Multiples

In recent weeks, my daughter-in-law Becky and I have watched quite a bit of daytime television together. One of Becky and Dan’s favorite shows is Outdaughtered, a reality show featuring a family with quintuplet daughters. The popularity of the show reminds me of how the birth of multiple babies has grabbed the world’s attention for decades.

The Dionne quintuplets, believed to be the first set of quintuplets to survive infancy when they were born outside a Canadian village in 1934, were of great interest to my mother. The quintuplets weighed a total of thirteen pounds, six ounces when delivered by a doctor and two midwives. Wikipedia reports they were wrapped in “cotton sheets and odd napkins,” and their mother, Elzire, went into shock, but recovered in two hours. I’d still be in shock!

The story of Yvonne, Annette, Cécile, Émilie and Marie was chronicled in the newspapers and magazines of the day. Within months, the Canadian government removed the five babies from their home, citing the safety of the children (although it didn’t remove the five older siblings). Kept in a building especially designed for them, they became a tourist attraction (Quintland), where over nine years, an estimated three million people observed them through one-way mirrors. Finally, in 1943, their parents regained custody of the children. A bizarre story, both tragic and fascinating.

Fast forward to 1963, when quintuplets were born in Aberdeen, South Dakota. James Andrew, Mary Magdalene, Mary Margaret, Mary Catherine, and Mary Ann were the first surviving quints born in North America in nearly thirty years. While Andrew and Mary Ann Fischer maintained more privacy than the Dionne family, the children’s pictures often appeared in The Saturday Evening Post, celebrating milestones and chronicling their development.

As the wonders of fertility treatment expanded, Kenneth Jr., Brandon, Nathan, Joe, Alexis, Natalie, and Kelsey entered the world in 1997, born to Bobbi and Kenny McCaughey. The world’s first surviving set of septuplets, their birth made news across the country, and President Bill Clinton phoned the family with his congratulations. Even the surviving Dionne quintuplets added their congratulations, as well as words of warning: “If we emerge momentarily from the privacy we have sought all our adult lives, it is only to send a message to the McCaughey family. We three would like you to know we feel a natural affinity and tenderness for your children . . . Multiple births should not be confused with entertainment, nor should they be an opportunity to sell products.”

When the Gosselin sextuplets were born in 2004, Alexis Faith, Hanna Joy, Leah Hope, Aaden Jonathan, Collin Thomas, and Joel Kevin starred in a new entertainment era. Instead of fiercely protecting their privacy, Jon and Kate Gosselin opened the doors of their home through TLC’s, “Jon & Kate Plus 8.” And now “Outdaughtered!” I’m glad I haven’t seen episode sixteen: “A Little Potty Never Killed Anyone.” TMI!

The gossip magazines in the beauty parlor were off limits when I was a kid, but I kept trying to sneak a glimpse when my mother was under the hairdryer, Now, in the name of research for my column, I’m fascinated by the stories. I get it - the tourist trade of Quintland, the true confessions of the gossip magazines, and the outrageousness of reality television call to the voyeur in us. Our curiosity about how others live, especially in the unique circumstances of multiple births, keeps us watching. 

But we can also benefit from each other’s story. Frederick Buechner writes: “The storyteller’s claim, I believe, is that life has meaning – that the things that happen to people happen not just by accident like leaves being blown off a tree by the wind but that there is order and purpose deep down behind them or inside them and that they are leading us not just anywhere but somewhere.” 

As we receive the stories of others, baby-related or not, the words of the Dionne sisters remind us to approach with tenderness, without demanding to be entertained by the pain, distress, or oddity of their circumstances. And if we listen carefully, we can hear echoes of our own stories, as we embrace the unexpected within the circle of family.