It's the Second Sunday of Advent. My goodness... time is flying! This is the Sunday of Peace and although I have known this for years this is the first time peace has been such a profound theme in my life.
I am at peace.
I recently experienced a great loss. My unborn daughter died inside me four weeks ago tomorrow. My heart still hurts when I think about it. But it's hard to explain my feelings. I feel deep sadness over the loss and simultaneously pure joy over the gift of Anna Marie. She was my greatest blessing and I will forever be thankful for the opportunity to be her mother. I would love to hold her in my arms again, but the images in my mind of her in the arms her her Heavenly Mother warm my heart. Words just are not adequate... I can't explain it.
People that don't know me well enough have been tip-toeing around the elephant in the room. They treat me like I am damaged and that I might fall apart at the mention of my loss. I'm not though. I'm at peace. Happy even. And hopeful for what God has planned for our future. Like maybe more children! I hope so. Not that any child will ever "replace" Anna. I will always carry her with me in my heart. But this whole experience has affirmed my vocation to motherhood.
So this is what it is to be at peace. It doesn't mean that I am always smiling and happy-go-lucky and that things in life are just so perfect. It's not. I'm human. But my peace comes from my faith and trust in God's will and my hope that He will carry me through. I have no worries and I have no regrets.
"Be still and know that I am God."
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Anna Marie
This is a little past due but if you are expecting a coherent update you will be very disappointment. This is going to be a jumbled mess of a post.
On 11/11/13 I went to work. I prayed on my drive there like I have done for the last 2 months. I prayed that I would feel her move and that it would be a sign, a sort of reassurance that she was ok. That's how I felt about every movement. I called for the intercession of the Saints and spoke most directly to the most perfect Mother. I just thought she would understand how I was feeling.
I didn't feel her for most of the morning, but I often don't pay much attention when I'm that busy at work. Then, I felt it. that fluttering. It was the most undeniably movement I had felt thus far, it was strong. And I prayed a silent "thank you" to God for that sign. I could now relax, and breathe and feel good about my OB appointment that afternoon. I was actually anticipating it. Every appointment felt like a milestone to me.
I was going to go by myself but Patrick realized he was going to be off work in time for my 4:15 appointment. It's nice when he can make it. Driving to the doctor I realized that in the business of my day I had not felt her move anymore. Not since I felt that very obvious fluttering earlier in the day. Moments later I felt a pain. It was really more like a cramp but it was sharp. It lasted a few seconds and then nothing. I brushed it off. It was easy to convince myself that everything was going to be fine... "I felt her move today."
Every time I go to the Dr, no matter how early or late I am, I end up waiting a good 30 minutes. No one seems to be in a hurry in that office. But I always am. We are a very special kind of nervous first time parents.
The Dr finally came in and asked how we were doing with everything, and if I had been feeling a lot of movement which I proudly said I had. She asked if we had talked about names, and we told her we had. We were going to name her Anna Marie. She asked when my next Perinatal appointment was and if they had talked about Genetic Counseling for us given the diagnosis of Turner Syndrome. It was a nice talk, really, and probably the most positive feeling one we had had in a while. I think Patrick and I were just finally feeling confident about everything. And I felt like a proud mother... we were beating the odds!
She got the doppler out and we listened closely.
Nothing.
After several minutes of nervous searching she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I'm not finding a heartbeat." She left the room to grab the portable ultrasound and I didn't shed a tear. "This isn't happening. This can't happen," I said to myself. And I told Patrick that I didn't think she was very good at finding the heartbeat anyways... which was a lie. Plus I had felt her move THAT MORNING. I was trying to stay positive. But we both knew. And she confirmed it with the ultrasound. Anna was very still and there was no movement anymore, not even in the place where I could always see her little heart pumping.
In that very moment my heart broke. There are not words to describe the feeling. The pain. The utter sadness that I felt. I tried to be strong in front of the doctor but eventually I couldn't do it anymore. She left the room to give us a few minutes alone. Patrick and I held on to each other for a long time and cried. I don't even know what was said between us. It was a long time but somehow it just feels like a blur.
On 11/12/13, my mom flew in to Wichita. Thank God for that. I knew I needed her I just didn't know how much.
On 11/13/13 at 5 AM I was admitted to the hospital to deliver our baby girl. I was going to be strong. I was going to be induced and I was going to hold it together and I would have this baby in probably the next 10-12 hrs. I thought...
I didn't feel my first contraction until about noon. It was not painful, just a little uncomfortable. by 2 PM I was exhausted and just ready for it to be over. By 5 PM, 12 hours after admission.... still no baby and honestly not much pain.
Labor happened just like it always does so I won't give you a play by play. But I will tell you, it was hard and I did feel pain. And at one point I thought, "If I was having a live baby this might be worth it." But then I pushed that thought aside. She was worth it.
On 11/14/13, with no doctor in the room and no nurse at my side, I had Anna Marie at 0621 AM. It happened really fast (when sounds funny since it took over 24 hrs for her to arrive) so my mom didn't get to leave the room like we originally planned. My mom and Patrick were on either side of me holding my hands through the hardest part and I thank God they were there.
My mom left the room and Patrick and I held our little girl. We cried and hugged and kissed and stared at her beautiful face. She had Patrick's nose and my eyes. Even though her poor little body wasn't "perfect" because of her condition, she was so perfect to me. She was so sweet. I could have stared at her all day. And if she had been alive I could have stared at her all day every day. I wish that had been the case....
Our parents came in and joined us and they took turns holding her but I held her the most. I knew our time with her was limited. The funeral home would be coming to pick her up. I knew logically we could not take her home but I wanted to. I knew logically we could not stay at the hospital with her but I wanted to. I knew she wasn't alive but holding her felt so good and so right and I didn't want it to end.
After about 6 hrs, the funeral home came to pick her up. They came and got her from our hospital room. I refused to let them take her to Pathology to lay on a cold table by herself. I didn't care if she wasn't alive. I didn't want her to be by herself. And I didn't care how irrational I sounded saying that either... so they made an exception.
Handing her to the gentleman from the funeral home broke my heart all over again. That was the last moment I would ever look at my first little baby girl, my sweet little Anna. That was it. It was very anticlimactic. Very final. And it hurt my heart. I have never felt sadness like that.
The funeral was two days later. It was a small gravesite service attending only by my mom, sister, in-laws, our two best friends, Patrick and me. It went too fast. And when it ended I felt that same feeling of finality. And my heart hurt again.
It has been three weeks now. I have been back to work for a while now. Everyone asks how I'm doing and I just say, "I'm ok." I don't really know how to answer that. It never seemed like such a complex question before. The thing is, I'd be lying if I said I'm great but really.... I'm not falling apart. I'm ok.
The reason I'm not wallowing in sadness (which I think would be perfectly acceptable for anyone who has lost a child by the way) is because I'm not afraid. I was afraid that Anna's life would mean nothing because she didn't really get to live. I was worried she would suffer and feel pain. I was never worried about me. I was always afraid for her and how her condition would affect her life. But the thing is, her life meant the world. She WAS important and she WAS a part of the Big Plan. People believed and prayed and showed love because of Anna. Anna made me talk to God in a way that I didn't know I could. She made me love her and Patrick in ways I never knew I could. She was everything to me and because of her I will never be the same.
Let me be clear... I cry all the time. I cried typing this because it felt like I was reliving it. I'm sad, really I am. I miss her. I miss carrying her around with me and feeling her move inside me. I wish she was still here. But I have no regrets about any of it. I would not do anything differently. I wouldn't trade those 6 hours of holding her for anything in the world. I will never forget it. Those were precious moments and I will always look back on this as a special memory... a very happy and very sad memory. And I will always love my little girl.
Thank you for your prayers. We all have another angel to watch over us now.
On 11/11/13 I went to work. I prayed on my drive there like I have done for the last 2 months. I prayed that I would feel her move and that it would be a sign, a sort of reassurance that she was ok. That's how I felt about every movement. I called for the intercession of the Saints and spoke most directly to the most perfect Mother. I just thought she would understand how I was feeling.
I didn't feel her for most of the morning, but I often don't pay much attention when I'm that busy at work. Then, I felt it. that fluttering. It was the most undeniably movement I had felt thus far, it was strong. And I prayed a silent "thank you" to God for that sign. I could now relax, and breathe and feel good about my OB appointment that afternoon. I was actually anticipating it. Every appointment felt like a milestone to me.
I was going to go by myself but Patrick realized he was going to be off work in time for my 4:15 appointment. It's nice when he can make it. Driving to the doctor I realized that in the business of my day I had not felt her move anymore. Not since I felt that very obvious fluttering earlier in the day. Moments later I felt a pain. It was really more like a cramp but it was sharp. It lasted a few seconds and then nothing. I brushed it off. It was easy to convince myself that everything was going to be fine... "I felt her move today."
Every time I go to the Dr, no matter how early or late I am, I end up waiting a good 30 minutes. No one seems to be in a hurry in that office. But I always am. We are a very special kind of nervous first time parents.
The Dr finally came in and asked how we were doing with everything, and if I had been feeling a lot of movement which I proudly said I had. She asked if we had talked about names, and we told her we had. We were going to name her Anna Marie. She asked when my next Perinatal appointment was and if they had talked about Genetic Counseling for us given the diagnosis of Turner Syndrome. It was a nice talk, really, and probably the most positive feeling one we had had in a while. I think Patrick and I were just finally feeling confident about everything. And I felt like a proud mother... we were beating the odds!
She got the doppler out and we listened closely.
Nothing.
After several minutes of nervous searching she looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I'm not finding a heartbeat." She left the room to grab the portable ultrasound and I didn't shed a tear. "This isn't happening. This can't happen," I said to myself. And I told Patrick that I didn't think she was very good at finding the heartbeat anyways... which was a lie. Plus I had felt her move THAT MORNING. I was trying to stay positive. But we both knew. And she confirmed it with the ultrasound. Anna was very still and there was no movement anymore, not even in the place where I could always see her little heart pumping.
In that very moment my heart broke. There are not words to describe the feeling. The pain. The utter sadness that I felt. I tried to be strong in front of the doctor but eventually I couldn't do it anymore. She left the room to give us a few minutes alone. Patrick and I held on to each other for a long time and cried. I don't even know what was said between us. It was a long time but somehow it just feels like a blur.
On 11/12/13, my mom flew in to Wichita. Thank God for that. I knew I needed her I just didn't know how much.
On 11/13/13 at 5 AM I was admitted to the hospital to deliver our baby girl. I was going to be strong. I was going to be induced and I was going to hold it together and I would have this baby in probably the next 10-12 hrs. I thought...
I didn't feel my first contraction until about noon. It was not painful, just a little uncomfortable. by 2 PM I was exhausted and just ready for it to be over. By 5 PM, 12 hours after admission.... still no baby and honestly not much pain.
Labor happened just like it always does so I won't give you a play by play. But I will tell you, it was hard and I did feel pain. And at one point I thought, "If I was having a live baby this might be worth it." But then I pushed that thought aside. She was worth it.
On 11/14/13, with no doctor in the room and no nurse at my side, I had Anna Marie at 0621 AM. It happened really fast (when sounds funny since it took over 24 hrs for her to arrive) so my mom didn't get to leave the room like we originally planned. My mom and Patrick were on either side of me holding my hands through the hardest part and I thank God they were there.
My mom left the room and Patrick and I held our little girl. We cried and hugged and kissed and stared at her beautiful face. She had Patrick's nose and my eyes. Even though her poor little body wasn't "perfect" because of her condition, she was so perfect to me. She was so sweet. I could have stared at her all day. And if she had been alive I could have stared at her all day every day. I wish that had been the case....
Our parents came in and joined us and they took turns holding her but I held her the most. I knew our time with her was limited. The funeral home would be coming to pick her up. I knew logically we could not take her home but I wanted to. I knew logically we could not stay at the hospital with her but I wanted to. I knew she wasn't alive but holding her felt so good and so right and I didn't want it to end.
After about 6 hrs, the funeral home came to pick her up. They came and got her from our hospital room. I refused to let them take her to Pathology to lay on a cold table by herself. I didn't care if she wasn't alive. I didn't want her to be by herself. And I didn't care how irrational I sounded saying that either... so they made an exception.
Handing her to the gentleman from the funeral home broke my heart all over again. That was the last moment I would ever look at my first little baby girl, my sweet little Anna. That was it. It was very anticlimactic. Very final. And it hurt my heart. I have never felt sadness like that.
The funeral was two days later. It was a small gravesite service attending only by my mom, sister, in-laws, our two best friends, Patrick and me. It went too fast. And when it ended I felt that same feeling of finality. And my heart hurt again.
It has been three weeks now. I have been back to work for a while now. Everyone asks how I'm doing and I just say, "I'm ok." I don't really know how to answer that. It never seemed like such a complex question before. The thing is, I'd be lying if I said I'm great but really.... I'm not falling apart. I'm ok.
The reason I'm not wallowing in sadness (which I think would be perfectly acceptable for anyone who has lost a child by the way) is because I'm not afraid. I was afraid that Anna's life would mean nothing because she didn't really get to live. I was worried she would suffer and feel pain. I was never worried about me. I was always afraid for her and how her condition would affect her life. But the thing is, her life meant the world. She WAS important and she WAS a part of the Big Plan. People believed and prayed and showed love because of Anna. Anna made me talk to God in a way that I didn't know I could. She made me love her and Patrick in ways I never knew I could. She was everything to me and because of her I will never be the same.
Let me be clear... I cry all the time. I cried typing this because it felt like I was reliving it. I'm sad, really I am. I miss her. I miss carrying her around with me and feeling her move inside me. I wish she was still here. But I have no regrets about any of it. I would not do anything differently. I wouldn't trade those 6 hours of holding her for anything in the world. I will never forget it. Those were precious moments and I will always look back on this as a special memory... a very happy and very sad memory. And I will always love my little girl.
Thank you for your prayers. We all have another angel to watch over us now.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
The Diagnosis
After the Amniocentesis on Oct. 25th the Perinatal office told me it would probably be at least 2 weeks before the results would be available. I was going to have to be patient, and I was. So much so that I was not expecting that phone call yesterday.
My amazing doctor was still in Hawaii so one of his partners called me. "It's Turner Syndrome," she said. I wrote it down on a piece of scratch paper as if I didn't know what it was. But I know. She asked me if I wanted to come in with my husband before my next appointment for genetic counseling and I told her I would call her back after talking to Patrick. I wrote down her name, too, as if I wouldn't remember it in my head for the rest of my life.
Click. I set my cell phone down and sat at my desk at work and let the tears come. I couldn't even tell what the tears were.... happy? sad? shocked? relieved? It was all of them though.
More than anything I was relieved and happy which is very confusing when you get a diagnosis like that for your unborn child. I should be more shocked. I should be more sad. These are the feelings that should be taking me over. But they aren't.
I knew what the possible diagnoses were when I decided to do the Amniocentesis. The most likely culprits based on Baby Girl's condition were Edward Syndrome, Down Syndrome, and Turner Syndrome. Everyone pretty much knows what Downs is but most people are less familiar with the others. Edwards babies (if they even make it to birth) typically only live for days at the most and have lots of physical and neurological defects. Turner's babies (again, if they make it to birth) typically have an excellent outcome. While no child is exactly the same they normally grow up to live very successful and happy lives with minimal neurological defects is any. They are known to be shorter in stature with a short webbed neck (from the cystic hygroma shrinking... its just leftover skin), and they are also infertile and can have congenital heart problems.
While deep down I was hoping it was nothing and we could just go back to hoping these abnormalities would resolve on their own, you can probably understand my relief that it was not Edwards or Downs. I feel like in a weird way this is the best news we have gotten since this all started a month ago. I'm happy that our little girl might have a normal life.
Unfortunately, this diagnosis does not help her odds right now. According to everything I'm reading, 99% of babies conceived with Turner Syndrome are either miscarried or stillborn. We are trying not to focus on the statistics and in fact my doctor is very anti-stats. But it's still hard. Everyday is scary. And everyday is a blessing.
A blessing. That is exactly what all of this is. This is our child. This is our little girl. No diagnosis, no abnormality, no difficulty we endure will change how much I love her. I have never known a love like this. It captivates your heart. She's my baby girl.
My amazing doctor was still in Hawaii so one of his partners called me. "It's Turner Syndrome," she said. I wrote it down on a piece of scratch paper as if I didn't know what it was. But I know. She asked me if I wanted to come in with my husband before my next appointment for genetic counseling and I told her I would call her back after talking to Patrick. I wrote down her name, too, as if I wouldn't remember it in my head for the rest of my life.
Click. I set my cell phone down and sat at my desk at work and let the tears come. I couldn't even tell what the tears were.... happy? sad? shocked? relieved? It was all of them though.
More than anything I was relieved and happy which is very confusing when you get a diagnosis like that for your unborn child. I should be more shocked. I should be more sad. These are the feelings that should be taking me over. But they aren't.
I knew what the possible diagnoses were when I decided to do the Amniocentesis. The most likely culprits based on Baby Girl's condition were Edward Syndrome, Down Syndrome, and Turner Syndrome. Everyone pretty much knows what Downs is but most people are less familiar with the others. Edwards babies (if they even make it to birth) typically only live for days at the most and have lots of physical and neurological defects. Turner's babies (again, if they make it to birth) typically have an excellent outcome. While no child is exactly the same they normally grow up to live very successful and happy lives with minimal neurological defects is any. They are known to be shorter in stature with a short webbed neck (from the cystic hygroma shrinking... its just leftover skin), and they are also infertile and can have congenital heart problems.
While deep down I was hoping it was nothing and we could just go back to hoping these abnormalities would resolve on their own, you can probably understand my relief that it was not Edwards or Downs. I feel like in a weird way this is the best news we have gotten since this all started a month ago. I'm happy that our little girl might have a normal life.
Unfortunately, this diagnosis does not help her odds right now. According to everything I'm reading, 99% of babies conceived with Turner Syndrome are either miscarried or stillborn. We are trying not to focus on the statistics and in fact my doctor is very anti-stats. But it's still hard. Everyday is scary. And everyday is a blessing.
A blessing. That is exactly what all of this is. This is our child. This is our little girl. No diagnosis, no abnormality, no difficulty we endure will change how much I love her. I have never known a love like this. It captivates your heart. She's my baby girl.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Update on Baby Gorman
I had my second Perinatal appointment today. I have been staying pretty positive up until a few days ago. I just feel like I have to mentally prepare myself for the worst. I know that sounds awful but I'm honestly just trying to find the balance between being optimistic and being realistic.
I don't think I slept much last night. I think I must have slept on and off though because I don't remember turning my alarm off and I woke up in a panic when Patrick woke me up 30 minutes after I was planning on waking up. We hurried around and finally scrambled out the door to our separate cars.
I got to the hospital before him and waited in the lobby, continuing my litany of prayers to my go-to Saints. We were both quiet, obviously with a lot on our minds. As the elevator doors opened on the 6th floor Patrick just said, "I love you." And we walked down the hall to the office.
The Dr got started with the ultrasound and just seconds after the transducer hit my belly he said, "We have a heart beat!" Immediate relief came over me. The cystic hygroma and hydrops are still present with really no improvement but Baby seems to be handling it well so far! We looked at the heart valves and chambers and saw the widely patent pulmonary artery. We looked at the kidneys and stomach and saw the little arms and legs and hands and feet. All of which appeared to be normal. There was no clubbing or cleft lip/palate.
We were both so happy to hear all of that. Of course, the best case scenario would be complete reversal of the cystic hygroma and fluid build up but this is still positive news... and we are good with that!
We went ahead and did an amniocentesis which I would not recommend to the average pregnant lady. It hurt. And I had a hard time keeping my abdominal muscles relaxed. And that needle was in there a long time because they had a hard time penetrating the membrane. Awesome. It was quick once they got it to go through though. Thank goodness.
So now we wait again. I can expect to hear back with amniocentesis results in about 2 weeks and then another Perinatal appointment in 3 weeks. And while I wish Patrick could be at that appointment with me I am SO happy that it will be when my mom is in town!
Keep those prayers coming! My friends these days include Saint Gerard, Saint Jude, Saint Joseph, Ven. Fulton Sheen, Bl. John Paul II, Saint Anne, and Mother Mary... obviously. I appreciate all the love and support of my friends and family. This is such a difficult time and honestly not something I ever dreamed we would be dealing with but I am so thankful there are people around us to keep us positive and prayerful and hopeful.
I don't think I slept much last night. I think I must have slept on and off though because I don't remember turning my alarm off and I woke up in a panic when Patrick woke me up 30 minutes after I was planning on waking up. We hurried around and finally scrambled out the door to our separate cars.
I got to the hospital before him and waited in the lobby, continuing my litany of prayers to my go-to Saints. We were both quiet, obviously with a lot on our minds. As the elevator doors opened on the 6th floor Patrick just said, "I love you." And we walked down the hall to the office.
The Dr got started with the ultrasound and just seconds after the transducer hit my belly he said, "We have a heart beat!" Immediate relief came over me. The cystic hygroma and hydrops are still present with really no improvement but Baby seems to be handling it well so far! We looked at the heart valves and chambers and saw the widely patent pulmonary artery. We looked at the kidneys and stomach and saw the little arms and legs and hands and feet. All of which appeared to be normal. There was no clubbing or cleft lip/palate.
We were both so happy to hear all of that. Of course, the best case scenario would be complete reversal of the cystic hygroma and fluid build up but this is still positive news... and we are good with that!
We went ahead and did an amniocentesis which I would not recommend to the average pregnant lady. It hurt. And I had a hard time keeping my abdominal muscles relaxed. And that needle was in there a long time because they had a hard time penetrating the membrane. Awesome. It was quick once they got it to go through though. Thank goodness.
So now we wait again. I can expect to hear back with amniocentesis results in about 2 weeks and then another Perinatal appointment in 3 weeks. And while I wish Patrick could be at that appointment with me I am SO happy that it will be when my mom is in town!
Keep those prayers coming! My friends these days include Saint Gerard, Saint Jude, Saint Joseph, Ven. Fulton Sheen, Bl. John Paul II, Saint Anne, and Mother Mary... obviously. I appreciate all the love and support of my friends and family. This is such a difficult time and honestly not something I ever dreamed we would be dealing with but I am so thankful there are people around us to keep us positive and prayerful and hopeful.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
150...
That is how many beats our little baby's heart is beating per minute.... it's still beating.
This feels like such a huge victory to me!
This is the first time in my life I have felt like a proud mother. Then, I realized I AM a proud mother! I am so proud of our little baby for fighting. Keep those prayers coming, ya'll!
This feels like such a huge victory to me!
This is the first time in my life I have felt like a proud mother. Then, I realized I AM a proud mother! I am so proud of our little baby for fighting. Keep those prayers coming, ya'll!
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Our Sweet Little Baby
I recently caught you up on all the excitement and joy that has been my life over the last several months. The absolute, hands-down, undeniably best part of everything has been the excitement and anticipation of new life, our first child. I have been wanting to write down all about my pregnancy thus far and what it was like when we first found out but now I don't know where to start...
Our child has been loved before we even knew it was inside me. Days before I took a pregnancy test I was fairly certain it would be positive and I fell in love. Love is a funny thing and it never ceases to amaze me. I have never been a mother before but somehow I feel that bond that can only be felt between a mother and her child.
Patrick was elated. I have never seen him so happy. He had one of those "Oh my God, is this really happening?" moments, but in a good way. There are really no words to describe those feelings. I remember every detail of that night we found out that we were going to be parents.
Up until a few days ago, it had been a relatively uneventful pregnancy. No morning sickness, very rare nausea and food aversions. I ate well and exercised semi-regularly and about a month ago I finally started to see the change in my body. I thought I would hate seeing my body change but it was a welcome change. It meant my baby was REALLY in there and growing big and strong. I was just thinking the other day... Man, pregnancy has been a piece of cake!
But it can't all be good. Something told me that something wasn't right. It was having symptoms of any kind at all. I just had this gut feeling. I'm a pretty intuitive person, more than most people I've realized. So when the feeling didn't go away I had to take matters into my own hands. I, a very flexible and not at all demanding woman, demanded an ultrasound.
After a lot of reluctance from my OB they got me scheduled for that day (this last Tuesday). I made quick plans for someone to cover for me a work and I left to get the ultrasound. The tech was very nice, young girl that could not have been more than a year or two older than me. I asked how long she had been doing this and she said 5 years. "Good", I thought, "Maybe she has enough experience to know what's wrong." As I stared at the screen and watched my little baby squirm around I saw, with my untrained eyes, exactly what was wrong. A few tears ran down the side of my face but she didn't see. She was concentrating. She saw it too. I don't know a lot about ultrasounds and I don't always know what they are looking at but I knew that this was not normal.
I asked her about the apparent sac of fluid on the back of my sweet baby's head and neck. She acknowledged that it was there but I knew (being in the medical profession myself) that it wasn't her job to tell me what it was. I already knew anyways. It took a long time. Longer than I even expected. She seemed to have trouble getting good pictures. But eventually she finished up and I wiped the gel from my lower, slightly rounded abdomen. She left the room and my eternity started.
I must have looked at my watch a million times in the 20 minutes it took the Radiologist to come back to talk to me. But he finally came in, introduced himself and sat down. A concerned look came across his face like he was searching for the right words. I already knew though. He said, "There was several abnormalities on the pictures." The tears came immediately despite my every effort to hold them back. He handed me a box of tissues and continued with the diagnosis of Cystic Hygroma and Fetal Hydrops. I continued to cry but managed to explain that I already knew what that was. He talked about the pleural effusions and acsites which are really just fancy medical terms for excessive fluid in the lungs and abdominal area, respectively. The words heart failure were mentioned and the difficulty visualizing the kidneys because of all the fluid.
At one point, I must have been really crying because he asked if I wanted him to stop. But I didn't. I needed to know exactly what I was up against. He was a very nice doctor and I am sure that is not the news he wanted to give. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the concerned looks and the honest way he spoke to me.
Telling Patrick was the worst thing. I tried to put my emotions aside so I could explain everything I knew to him but my heart was broken. Patrick managed to get off work to go to a Perinatologist appointment with me the following morning. My OB wanted me seen right away, and I found their urgency even more disheartening. The drive there and the 30 minute wait in the waiting room were awful. Patrick and I knew based on the findings that terminating the pregnancy would be suggested. I didn't even want to hear it. I know to most people its an option but its not an option for us. We don't believe in that. I was shivering with nervousness, which I only remember happening a few times in my life. Finally we were called back.
They skipped the sonographer and cut right to the chase by bringing the Dr in to take a look. I liked him right away. He was very matter of fact with us and explained that this was a very severe case. He explained that many babies aren't able to pull through it but that he has seen it happen even in severe cases. He told us that there was a pretty good possibility that our sweet baby as a chromosomal abnormality. Based on what he saw he was fairly certain it's a girl which led him to think maybe Turner's syndrome. From here on out I will probably refer to the baby as a girl, just FYI, even though it is not 100% certain. I just can't say "it" anymore. Even if I find out its a boy in a few weeks, that would be OK. I just can't say "it" anymore.
The doctor said, "I am getting the feeling from you guys that termination is not an option." He said it as a statement. Hallelujah! Thank you, God. This doctor gets it! Patrick and I both knew it was an option but neither one of us wanted a doctor to suggest ripping the life away from our precious baby. We love her too much. And the Dr went on to explain what can be done, which is very little as it turns out.
So here is the plan: We pray. The odds are not in our favor and we understand the reality of the situation but medicine cannot fix what is happening to our little angel. We hope for a miracle, that things will spontaneously reverse despite the severity of the situation. We realize that if by some miracle our baby makes it to term that there is a strong chance she will not be most peoples' definition of "normal" and she may not be with us for very long but please, God let her live. Let me hold her in my arms and tell her how much I love her, at least for a little while. And if it is Your Will that she go to be with you in heaven, I will find a way to accept that.
It has been a rough week. My emotions are off the charts but I have found some peace. I know I cannot look too far into the future because I am really just praying for another day for my little girl to live. One day at a time. Tomorrow I have a regular OB appointment and my prayer today is that there is still a heartbeat at the office visit tomorrow. That would feel like such a huge victory at this point when I feel so defeated and helpless. I love my sweet little baby and I am not ready to let her go.
I know that there are only a small handful of people that ready this blog and it has never been my intention to have followers but if you somehow stumbled upon this blog, will you please pray for us?For me, Patrick and our sweet little baby. Add us to your prayer list maybe? I strongly believe in the power of prayer. It is my comfort right now. I'll try to update the blog after tomorrows appointment.
Our child has been loved before we even knew it was inside me. Days before I took a pregnancy test I was fairly certain it would be positive and I fell in love. Love is a funny thing and it never ceases to amaze me. I have never been a mother before but somehow I feel that bond that can only be felt between a mother and her child.
Patrick was elated. I have never seen him so happy. He had one of those "Oh my God, is this really happening?" moments, but in a good way. There are really no words to describe those feelings. I remember every detail of that night we found out that we were going to be parents.
Up until a few days ago, it had been a relatively uneventful pregnancy. No morning sickness, very rare nausea and food aversions. I ate well and exercised semi-regularly and about a month ago I finally started to see the change in my body. I thought I would hate seeing my body change but it was a welcome change. It meant my baby was REALLY in there and growing big and strong. I was just thinking the other day... Man, pregnancy has been a piece of cake!
But it can't all be good. Something told me that something wasn't right. It was having symptoms of any kind at all. I just had this gut feeling. I'm a pretty intuitive person, more than most people I've realized. So when the feeling didn't go away I had to take matters into my own hands. I, a very flexible and not at all demanding woman, demanded an ultrasound.
After a lot of reluctance from my OB they got me scheduled for that day (this last Tuesday). I made quick plans for someone to cover for me a work and I left to get the ultrasound. The tech was very nice, young girl that could not have been more than a year or two older than me. I asked how long she had been doing this and she said 5 years. "Good", I thought, "Maybe she has enough experience to know what's wrong." As I stared at the screen and watched my little baby squirm around I saw, with my untrained eyes, exactly what was wrong. A few tears ran down the side of my face but she didn't see. She was concentrating. She saw it too. I don't know a lot about ultrasounds and I don't always know what they are looking at but I knew that this was not normal.
I asked her about the apparent sac of fluid on the back of my sweet baby's head and neck. She acknowledged that it was there but I knew (being in the medical profession myself) that it wasn't her job to tell me what it was. I already knew anyways. It took a long time. Longer than I even expected. She seemed to have trouble getting good pictures. But eventually she finished up and I wiped the gel from my lower, slightly rounded abdomen. She left the room and my eternity started.
I must have looked at my watch a million times in the 20 minutes it took the Radiologist to come back to talk to me. But he finally came in, introduced himself and sat down. A concerned look came across his face like he was searching for the right words. I already knew though. He said, "There was several abnormalities on the pictures." The tears came immediately despite my every effort to hold them back. He handed me a box of tissues and continued with the diagnosis of Cystic Hygroma and Fetal Hydrops. I continued to cry but managed to explain that I already knew what that was. He talked about the pleural effusions and acsites which are really just fancy medical terms for excessive fluid in the lungs and abdominal area, respectively. The words heart failure were mentioned and the difficulty visualizing the kidneys because of all the fluid.
At one point, I must have been really crying because he asked if I wanted him to stop. But I didn't. I needed to know exactly what I was up against. He was a very nice doctor and I am sure that is not the news he wanted to give. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the concerned looks and the honest way he spoke to me.
Telling Patrick was the worst thing. I tried to put my emotions aside so I could explain everything I knew to him but my heart was broken. Patrick managed to get off work to go to a Perinatologist appointment with me the following morning. My OB wanted me seen right away, and I found their urgency even more disheartening. The drive there and the 30 minute wait in the waiting room were awful. Patrick and I knew based on the findings that terminating the pregnancy would be suggested. I didn't even want to hear it. I know to most people its an option but its not an option for us. We don't believe in that. I was shivering with nervousness, which I only remember happening a few times in my life. Finally we were called back.
They skipped the sonographer and cut right to the chase by bringing the Dr in to take a look. I liked him right away. He was very matter of fact with us and explained that this was a very severe case. He explained that many babies aren't able to pull through it but that he has seen it happen even in severe cases. He told us that there was a pretty good possibility that our sweet baby as a chromosomal abnormality. Based on what he saw he was fairly certain it's a girl which led him to think maybe Turner's syndrome. From here on out I will probably refer to the baby as a girl, just FYI, even though it is not 100% certain. I just can't say "it" anymore. Even if I find out its a boy in a few weeks, that would be OK. I just can't say "it" anymore.
The doctor said, "I am getting the feeling from you guys that termination is not an option." He said it as a statement. Hallelujah! Thank you, God. This doctor gets it! Patrick and I both knew it was an option but neither one of us wanted a doctor to suggest ripping the life away from our precious baby. We love her too much. And the Dr went on to explain what can be done, which is very little as it turns out.
So here is the plan: We pray. The odds are not in our favor and we understand the reality of the situation but medicine cannot fix what is happening to our little angel. We hope for a miracle, that things will spontaneously reverse despite the severity of the situation. We realize that if by some miracle our baby makes it to term that there is a strong chance she will not be most peoples' definition of "normal" and she may not be with us for very long but please, God let her live. Let me hold her in my arms and tell her how much I love her, at least for a little while. And if it is Your Will that she go to be with you in heaven, I will find a way to accept that.
It has been a rough week. My emotions are off the charts but I have found some peace. I know I cannot look too far into the future because I am really just praying for another day for my little girl to live. One day at a time. Tomorrow I have a regular OB appointment and my prayer today is that there is still a heartbeat at the office visit tomorrow. That would feel like such a huge victory at this point when I feel so defeated and helpless. I love my sweet little baby and I am not ready to let her go.
I know that there are only a small handful of people that ready this blog and it has never been my intention to have followers but if you somehow stumbled upon this blog, will you please pray for us?For me, Patrick and our sweet little baby. Add us to your prayer list maybe? I strongly believe in the power of prayer. It is my comfort right now. I'll try to update the blog after tomorrows appointment.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Shut down
Today is day three of the government shut down. I won't pretend like I know all about it because I don't. I do, however, find it frustrating (like the majority of the American people) that Congress can''t seems to get their act together. And because of this, the People suffer.
It's my personal opinion that there are actually too many people in "government" jobs. I hope that doesn't offend anybody. It's not that I want those jobs to be done away with... I just don't think the government needs to have their hands in EVERYTHING.
But today we have a problem because the are tons (not even sure exactly how many) of people that are considered "non-essential" that are not allowed to work. NOT ALLOWED! That adds a whole new meaning to the term "unemployment."
These are people that get up everyday, go to work, do their job, do a good job, and come home to their families. But then we have Congress which is apparently "essential" that still get's to go to work but they aren't doing their jobs. They are doing a pretty lousy job obviously. How unfair is that?!?!
I am thankful today for my job. I am still getting a paycheck while others are not. I can only pray that these issues get resolved in a timely manor so the American people can get back to work and get on with their lives.
It's my personal opinion that there are actually too many people in "government" jobs. I hope that doesn't offend anybody. It's not that I want those jobs to be done away with... I just don't think the government needs to have their hands in EVERYTHING.
But today we have a problem because the are tons (not even sure exactly how many) of people that are considered "non-essential" that are not allowed to work. NOT ALLOWED! That adds a whole new meaning to the term "unemployment."
These are people that get up everyday, go to work, do their job, do a good job, and come home to their families. But then we have Congress which is apparently "essential" that still get's to go to work but they aren't doing their jobs. They are doing a pretty lousy job obviously. How unfair is that?!?!
I am thankful today for my job. I am still getting a paycheck while others are not. I can only pray that these issues get resolved in a timely manor so the American people can get back to work and get on with their lives.
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