May 8th was perhaps the hardest day of my life.
After the phone call the night before, I asked my mom to come sit with me at the anatomy ultrasound. She was running behind because of traffic, and my heart was beating out of control. She made it, though. Thank goodness, she made it.
They called my name and we headed back. I told the tech about my phone call with Dr. Weed, and as I presumed, she had not been updated.
As the ultrasound proceeded, I was told there was a heart beat. He was alive. He was ALIVE! That, to me, was everything. I let my heart and mind ease a bit as she scanned his body on the screen. His little legs and feet were precious. Both of his hands had one finger pointing upwards, as if to say, “I’m number one!” Looking back, I wonder now if he was pointing up to heaven, letting me know he would be okay no matter what.
“Congratulations! You are having a boy,” the tech said. At that moment, I felt calm. Tears of joy flowed down my face because I knew that she wouldn’t have used those words if there was bad news. The blood work, as expected, was wrong. Continue reading
It was around dinnertime and I was struggling to get food ready for the kids before the older one needed to head off to one of her activities. A typical evening in the life of a mom.
The phone rang and it showed a number from a far away area code; a number whose calls I had ignored earlier in the day, as I make a habit of not answering “unknowns” and prefer to wait for a message. For some reason, I made the decision to answer it, even in the midst of being so busy.
It was Dr. Weed, the maternal fetal medicine doctor who had performed one of my earlier ultrasounds, calling from her personal cell phone. That, in and of itself, should have been an indicator for what was to come.
Earlier in my pregnancy, like most expecting mothers, I had was sent to maternal fetal medicine for integrated screening to test my child for risks of genetic disorders. Dr. Weed was calling to give me the results of the second part of the blood work. I remembered when they had called me with the results of the first portion, and feeling scared when they left me a voicemail. No news is good news, right? So getting a phone call threw me off guard. When I called back, I was told that first set of blood work looked good and it corresponded well with the ultrasound, which showed what seemed to be a healthy, growing baby.
When I answered, Dr. Weed explained that she was calling to give me the second set of results. I told her that I had my 20-week ultrasound the very next day, and that I planned to pull my older daughter, who is nine, out of school so she could find out the gender with me. I wanted it to be a special day for the two of us.
She stopped me mid-conversation and warned me that the second portion of the blood work brought up some concerns. Continue reading