If ever I felt more of a need to cuss, it would be now. Cuss, cry, cuss, and then cuss some more. I would say that I wasn’t ready for this, but I was. Ask my husband and my friends, they have been hearing me say this regularly over the past two months “No, I’m not afraid, but I also don’t think everything will be okay.” “Oh pish posh,” my husband would say, “You are just paranoid and emotional.” Both true, but the fact still remains…I was right.
My Nana confirmed such a thing with her phone call to me Sunday night, “Maria honey, I just cannot get this off my mind and I need to tell you. Gideon wants you to be a warrior like him. For you to be strong Maria.” Gideon I love you honey, but I was all done being strong. Now I just want to be happy, joyous! Even still, what choice do I have?
I stared at the same damn screen, with the same damn nurse, in the same damn room (apparently this post is PG-13). I cried before the ultrasound even touched my belly. “Well,” she said “it seems too early to see kidneys or a bladder. We will need to look for those more next time.” Awesome…strike 1.
She continued on, “Here is the spine, the head, the tiny legs, right arm and left arm. And, well honey I know your history so I am just going to be honest with you…I see something on here that doesn’t look very good. The doctor will need to come talk with you.” No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Not possible. No, this is not possible. How can this possibly be possible??? Strike 2.
Doctor comes in and with the worst bedside manner possible, explains to us in so many statistical and researchical ways that they see fluid under the baby’s upper spine that is commonly indicative of some type of chromosomal deformity. It could be a number of a number of things, the possibilities sounded like they were limitless. All I wanted to know was one thing…”Will my baby live? I just want to know if my baby will LIVE?” “Well,” the doctor said, “Two of the chromosomal abnormalities have fatal diagnosis. Trisomy 18 and Trisomy 13 babies have very bleak outlooks.” Strike 3. Strike 3 to 1 billion.
Even as I write I am not sure I have fully processed all of this. What I do know is that I am disappointed, I am sad, and I am not giving up hope. With Gideon they gave us no window of hope, it was a clear and definitive “your child will not survive.” Until that day comes, I will hold onto the hope that I will hold a baby that will live. I will try, prayerfully try, to wait patiently for the day when we can finally (and hopefully joyfully) tell our children that a new baby brother or sister is on the way. And I will remember that my God is a God of miracles, and that just because he didn’t do one with Gideon doesn’t mean He won’t do one for this baby. I get it Gideon, Mommy will try and be a warrior like you. I will try to fight.
Emphasis on try. I am still working through the bitterness of once again seeing my dreams dashed away on a ultrasound screen. Once again running down the same damn hallway, tears running down my cheeks, trying so hard not to make eye contact with any living being.
When the doctor stopped his speal (which was very long by the way) the first thing my husband said was, “So if I heard correctly, after counting all the numbers you threw out, there is a 50/50 chance that the baby is okay. 50% chance that there is something wrong, that something we wouldn’t know yet…but then a 50% that the baby is healthy with no defects?” You can imagine which 50 he is counting on and which 50 I cannot get out of my head. I guess that’s why they are called “your better half.” My better half wants to treat today as if it never existed and worry when we actually have something to worry about. Needless to say I think we will be a good balance for eachother in this.
I really feel God calling me to trust Him over anything else. Over ultrasounds, over doctors, over statistics. That there is a greater plan at work than we can see and that once more I am called to have faith. In all honesty, yes, I am sick and tired and weary of being strong and walking in blind faith. I want so badly to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I can jump in gleeful joy at the thought of a fifth child being born into this family. That is what I want, but I have come to appreciate how narrow sited my wants are and remember that God is good because He is good not because I got what I want.
This is the verse that keeps coming up for me since I’ve gotten home from the doctors, “How many are Your works, O Lord! In wisdom You made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” Psalm 104:24. He created it all, if the whole world is in His hands than my baby and babies and children are there too. I have to fixate on His greatness, and His plan, and His wisdom. I have to remember that He is good and that He wants good things for me. I need to remember that He loves me. He does love me. He does love me, He does. No Maria, He doesn’t want you to cry, He wants you to trust.
There is a gift in all of this too, once again my kids look like walking gifts from God. I remember after getting Gideon’s diagnosis being in awe of them, watching them, and squeezing them tighter than I ever have before. I am back in that place. And while this past year has not been easy and this baby having thing has become the hardest thing we have ever done…somehow someway God has already provided us with the blessing of children. And so far, they have been spared turmoil in this pregnancy so far, and that I am so thankful for too. We will continue to wait to tell them until we know more, if we have the choice to spare them pain and loss again we will do it. And if we will do that for our children, won’t our Heavenly Father do that for us too?
I so much appreciate your prayers, your encouragement and your stories. Fellow Mommy’s and Baby Loss Mommy’s, can we be there for eachother? Many of you ran through my brain as I sat in the doctors, remembering all your sweet baby ultrasound days that went similar to mine, if anything we can glean strength from not being alone.
Right now we are praying for good lab results. A simple blood test will rule out or in Down Syndrome, Trisomy 18, and Trisomy 13 and the stinking test will tell us the gender of the baby. Is that not crazy to you? It was crazy to me. Like that little tube of blood will tell you all that?? Once again we wait and pray and it will take 10 days. The 10 days thing again, last time it was 10 days too. I know I probably sound like a broken record, but this Momma is about to lose her mind if this keeps going exactly matching way it went last year. I pray for a different ending! A different result. Not hopeless after hopeless after hopeless…but instead “well, there is still hope!” More hope please. More hope.