uncles was one in surgical garb, Dr. Kathleen Kilbride. She had done the Caesarian. A Tampa OB/GYN, Kilbride has delivered nine nieces, nephews and godchildren. She'll deliver No. 10 for Adrienne.

Nicole lay behind a closed green curtain just a few feet away, numb from Caesarian surgery, unseen, unable to join the celebration. Nicole's silent presence, behind the curtain, illuminated and magnified her sacrifice.

Adrienne and Khris still could barely speak as their babies suckled. They continued to gape, almost disbelievingly.

Adrienne recalled what Nicole had cried out at the moment of birth:

"Congratulations, Mommy."

John Barry can be reached at 727-892-2258 or jbarry@sptimes.com.

[Last modified December 22, 2007, 22:33:10]