I flipped the television on with the remote control and as the picture came to life, I thought I was seeing double -- triple, actually. Sitting prettily with crossed legs on directors’ chairs were three identical, long-haired, blond women. The show was The Doctors and on this particular episode, it turned out that these triplet sisters were simultaneously pregnant. “How is that even possible?” I wondered.

The women, in the typical television ratings-grabber style, were about to find out if they too would be having multiple babies since they were from families with a history of multiples.

I thought back to being pregnant with our twins and found myself nodding at a dramatic pause in the show where one of the “experts” excitedly said that increased morning sickness could be a sign of twins at least; two of the sisters had reported morning sickness.

My pregnancy wasn’t in any way, shape, or form an “Earth Mother” experience; I wanted to throw a shoe at the television when one women said morning sickness didn’t really exist and that it was all in our heads. Oh yes, I/we were ecstatic about having twins and I talked to them often while they were in my belly, but boy, I couldn’t even brush my teeth without wanting to gag. I was on constant nausea alert.

So here were these triplet sisters anxiously awaiting the news. The producers of the show had wheeled out hospital-type beds, exposed the varying-sized bellies of the pregnant women, and had sonogram machines beside every bed. We would all get to witness these intimate moments when they did! It felt extremely voyeuristic, but I continued to watch—-too caught up in the web of television continuity.

The host continued to breathlessly predict the results; “We have a potential NINE babies here!” The families of the women, including the ubiquitous Dr. Phil who was one of the father-in-laws, waited backstage and only the husbands, who themselves looked remarkably similar, were allowed to stand by their exposed wives.

“We’ll find out after the break!!!” Should I continue watching? I was too wrapped up in the drama to stop now, but I thought back to the early days of our twins, and even with parents helping, those memories come like nightmare images: lack of sleep, constant crying, pain from my surgery, mother-in-law waking me up in the middle of the night after I had finally fallen asleep.

Our popular culture seems to over-romanticize this notion of two or three (or more!) for one pregnancy when in fact multiple pregnancies are always dangerous even for healthy women. We seem to think an instant duo, trio, or baseball team family is something to envy. I can see that perspective somewhat since I think it’s now 1 in 6 couples who will experience infertility and often of the worst kind: the “unexplained” infertility.

Multiple babies or any babies must seem like a godsend, yet I clearly remember during those early post-birth days that if I had had one more child to take care of, I would have lost my mind. My husband and I kept assuring ourselves that at least we only happened to have twins and not more; it could have been worse. We watched a lot of Jon and Kate Plus Eight, pre crash and burn, to make ourselves feel better.

When The Doctors came back on, instead of getting right to the sonograms so that the viewers and I could have our curiosities sated, instead they teased us with scenes to come later in the show. C’mon on already!

The women looked nervous even through their heavy stage make-up and gobs of eyeliner and mascara. The husbands shifted in their places next to the beds and couldn’t seem to decide whether or not they should be holding their wives’ hands as the reveal was about to happen.

The expert Ob/Gyn doctor/host of the show applied the sonogram gel to the probe and moved to the first belly on stage right. She seemed to make a cursory pass over the belly (not at all what I remember about the lengthy and precise movements of our sonogram practioners) and suddenly the enhanced image of a baby inutero showed up on the massive television screen above the stage. They were clearly using the latest visual technology and not the grainy end-of-the-night-television-programming white snow that we had become acquainted with.

The doctor, moving the probe no more than a two-second sweep of the belly, revealed that the first sister, farther along than her siblings, was only having one baby and she was a girl. The audience didn’t know whether this was a good or bad thing and they clapped unevenly. Not so good for the ratings perhaps or for the fanciful images we love to picture of wall to wall cuteness and baby fat.

Then on to the next sister who, just before the too-quick sweep of her belly, revealed that her husband really wanted a boy. Wah wah. A singleton, a girl. Oh my, surely the audience wondered, the last sister, the daughter-in-law of Dr. Phil whose own family had a history of multiples, would be carrying AT LEAST two babies.

Again the doctor did a too-quick sweep of the last sister’s belly and, trying to sound upbeat, announced that this last sister was also only carrying one baby. Perhaps to lessen the disappointment felt by all, the producers quickly switched to the backstage camera where Dr. Phil was theatrically wiping his brow in a mock expression of relief.

The camera switched back to the stage where the sisters and their husbands still held their positions, exposed bellies and all, they were in before. There was a pregnant pause; pun definitely intended; then one of the hosts went back in to full tilt mode and excited told us to stay tuned for we would soon find out the winner of the “Produce a Segment of The Doctors!” contest. I firmly pushed the off button down on my remote and went to my twins who were waking up from their peaceful dreams. I was ready to get back to the production of our lives.