From my youngest days I always knew I'd had a twin. I knew it was a male and I called him Michael.

I was born full term, but only weighed 5 pounds. I have spastic cerebral palsy and fetal alcohol spectrum disorder. I was the third pregnancy for my birth mom, but the first to survive birth.

My birth father died several months before I was born and my heroic mother made the decision to give me up for adoption so I could have a better life.

I am 30 years old now. From the time I was 8 years old I would have dreams of myself and my twin, floating in a warm pink womb, kicking and playing together.

I never felt like a whole person. There was always someone missing. At first I believed this was due to my being adopted, but even after I met my birth mom several years ago, the feeling persisted.

The only time I have ever felt like a whole person was during my own pregnancy which resulted in the birth of my daughter, Aaren. Sadly, my daughter was stolen from me by my adoptive parents.

I knew I'd had a twin at some point, otherwise why was I having these feelings? Why was somebody always missing? Why did I dream of Michael?

My birth mom did not believe me when I suggested to her that I had been one of two. The most vivid dreams I continue to have, my brother and I are kicking each other, we are playing with our umbilical cords. We are laughing.

I have always been fascinated with twins, conjoined twins especially, even though Michael and I were dizygotic (developed from two fertilized ova, as fraternal twins).

I now believe that Michael died in utero at the end of the first trimester, around 11 or 12 weeks. He was reabsorbed and that is why there was no evidence of his existence. I remember him though and I yearn for him.

I have written poems in his honor. I have learned that I am not the only womb twin survivor to remember their mate. I miss him. His name is Michael Eugene Holt. The more I tell the world about his tiny life, the better I feel.

Quinn Pender

Tillamook, OR