Russia's First IVF Twins Defy Odds After a Lifetime of Loss and Love

"You were the most wanted children in the world." Tatyana had told the girls this since childhood.Photo: Courtesy of the subjects

Twin sisters Daria Avilova and Masha Olkhovich were born in Elektrostal, a town outside Moscow, in 1992. Their lives seemed no different from those of other Russians—they were born, went to school, got an education, and found jobs. Nothing out of the ordinary, it would seem. But as it turned out, Daria and Masha had a story to tell. They were among Russia's first IVF babies, a fact they had known since childhood—and one they never saw as anything but a blessing. Now, the sisters have decided to share their journey to dispel the myths surrounding IVF, particularly the misconception that the procedure is dangerous and that children conceived this way face health problems.

They call their birth their "personal fairy tale"—a story their mother told them again and again as they grew up. Yet more than 30 years later, that "fairy tale" remains shrouded in stigma for much of society.

At the heart of their story is the extraordinary determination of their mother, Tatyana. At 25, after two ectopic pregnancies, she lost both fallopian tubes. Doctors delivered a devastating verdict: she would never have children of her own. This was 1986.

"But Mom told me something incredible," Daria recalls. "'I didn't just believe or hope—I knew I would have children.'"

For two years, Tatyana lived with that unshakable certainty. Then, in a hair salon in Elektrostal, she stumbled upon a scientific article about a groundbreaking new technology: in vitro fertilization. It was like a ray of light. She knew instantly: this was her chance.

Tatyana rushed to Moscow, to the country's only IVF clinic at the time. With no appointment, she fought her way through the long lines of desperate couples from across the Soviet Union, determined to see a specialist.

"A secretary pointed her in the right direction," the sisters explain. "Mom didn't even have spare shoes—she just kicked off her own, ran barefoot down the hall, burst into the office, and there he was, the doctor."

Professor Boris Vasilyevich Leonov looked up at the barefoot woman before him. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I want children.""Right now?""Right now. I know it."

Her conviction won him over. And so began the long, arduous journey—attempt after attempt, years of hormone therapy, hope, and heartbreak.

"After the second failure, Dad said, 'That's enough,'" the sisters recall. "But nothing could stop Mom. Though even she admitted, 'I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to live like this. Sometimes I just want to sleep.'"

By the third attempt, Tatyana had let go of the tension. It was this quieter, steadier resolve that finally brought success. Four embryos were implanted. Three took hold. And so began the story of triplets: Misha, Masha, and Dasha.

At one point, Tatyana was told that one of the embryos was the weakest and was advised to "terminate" it. But she and her husband, Yuri, were unwavering: "We waited so long! We want all of them!" That "weak" embryo turned out to be Masha.

"I am infinitely grateful to my mom and dad for giving me the chance to be here," says Marya, thanking her parents.

But tragedy struck in the eighth month: their son, Misha, died from umbilical cord strangulation. The girls were delivered in an emergency C-section.

"On that day, December 14, my mother gained two children and lost one. It was both immense joy and unbearable grief," Marya recalls.

The surgery was grueling. Tatyana woke up under anesthesia after being given a double dose. The girls were born premature—Marya weighed just 1,750 grams. They faced incubators, months of intensive care, round-the-clock feedings, and sleepless nights. Then, when the twins were three, their father died in a car accident. Tatyana was left alone with two small children.

"Only an overwhelming force of love, a mother's instinct, could carry someone through all of this. It's some kind of mighty power that comes from somewhere unknown," Marya says.

By sharing their story, the sisters hope to support the thousands of women navigating the difficult path of IVF, facing misunderstanding and fear.

"We're not 'different' in any way. We're no different from other children—except for one thing: we were waited for a very long time. To be born as a child into whom so much love, strength, and faith have been poured—that alone is a huge key to happiness," Darya concludes.