Thursday, October 28, 2010

Written on paper - July 1st

If Tuesday was day one, today is day three. Day one was our first ultrasound. The baby moved a lot so it was hard to get measurements, she said. It's probably nothing, but just to be sure... and we got the number for the perinatologist. I was a little scared but also looking forward to a better ultrasound. Going to bed that night I could feel the baby moving more than ever and I thought, "How could anything be wrong?"

Day two was our 2nd ultrasound. We left Mischa at Grandma's, mostly because I knew it'd be a long, boring experience for her. And also just in case there was some bad news. I thought they might have to send me for more testing. That there might be some tiny thing wrong.
During the ultrasound I could see the whole thing on a tv over the bed. I loved seeing all the parts of my baby.
But I saw the cyst on the baby's back. I knew something was wrong. I told myself I didn't know what I was looking at. But I saw it.
Eventually she finished the pictures and measurements and went to get the doctor. The first thing he asked me was if I'd had the AFP test. Everyone kept asking me that. I'd seen my file when I was checking in and it said in big red letters No AFP. I said no but he asked again and started to explain what it was. I said, loudly, "No, I did not have the test."
He looked through everything the tech had marked and then looked at the baby some more. His head was in the way and I couldn't see the screen anymore.
Then he told us what was wrong and showed us the pictures. He explained everything but I only remember snippets. Little pieces of his voice are clipped out and saved, but everything else is blurred. The one that sticks out the most in my mind, the one that keeps repeating in my head is "bilateral club feet." Maybe because everything else was so much worse. And "not mild." NOT MILD - capital letters - the expected level of brain damage would be NOT MILD.

At the first ultrasound I saw the feet on the screen and I said to Josh, "It has feet." I love the feet.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't ask any questions. I wanted to yell at Josh, "Ask something!" But he didn't know what to ask, he didn't know what we needed to know. Finally he did ask what our options were. Code words for tell us the ways we can end this. A clinic for a D&E or he would induce me. He didn't know if my own doctor would. He wrote some of the important words on the back of his business card, gave us the number of the clinic, and told us that he wanted to see us in two weeks if we chose to continue the pregnancy.
Finally I really started to cry. I asked for a picture of the baby and Josh was holding one. I said I just wanted to go home. The tech walked us out through the back door.
I forgot to ask if it's a boy or a girl.

So tomorrow night my OB is inducing labor. In the meantime, I'm waiting with what feels like a perfect baby inside of me. Every time I feel a kick I think of his bilateral club feet.

This morning I woke up before Mischa while Josh was still at work and googled some things. You have to scroll down past all the smiling people in wheelchairs before you get to what spina bifida is. To what will happen to my baby. Surgery 24-48 hours after my baby is born. Paralysis, shunts, brain damage. The kind that is NOT MILD.

I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. Josh talked to the doctor for me. All I know is we're going in some time after 4.

I don't know how to tell people. I called my mom. I got a voicemail at first and left a message for her to call me right away. So she knew something was wrong. I just spilled everything out. We weren't on the phone long and we didn't say much. That's how we are.
I called Terrie. She asked a few questions.
I called Joanna and asked her to tell Susan and the other girls. I knew Susan would be expecting to see me at Concious Parenting the next day and would probably call to check on me. I didn't know how to tell her.
Actually, it's not so much the telling. It's the rest of the conversation.

I am just very sad about this baby.