Conjoined twins who changed their family in 28 minutes

Conjoined twin sisters Marie and Espérance, born in Paris on November 22, 2011, shared a single heart. Despite the grave diagnosis and pressure from doctors, their parents, Geoffroy and Hélène Daquin, chose to carry the pregnancy to term. They spoke to Aleteia about how the brief but intense 28-minute lives of their babies left an indelible mark on their family, and well beyond.

The birth of conjoined twins is extremely rare worldwide, occurring once in every 50,000 to 100,000 births. These children are born fused together at a part of the body. This exceptionally rare condition can sometimes cause the twins to share organs, making their birth and survival incredibly fragile.

It was amidst this rarity and risk that the lives of Marie and Espérance began, united by one single heart.

Married in 2002, Geoffroy and Hélène Daquin quickly had four children: Victoire in 2003, Clément in 2005, Blanche in 2007, and Alexis in 2008.

“We wanted to have a large family. When I found out I was pregnant with a fifth child, I was very happy,” Hélène told Aleteia.

She soon felt she was carrying twins because, as she explained, “all my symptoms were multiplied by two.” Her intuition was confirmed during her first ultrasound. But her joy was immediately tinged with sorrow when the doctor announced that the babies shared a single heart.

“He told me they were conjoined babies. I’m a nurse, so I immediately understood,” Hélène explained.

The medical team quickly suggested ending the pregnancy, on the grounds that the babies wouldn't survive. Although they were devastated, Geoffroy and Hélène believe that every life is sacred. They stood their ground, resisting the pressure from some of the medical staff.

“They explained to us that my life was also at risk, and that since the babies’ chests were conjoined, they wouldn’t be able to be delivered anyway,” she added. Guided by her faith and courage, Hélène resolutely faced the pressure, even though she admitted she wasn't ready to die and leave behind four young children.

“One of my sisters, Colombe, who worked at the Jérôme Lejeune Foundation, put me in touch with a doctor there. He was reassuring and suggested I take my time. I also reached out to the Sainte Félicité maternity hospital in Paris, where the Little Sisters of the Catholic Maternity Wards brought me a lot of comfort. A gynecologist there even offered to follow my pregnancy,” Hélène explained.

Meanwhile, her family and friends started a novena to Our Lady of Guadalupe. On the ninth day of the novena, the couple met with a specialist at Necker Hospital in Paris. He was more nuanced than his colleagues. Respecting Geoffroy and Hélène’s decision to keep the babies, he offered to perform a cesarean section at 32 weeks to spare Hélène from a high risk of hemorrhaging.

“From that moment on, I felt an incredible serenity!” Hélène exclaimed, adding that her baby bump — which had been invisible up to that point — suddenly began to show. “I wanted to carry and protect them to the very end, in utero. I could feel them moving. They were very much alive inside me, and those movements were precious.”

This peace of heart was nourished by little winks from God. Hélène traveled to Paray-le-Monial, a major pilgrimage site in eastern France, to receive the sacrament of the anointing of the sick.

During a period of Eucharistic adoration in a large outdoor tent, where more than 2,000 pilgrims were praying on their knees, a priest walked through the crowd carrying the Blessed Sacrament.

“I was praying with my eyes closed when suddenly I noticed a presence above me. It was the priest right there, blessing me with the monstrance,” Hélène recalled. “I remember at that moment hearing words of surrender resonate within me: ‘Abandon yourself, my child. I am here with you.’ I told the Lord: ‘You gave me these babies as a gift, and I abandon myself to you. I trust you, help me follow your will to the end.’”

At the same time, the couple decided to explain the situation to their other children. “We spoke to them, using simple and truthful words.”

The couple was used to discovering the sex of their children on the day of their birth. But this time, they chose to find out early so they could pick their names. Their two little girls would be called Marie and Espérance (Mary and Hope). “It felt so obvious to us,” Hélène explained.

Their delivery date also carried deep symbolism: the 22nd day of the 11th month of the year 2011. It was fitting for twin sisters. The day before her C-section, Hélène was very calm.

“We were surprised to discover that one of our midwives was actually the sister of a friend of Geoffroy’s. I knew the Lord was truly present with us.”

On the big day, around 20 people gathered in the operating room. The surgery was recorded, while the couple quietly prayed the Rosary. At 2:32 p.m., the babies emerged.

“The pediatrician gently placed them on my chest, carefully monitoring their faint heartbeat,” Hélène noted.

A chaplain was already on hand. He quickly baptized the girls and gave them the sacrament of confirmation.

“Their heart stopped beating at 3:00 p.m. They lived for 28 minutes,” Hélène pointed out, noting a profound sense of fulfillment. “The Lord entrusted these little lives to us, and we went through it together to the very end.”

Marie and Espérance were born in each other's arms, and that’s exactly how they entered heaven. Before the pediatrician and a midwife prepared the girls and moved them to a room next to Hélène’s, Geoffroy had time to hold his daughters in his arms one last time.

The couple's courage and faith quickly echoed throughout the hospital that day. “The surgeon who operated on me came to see me the next day to tell me that we’d made the right choice. He said he was deeply moved by what he saw,” Hélène explained.

Then came the anesthesiologist, the Little Sisters of the Catholic Maternity Wards, and the doctor from the Jérôme Lejeune Foundation. They all expressed their deep admiration.

Hélène described her daughters' funeral not as an earthly burial, but as an entrance into heaven, noting that the ceremony went beautifully.

“There was a very beautiful rite of light, in the presence of our children. We placed a baptismal gown on their little coffin. It was a moment of great intensity,” Hélène explained.

She pointed out that the most painful moment was the actual burial in the family plot in Annecy, a town in southeastern France. “It was pouring rain, a driving rain... as if to hide my tears. It was the physical, human separation.”

As the fifth and sixth of nine siblings, Marie and Espérance are an integral part of the Daquin family.

“We put their photos up in the house. We pray to them every day and ask for their intercession. Every November 22, we bake a cake to celebrate their birthday in heaven. Those two little lives remain unique, irreplaceable, and forever written into our history,” Hélène explained.

She added that even though Marie and Espérance only lived for 28 minutes outside the womb after 32 weeks in utero, they brought an incredible fruitfulness to their family.

“In such a short time, they transformed our lives. Their time here was brief, but their impact is immense.”

The couple didn't think they’d have more children after this delivery. Doctors feared Hélène’s C-section scar wouldn't safely support another pregnancy. However, they eventually welcomed three more children: Jean in 2013, Pia in 2016, and Maguelone in 2018.

Hélène firmly believes that the value of a life isn't measured in years, days, or minutes, but by the love it brings into the world. She wants her daughters’ story to be known to “help others and prevent lifelong heartbreak.”

“I often use the image of a family photo album: tearing out a page doesn't erase what was experienced. We can't pretend that this page never existed. It’s part of our history, just as Marie and Espérance are fully part of our family. They are invisible to the eyes, but very much alive in our hearts.”