And So We Begin

Twenty-seven days ago, God had a plan. Was I ready for it? I don't think you are ever ready for an experience like this. But I think in many ways He made His plan ready for us. From the first moments, I could see He was watching over me, considering my feelings, making it as easy as it could never be.

I was going for my 11 week ultrasound. A pretty routine check-up on a small placental abruption that no one seemed too concerned about. (If by not too concerned they meant partial bedrest, limited exercise and no lifting! Yeah, try that with a 19 month old.) And still, no one saw it coming. Our miracle baby....as we had a less than 1% chance of getting getting pregnant to begin with. The baby had brought such joy and surprise, not only to us, but to the very surprised and supportive office staff, family and friends that surround us. Ironically, their worries began to fade when we first saw the heartbeat.

From the moment the ultrasound began that Thursday, July 3rd, and my sweet, sweet baby appeared on the screen, my eyes automatically began to search for that little flash, the flicker that means the heart is beating and all the peace that brings. I had seen it before and fully expected to again. The nurse and I talked about why I was alone this time, since I had friends with me at every other ultrasound. We talked about how I was at the hospital 2 days before and was able to watch as my nephew Evan was born. And then I saw where baby's heart should be. I could see it, except it was flashing, it was solid.

Immediately I had that feeling deep down inside. I hoped the ultrasound was on a different setting, the kind that didn't detect bloodflow. When I realized the nurse had stopped talking to me, I knew. We didn't say another word. In the silence, she kept measuring. And typing. Inside I was bursting...say something! You know the moment when a baby is just born and the entire room waits anxiously for that first cry. It was the same feeling, I was waiting anxiously for that familiar line, "And there's the heartbeat...." But it would not come today.

The rest plays out in painfully slow motion. The Dr. comes in and asks a few unimportant questions, as he sits down to take over the ultrasound for himself. All the while I see my little baby in perfect profile. All curled up in the familiar fetal position. Completely still. In my mind I will him to move. Where is the kicking and waving I saw 2 weeks ago? Come on baby, wake up. But he never would. That image is still the one to haunt me to this day. The view inside of our baby, as unnaturally still as a perfectly formed statue. The Dr. finally turned on the audio and instead of the racing gallop of a baby's heart, I heard the most horrible silent swoooshing sound. I spoke first, "There's no heartbeat, is there...."

"I'm afraid not. I think that is what the nurse was trying to show me when I came in. I tried to play it cool, but there is no heartbeat. I'm so sorry."

"Bummer."

All the emotion, the horrible wave that sweeps over you, and all I could say was Bummer.

"Blah, blah, blah. I know you aren't processing this now, but I'd like to talk to you in my office."

I felt strangely numb. I wondered if I would ever cry. My world was instantly changed, shattered in a moment. How is that possible? I made my way to his office. Even grabbed a kleenex, in case I got upset. I didn't. I sat and I waited. And I waited a LONG time. I wondered what could possibly be important enough to keep me waiting, I had just lost my baby! Doesn't that trump everyone else? Alone with my thoughts I sat. I wondered if they were waiting for me to break down before someone came in. I thought about how I would tell Troy, who was out of town and who I was trying to prove a point about something trivial by not calling him that day. I wondered what I would say to my mother-in-law as I drove back to her house to pick up my girls. I thought I am not pregnant anymore.

In comes the Dr. Apparently, another patient wanted to show off their new baby and they didn't want me to get upset. I was annoyed, I didn't want to be the object of their pity. I immediately asked some very practical questions, as in what comes next, what should I expect, what are my options? I got my answers. Got a hug from the Dr. Made my appointment for the next week. And was sent home to digest the news that I was no longer going to have a baby.