Five of a Kind

Yet being a multiple also means giving up individuality others take for granted, taking turns at a mother's breast and dividing every birthday cake. Single births, after all, set humans apart from many other mammals. Multiples are a departure from that natural order and, even before the rise of fertility drugs, many cultures viewed them as abnormal, even animal. (Mythological twins Romulus and Remus were supposedly suckled by a she-wolf before Romulus killed his brother in a struggle over who would rule Rome.) They "disturb the idea that same and different are in completely separate categories," says Juliana de Nooy, author of Twins in Contemporary Literature and Culture.

Fertility drugs only seem to heighten the sense of messing with Mother Nature. The Pisners had been high-school sweethearts and, when they married in their early 20s, they were just hoping for one baby. After several years of trying to get pregnant, they turned to Pergonal, an injectable medication that stimulates egg production. Fertility treatment was a relative novelty (and an inexact science) back in 1982. But Pam did get pregnant, and her first sonogram, at 11 weeks, showed not one fetus but five. "No, no, it can't be—that's a litter," Pam remembers telling her fertility doctor. "To be honest, at first we didn't know what to do."

The couple was overjoyed that Pam was finally pregnant, but incredibly frightened. Their fertility doctor had never seen a pregnancy larger than triplets, and the health risks, for both mother and babies, were serious. They considered terminating. If selective abortion—reducing the pregnancy to twins or triplets—had been an option in 1982, there's a good chance they would have done it. But after two weeks of deliberation, the Pisners decided to go through with the pregnancy. It was, after all, a version of what they'd been dreaming of for years. "You go along with it—you figure it's meant to be for some reason," says Dan. "And thank God we did. But it wasn't a decision taken lightly."

Sometimes Pam and Dan were stunned by their newfound celebrity. Crowds recognized the Pisners just about anywhere, tipped off by the two double strollers and baby backpack. When Pam took all five to the National Zoo, the crowd's focus quickly shifted from a pair of pandas, newly arrived from China, to her children. ("Do they all have names?" one admirer wanted to know.)

Today the quints are pushing the bounds of individuality further than they ever have before. Two are married (one is expecting a child), another is engaged and two are living with their long-term girlfriends. At Shira's wedding over Memorial Day weekend, the bride finally found herself alone in the spotlight. It was "the first day I've ever had to myself," she says. And last year, at age 25, Elliot had his first solo birthday party; his fiancée, Becky, organized a small dinner without his siblings. "I wasn't used to being the focus of attention during a birthday thing," says Elliot. "But I enjoyed it. It was a little more special."

But if there's a pull to become separate, there's an equal and opposite tug to remain the same, to stay "the quints." While other large multiple families turned down NEWSWEEK for this story, uncomfortable reentering the public eye, the Pisners had no hesitation. Complete strangers still recognize and address them by name. When a photographer directed the quints to line up for a picture, Shira asked if she'd like them arranged in birth order. In another moment, Shira became slightly protective of their quint status. One Saturday morning in April, I tagged along with Shira and Pam as they ran errands for the wedding. Shira introduced me to her hairstylists and explained I was writing a story about her family because they're quints. The stylist seemed interested but not particularly impressed. "Oh, like Octomom or Jon and Kate," she said. "It was much more rare when we were born," Shira told her.

Now that they're no longer such a rarity, perhaps multiples will lose some of their circus-act quality. (It's hard to imagine every family with quadruplets or more landing its own reality show. Until someone manages to have nonuplets, that is.) As with any big family, it's up to beleaguered parents to manage the delicate and difficult balancing act of raising so many kids at once. For the Pisners, being quints is the only reality they've ever known. "It's just how we grew up," says Shira. "We don't know any different." The competing drives of privacy versus publicity, sameness versus individuality, continue to pull at them. But the Pisners seem to have made their peace with their choices. And that's a happy ending the next generation of multiples will be eager to hear.

© 2009