Wonder Women
A year ago, we went in for our anatomy scan with Riley. I was nervous, because the last anatomy scan we had (with Reagan) didn't go so well. All turned out OK in the end, but that is a story for another time.
This time, we went into the anatomy scan knowing that our baby had an irregular heart beat, which had been found during a previous prenatal check-up. We had to wait 6 weeks from the time the doctors found the irregular heart beat to the time we could actually have a specialist/high-risk pregnancy group complete the anatomy scan to find out more about our baby's heart. This wait was cruel, as it always is. Our doctors told us that a lot of babies have irregular heart beats at the beginning though, and it usually fixes itself by the time the baby is born. So we were holding on to that hope with all of our might.
So the day of the anatomy scan finally arrived. And like I said, this time around, I knew I should be nervous. I knew that the news we would find out after the anatomy scan could rock our world. And once again, it did. Only, it had nothing to do with our baby's heart. That had corrected itself, luckily, but they found another problem. She would never open her left hand.
After that initial scan, the doctor told us that most likely she just didn't want to open her hand that day, and we should come back in another four weeks to have it re-checked. We went off on our merry way ecstatic that her heart was OK, and thinking everything was fine, because that's what we were lead to believe.
Those four weeks went by, relatively stress-free, and then we made the short trip back to the high-risk pregnancy practice for a repeat scan. During the scan, I could tell that she still wasn't opening her hand. They took a lot of pictures of it but I couldn't tell what we were looking at yet. When the ultrasound tech was done, they told us we would need to speak with a geneticist. I had no idea what that would mean, or what the geneticist would tell us. But I was terrified. I knew something was wrong.
We walked into her office a few moments later, and she had these terrifying images on her computer, which she quickly minimized, so as not to alarm us, I'm sure. Well, too late for that. She then proceeded to show us pictures of our baby's hand, and explained that she didn't know what exactly was wrong with it or what had caused it. But it wasn't right.
She started to ask me all these mundane questions about our family, and how old my other daughter was, and if she had any birth defects. There was some med. student sitting in the room watching me answer these questions. And then I just broke down.
You never imagine when you wake up in the morning that someone is going to tell you that there's something wrong with your unborn child. We weren't prepared for that. I wasn't prepared to have to wait five unbearable months not knowing what could be wrong with my baby. We both planned on this being our last baby, and I so badly wanted this pregnancy to go smoothly, unlike the previous one. I wanted to consciously enjoy and remember every single moment of it because I knew it would be the last. And that day I felt robbed of all of that. The remainder of my pregnancy would be spent worrying about this little baby that I had come to love so much. It felt so unfair.
Riley is 7 months old now. She's a HAPPY, amazing, perfect little baby. Her hand is different, and when she was born, we found out there is also an issue with her arm, but she is perfect. I know we are lucky. Babies are born every day with more severe problems. But when it's your baby, you want so badly for her life to be amazing, and easy, and wonderful. Anything that has the potential to deny her that is almost unbearable.
So, I knew I had to be strong. And become even stronger. Because this little baby is going to need that from me. So will her sisters. We'll be the Wonder Women, because what other choice do we have?
This time, we went into the anatomy scan knowing that our baby had an irregular heart beat, which had been found during a previous prenatal check-up. We had to wait 6 weeks from the time the doctors found the irregular heart beat to the time we could actually have a specialist/high-risk pregnancy group complete the anatomy scan to find out more about our baby's heart. This wait was cruel, as it always is. Our doctors told us that a lot of babies have irregular heart beats at the beginning though, and it usually fixes itself by the time the baby is born. So we were holding on to that hope with all of our might.
So the day of the anatomy scan finally arrived. And like I said, this time around, I knew I should be nervous. I knew that the news we would find out after the anatomy scan could rock our world. And once again, it did. Only, it had nothing to do with our baby's heart. That had corrected itself, luckily, but they found another problem. She would never open her left hand.
After that initial scan, the doctor told us that most likely she just didn't want to open her hand that day, and we should come back in another four weeks to have it re-checked. We went off on our merry way ecstatic that her heart was OK, and thinking everything was fine, because that's what we were lead to believe.
Those four weeks went by, relatively stress-free, and then we made the short trip back to the high-risk pregnancy practice for a repeat scan. During the scan, I could tell that she still wasn't opening her hand. They took a lot of pictures of it but I couldn't tell what we were looking at yet. When the ultrasound tech was done, they told us we would need to speak with a geneticist. I had no idea what that would mean, or what the geneticist would tell us. But I was terrified. I knew something was wrong.
We walked into her office a few moments later, and she had these terrifying images on her computer, which she quickly minimized, so as not to alarm us, I'm sure. Well, too late for that. She then proceeded to show us pictures of our baby's hand, and explained that she didn't know what exactly was wrong with it or what had caused it. But it wasn't right.
She started to ask me all these mundane questions about our family, and how old my other daughter was, and if she had any birth defects. There was some med. student sitting in the room watching me answer these questions. And then I just broke down.
You never imagine when you wake up in the morning that someone is going to tell you that there's something wrong with your unborn child. We weren't prepared for that. I wasn't prepared to have to wait five unbearable months not knowing what could be wrong with my baby. We both planned on this being our last baby, and I so badly wanted this pregnancy to go smoothly, unlike the previous one. I wanted to consciously enjoy and remember every single moment of it because I knew it would be the last. And that day I felt robbed of all of that. The remainder of my pregnancy would be spent worrying about this little baby that I had come to love so much. It felt so unfair.
Riley is 7 months old now. She's a HAPPY, amazing, perfect little baby. Her hand is different, and when she was born, we found out there is also an issue with her arm, but she is perfect. I know we are lucky. Babies are born every day with more severe problems. But when it's your baby, you want so badly for her life to be amazing, and easy, and wonderful. Anything that has the potential to deny her that is almost unbearable.
So, I knew I had to be strong. And become even stronger. Because this little baby is going to need that from me. So will her sisters. We'll be the Wonder Women, because what other choice do we have?
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