Ever on the phone with a friend and the call waiting beeps, you look at the caller ID and get excited because it’s someone you love? You quickly click over to start chatting and then they deliver some upsetting news…and you get the wind knocked out of you.
That’s how we felt yesterday. We happily bounded up to the perinatologist’s office for my advanced maternal age ultrasound expecting to see our beautiful, healthy baby swimming along in my belly. Then we answered the caller ID.
In a nutshell, the doctor saw some abnormal things going on. It was a blur of “bad implantation of the placenta”, “echogenic bowel” and “measuring more than 2 weeks small”. All in all, we learned that there are three likely explanations for what we witnessed yesterday: a chromosomal abnormality (like Down’s or Trisomy 18), a viral infection or a placenta problem. As I told my family yesterday, those are all crappy explanations if you ask me. Each has it’s own set of very scary risks, fears and complications. At one point, I wanted to look at the doctor and say, “Oh, I think you meant to deliver this news to the Wilson’s, they’re next door. We’re the Whitaker’s.” Then I answered the caller ID.
So, we got all that laid on us in about 10 minutes, the doctor left the room and Scott and I just sat there in disbelief. Quite honestly, I think it was just shock. We left the office, asked the perinatologist to call my OB to explain his findings and we hopped up to Dr. Orth’s office to discuss our options with her. Man, I love her. It was a reminder that God gives you amazing counselors to turn to in difficult times.
After some discussion of our options, we decided to have an amniocentesis. It’s tomorrow morning at 8:30. Folks, I was/am scared out of my wits. I’ve always been anti-testing. I figure it doesn’t matter in the end anyway, because we’re going to take and love this baby for however long God gives him/her to us. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters. But, when we learned that one of the possible scenarios, the viral infection, could be treated in utero and that the baby could start growing again, we opted for the test. Either way, we’ll get some answers. Granted, they may not be what we want to hear, but we’ll be able to deal with the outcome.
So, to reality. We know the options. We’ve been scouring WebMD for some medical answers, I made a few phone calls to some sweet friends and my college roommate who’s an OB. Scott and I chatted last night and gained some more perspective. I was feeling ok, feeling some peace. Then, last night before I went to bed, I turned to the side, looked in the mirror at my little belly and just completely lost it. I guess I knew that was going to come, the reality of it all finally sunk in. I’m betting there will be more tears, but I’m also betting that God and I are going to spend some serious time together.
At first I thought I’d post all this and say, ‘hey, offer up some prayers for good news on the amnio, we’ll keep you posted’ – that’s the selfish part of me. Yesterday taught me something else. I can’t pray that it will all go away. God doesn’t work that way.
Instead, I’m asking you to pray for strength for Scott and I, wisdom for our doctor as he guides that needle into my belly tomorrow morning and for peace with the outcome. Sweet peace. Because this I know. We already have a little life to love. It might be in a different package, under different circumstances than our perfect world envisioned, but it’s life that was fearfully and wonderfully crafted by God himself just for Scott and I and the kids. How awesome is that?