When the doctor had told me... "we found something..."

9.4.12

Written on the day of our ultrasound, just hours after coming home. 8/13/12. Part one of the story. Please read every detail carefully as it may be misleading to jump around. It's "something" but it's "nothing." Words that are hard to wrap your head around.

I was contemplating how to start this post. There was never a question as to whether or not I would write it. The question was when would I share this, and how would I go about sharing it. You see, I want to remember every detail of today, even the details that I wish weren't there. Even the details that make me tear up just thinking about it.

From the beginning, we decided we weren't going to share this information with my family. Which in turn meant that I could not share this on my blog as a couple of family members happen to read this. However, after much thought, I realized that this is my diary of our life. A chapter in our lives that I don't want to get lost or forgotten. And hopefully it will mean nothing. I believe it will mean nothing. But doesn't change the fact that it was a part of our day today. A part of our baby. And a part I don't want to just pretend doesn't exist. In fact, I hope I will connect with other women out there going through similar experiences. Whether it be their own, their family's, or their friend's.

We have still not shared this news with my family, and I'm hoping that this post will get lost in the mix. I'm hoping. Not because I don't want them to know. But because I don't want them to worry. But if they do happen to read it? I hope that by the end, they will understand why I didn't share this with them initially, and why it would be so difficult to explain to them... "We found something... but... it doesn't mean anything." How do you put into words... there's something there... but.... there's nothing there.

That is why I felt this, this space of mine, would probably be the best place for them to get the most information, detailed image, and a much more thorough explanation. Because if I tried to put it into words myself, whether in person or over the phone, I may not be able to do it. And my biggest fear is that they wouldn't understand.

My biggest fear writing this now, is that people may not understand. But before I begin, just know that everything is okay. I have been lead to believe that everything is okay. My gut tells me everything is okay. And I have now, finally, felt at ease with everything I was told.

I will throw out words like Down Syndrome, birth defect, abnormalities, but believe me when I say this... I have to use these words to explain what was found. It neither means that our baby has any of these things, nor does it mean that what they found increases our baby's risk of having some sort of chromosomal abnormality. It is, again, the best way to put it... just a part of our story.

I will not know how the story ends, but I do know how it begins.... And it begins with me in the ultrasound room hearing the most beautiful words ever...

"You're having a BOY!"....

We were in a dark room. The same room I had heard "It's a girl" just a little over 2 years ago. In the room was the ultrasound tech, me, my dear husband, and our beautiful baby girl, who repeatedly kept saying "Baby" when the ultrasound tech was taking the wand across my belly. And when she heard the word brother? She smiled from ear to ear... "bruddda"....

Me: "Did she just say what I think she did?"
Andrew: "I think so."

And there I was, completely lost in that moment. I was so lost that I think I stopped paying attention to the ultrasound tech. I would glimpse up and see her going through the anatomy.

The spine looks great. The brain looks great. There's the heart. The kidneys look good. The stomach. The bladder. There are the fingers and toes. The beautiful little fingers and toes. The hands that were so close to the baby's face and wouldn't budge. Those same hands that prevented us from getting a 4D image of our baby boy's face. Those same hands I cannot wait to touch, to kiss, to hold close to my heart.

And then it was over. I thought it was over. And the tech said "From what I can see, everything looks great, but let me go make sure the physician doesn't need me to take any more images."

I've done this before you know. It had been a little over two years since my anatomy scan with Elliana, but I hadn't recalled the tech needing to leave the room to make sure. Then again, this was someone new. Then again, it's been two years Becky. Practices change all the time. Maybe this is protocol now. Maybe she is just a type A personality. Maybe that's just what they do.

Nothing crossed my mind to lead me to believe something was actually wrong. In fact, I was still dumbfounded when she came back to say she needed to do a vaginal ultrasound to check out my placenta to make sure that it wasn't over my cervix.

Okay. I totally understand that.. pretty common.

We did that. All turned out okay. Once again, she said she would be right back but otherwise I could get dressed and I'll be going to my appointment next.

At this point... Elliana was getting worked up. It was early in the morning and she was in an unfamiliar place. She wanted to run and roam and she was beginning to act up. I asked Andrew to take her outside, and as he does I hear the tech saying "Do you want to talk to her about it, or do you want her doctor to talk to her." She was speaking with the radiologist.

My heart sank for a minute. But still. At that moment, I thought maybe the placenta was in fact closer to the cervix.. and that? Well that didn't seem to bother me much as I am pretty familiar with this from literature I had read.

It was when she came back into the room and said that we had to do another ultrasound... except this time over the belly....

And when I asked "Why, because of my placenta?"

She said "No... the baby.

That was when the tears started flowing down my face as I sat in alone in this dark room waiting for the radiologist to come in to do an ultrasound himself. Waiting to find out what was going on. Waiting to find out what they could have possibly found with my baby when just minutes prior she had said "everything looked fine." 

A million thoughts running through my head.

And then the radiologist walks in. A handsome, tall, young man that had some sort of calmness and strength around him that almost instantly put me at ease. He pulled the curtain. Grabbed the box of kleenex. Put his hand on mine and said...

"We found something.... but please don't worry, it's nothing."

part II to come.