Twin pregnancies are still quite uncommon, despite a 72% increase in likelihood between 1980 and 2018. Twins are born in about 33 of every 1,000 births.
What are the probabilities of having identical twins? Out of 1,000 births, three to four are identical twins on average. So once more, not very common.
Savannah Combs, age 23, was overjoyed to learn she was expecting twins. She then discovered that they both have Down syndrome, which is also unusual.
Of course, the information was upsetting. Savannah and her husband Justin Ackerman were aware that due of her illness and the state of her children, some people would judge them.
But Savannah finds that to be the same thing that makes them so beautiful.
“It’s very rare what they have, but they’ve been my little gems,” she mentioned.
Savannah, a Middleburg, Florida native, posted videos of her postpartum journey on TikTok with her kids Kennadi Rue and Mckenli Ackerman, and the videos immediately acquired popularity.
Savannah said in one of her videos that she was advised to abort her children because they wouldn’t survive.
She made the choice to keep them and give them a shot.
”Every [prenatal] appointment they were alive was a blessing to me,” Savannah explained.
Her spouse was gone at boot camp when she found out they both had Down syndrome.
When Savannah was admitted to the hospital, she was 29 weeks along with her pregnancy and gave birth to twin daughters. Kennadi Rue and Mckenli Ackerman, identical twin daughters, were born on May 12, 2021.
The twins had to spend a few weeks in the NICU before going home because they were born two months early.
“They’re called mono di twins, meaning that they had their own sacs, but they shared the same placenta, meaning that they were going to be identical,” she said.
“Mo di twins as it is, it’s like very rare. And then you throw Down syndrome on top of it, it’s like one in 2 million.”
They are just like any other youngster, according to Savannah, despite having an uncommon disease.
“They have feelings. They have a beating heart. They know how to talk. They know how to do things you do. They will get there,” she said.
“Like I said, it may be a step behind but they’re going to do it. I’ve learned these kids are feisty little things and happy little things.”Savannah posts wonderful updates on TikTok as each youngster continues to reach their milestones.
“I’m going to let them know that they’re just like us and they’re going to get there as long as they put their minds to it.”
Nevertheless, some people feel compelled to be critical of Savannah and her family. The young mother was forced to respond to some extremely cruel people on social media as a result.
”I wouldn’t want those babies; if mine came out like that, they would be straight up for adoption,” one person wrote to the mother.
Savannah, though, had the ideal response, which she posted on Facebook.
“I said, good thing they weren’t born to you and were born to me. God knew what he was doing by giving these babies to the right parents who would love them regardless.”
She inquired, “What’s the price for the eggs?” The elderly seller responded, “0.25 cents per egg
The old egg seller, his eyes weary and hands trembIing, continued to sell his eggs at a loss. Each day, he watched the sun rise over the same cracked pavement, hoping for a miracle. But the world was indifferent. His small shop, once bustling with life, now echoed emptiness.
The townspeople hurried past him, their footsteps muffled by their own worries. They no longer stopped to chat or inquire about the weather. The old man’s heart sank as he counted the remaining eggs in his baskets. Six left. Just six. The same number that the woman had purchased weeks ago.
He remembered her vividly—the woman with the determined eyes and the crisp dollar bill. She had bargained with him, driving a hard bargain for those six eggs. “$1.25 or I will leave,” she had said, her voice firm. He had agreed, even though it was less than his asking price. Desperation had cIouded his judgment.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The old seller kept his promise, selling those six eggs for $1.25 each time. He watched the seasons change—the leaves turning from green to gold, then falling to the ground like forgotten dreams. His fingers traced the grooves on the wooden crate, worn smooth by years of use.
One bitter morning, he woke to find frost cIinging to the windowpane. The chill seeped through the cracks, settling in his bones. He brewed a weak cup of tea, the steam rising like memories. As he sat on the same wooden crate, he realized that he could no longer afford to keep his small shop open.
The townspeople had moved on, their lives intertwined with busier streets and brighter lights. The old man packed up his remaining eggs, their fragile shells cradled in his weathered hands. He whispered a silent farewell to the empty shop, its walls bearing witness to countless stories—the laughter of children, the haggling of customers, and the quiet moments when he had counted his blessings.
Outside, the world was gray—a canvas waiting for a final stroke. He walked the familiar path, the weight of those six eggs heavier than ever. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement. He reached the edge of town, where the road met the horizon.
And there, under the vast expanse of sky, he made his decision. With tears in his eyes, he gently placed the eggs on the ground. One by one, he cracked them open, releasing their golden yoIks. The wind carried their essence away, a bittersweet offering to the universe.
The old egg seller stood there, his heart as fragile as the shells he had broken. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. And in that quiet moment, he whispered a prayer—for the woman who had bargained with him, for the townspeople who had forgotten, and for himself.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, he turned away from the empty road. His footsteps faded, leaving behind a trail of memories. And somewhere, in the vastness of the universe, six golden yolks danced—a silent requiem for a forgotten dream.
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