The Hard part of Life
Five years ago, if you asked Scott and I if we wanted children, we would have given you a very non-chalant answer. Probably something along the lines of, "Well, maybe? I mean, if it happens, it happens." Like I said, non-chalant.
Then it happened. Yep, we are fully aware how it happened, we just didn't really think it would happen. We were on our honeymoon, what are the chances of getting pregnant on your honeymoon? Apparently, the planets were aligned and there must have been a high tide or something. Six weeks after our honeymoon, I felt bizarre. I thought being married was making me crazy until Scott suggested I take a pregnancy test. I did, it was positive, and we freaked out a little bit.
We scheduled an appointment and realized that not only were we going to be adapting to married life, we would also be adapting to parenthood. We walked into our first appointment at 9 weeks with excitement and nervousness. How can you prepare for the first time you see your baby. At that appointment, as the tech pointed out our little fish, Scott and I held hands and also our breath. She took pictures and measurements that we didn't know held heartbreaking news. I wanted to lay there and watch our little baby for hours. We met with our Dr. after the u/s. As she walked in, she said she wanted to talk about genetic counseling. My heart plummeted as she said those words. I looked at my husband and his face was like a stone wall, not betraying how he was feeling.
As she spoke, it was as if I lost conscienceness. We had just seen our healthy looking little baby on the big screen, so what was all this genetic stuff she was talking about? She referred us to a genetic counselor and scheduled us an appointment for the very next week. She spoke about the nuchal thickening on the back of the baby being of a size that caused her concern. This was the first time Scott or I had ever heard the phrase cystic hygroma. She spoke of the thickening not only being behind the neck, but the entire length of the baby. This led her to believe the baby could have 1 of many syndromes, ranging from Downs to Turners to Noonans. Not information that is easy to process when you are 1) still getting used to being married 2) still adjusting to being pregnant 3) and learning your honeymoon baby had abnormalities. Abnormalities became a word that over the next few weeks, I learned to detest hearing.
As we walked out of her office, we were in shock. We decided not to tell our families immediately of our discovery because we didn’t want anyone to worry. Plus, we didn’t have a lot of information. This is where we made a huge mistake, we googled the limited information we had. I looked at images of children with noonan and turners syndrome and I cried. I was terrified. And I was devastated. Yes, I asked what we had done to deserve this. It felt like punishment. My "new" husband and I cried ourselves to sleep. The "honeymoon" was officially over.
Then it happened. Yep, we are fully aware how it happened, we just didn't really think it would happen. We were on our honeymoon, what are the chances of getting pregnant on your honeymoon? Apparently, the planets were aligned and there must have been a high tide or something. Six weeks after our honeymoon, I felt bizarre. I thought being married was making me crazy until Scott suggested I take a pregnancy test. I did, it was positive, and we freaked out a little bit.
We scheduled an appointment and realized that not only were we going to be adapting to married life, we would also be adapting to parenthood. We walked into our first appointment at 9 weeks with excitement and nervousness. How can you prepare for the first time you see your baby. At that appointment, as the tech pointed out our little fish, Scott and I held hands and also our breath. She took pictures and measurements that we didn't know held heartbreaking news. I wanted to lay there and watch our little baby for hours. We met with our Dr. after the u/s. As she walked in, she said she wanted to talk about genetic counseling. My heart plummeted as she said those words. I looked at my husband and his face was like a stone wall, not betraying how he was feeling.
As she spoke, it was as if I lost conscienceness. We had just seen our healthy looking little baby on the big screen, so what was all this genetic stuff she was talking about? She referred us to a genetic counselor and scheduled us an appointment for the very next week. She spoke about the nuchal thickening on the back of the baby being of a size that caused her concern. This was the first time Scott or I had ever heard the phrase cystic hygroma. She spoke of the thickening not only being behind the neck, but the entire length of the baby. This led her to believe the baby could have 1 of many syndromes, ranging from Downs to Turners to Noonans. Not information that is easy to process when you are 1) still getting used to being married 2) still adjusting to being pregnant 3) and learning your honeymoon baby had abnormalities. Abnormalities became a word that over the next few weeks, I learned to detest hearing.
As we walked out of her office, we were in shock. We decided not to tell our families immediately of our discovery because we didn’t want anyone to worry. Plus, we didn’t have a lot of information. This is where we made a huge mistake, we googled the limited information we had. I looked at images of children with noonan and turners syndrome and I cried. I was terrified. And I was devastated. Yes, I asked what we had done to deserve this. It felt like punishment. My "new" husband and I cried ourselves to sleep. The "honeymoon" was officially over.
At our genetic counseling appointment, we first had a 3D ultrsound. Once again, there I laid staring at what appeared to be a healthy baby. We heard the heartbeat and the baby even kicked like it was playing soccer. The u/s tech was very informational. She pointed out the thickening that was causing the concern. There it was, stretching the entire length of our baby. The thickening had already grown since our first u/s the week before. She was honest, telling us the situation did not look good. The cystic hygroma had something called hydrops in it, which are formations inside the thickening. She has never seen a baby with this condition survive to full term. The counselor came in and asked us a million questions regarding our health and the health of our immediate families. There is zero mental or physical impairments with anyone in our families. We have an absolutely clean family history. So why was this happening us. I wanted to shut my eyes and go back to our wedding day that wasn't so long ago. We were so happy and care-free. We were no longer that happy and care-free couple.
We wanted information and were desperate to get it. We wanted to know what we were dealing with. We kept asking if this "abnormality" could correct itself. Miracles happen everyday, right? When they offered us the CVS (chorionic villus sampling) the following week in Louisville, we jumped at the chance. On our way there, I puked in the car. I thought it was nerves. Once we were at the Dr., they had me drink a lot of water, as it is easier to take the CVS with a full bladder. After I drank the water, I puked it up while laying on the drs table. After profusely apologizing (they were very nice about it) I had to drink more water. The test itself did not hurt. I felt a little stick and it didn’t take that long. Scott had to leave because he began to feel a little sick. They were able to get the fluid they needed and said it went according to plan. As we got home that day, my husband and I both came down with the flu. A severe flu. Both of us. We laid on the couch and shared a puke bucket. What a crappy day. It was the worst day of our life, so far.
48 hours later, we got our results back. The baby was absolutely free of a chromosomal abnormality and it did not have downs. So what did this mean? Basically, we could slightly narrow down what was going on with our baby. All factors were pointing to turners or noonans. This also meant Scott and I are free of abnormalities that we could pass to a fetus. The % of this situation happening to us was less than 1%, yet here we were.
Between visits we would pray, search the internet for answers, stare off in to space, and question "why." We finally gave our families an abbreviated version of what was happening. We could barely speak of the fear and heartbreak we were going through, much less tell it over and over to everyone. Trying to tell you mother her unborn grandchild isn't going to make it is gut wretching. Imagining that you won't be able to hold your own child, kiss it good-night, or sing it lullabies is even worse. Talking to our baby hurt my heart. Did he/she know that they were sick? Did he/she know that we loved it and wanted it to survive worse than we ever wanted anything in our live?
Between visits we would pray, search the internet for answers, stare off in to space, and question "why." We finally gave our families an abbreviated version of what was happening. We could barely speak of the fear and heartbreak we were going through, much less tell it over and over to everyone. Trying to tell you mother her unborn grandchild isn't going to make it is gut wretching. Imagining that you won't be able to hold your own child, kiss it good-night, or sing it lullabies is even worse. Talking to our baby hurt my heart. Did he/she know that they were sick? Did he/she know that we loved it and wanted it to survive worse than we ever wanted anything in our live?
Our next u/s was scheduled soon after as they wanted to monitor the thickening. It was that day, there was no longer a healthy heartbeat. After everything we had learned and been through, here we were. A D&C was scheduled the following day. They put me out and I don’t remember anything from it. Thankfully. I woke up and our baby was gone. I knew our baby was now abnormality free and had gained wings and a halo.
The Dr. reassured us that this type of thing should have never happened to us. And the chance of it happening again was impossible. We will never understand why it happened or even what exactly happened. It was the hardest thing we’ve ever been through. Newlyweds shouldn't have to say good-bye to their baby. No one should have to say good-bye to their baby.
Two months later as Scott was making dinner, I took a pregnancy test just because there was one in the cabinet and I wanted to see what happened. Well, you know the rest of that story, we had our "Rainbow Baby" - The storm (the loss of our newlywed baby) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm clouds might still be overhead as the family continues to cope with the loss, but something colourful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.
We didn't talk about our loss to many people. The pain we felt was like having our hearts ripped out every minute of everyday. I didn't want people to feel sorry for us and I didn't want to talk about it. Having Paisey did not replace the feeling of loss for our first baby, but I also know if our first baby hadn't been chosen to become an angel, Paisley wouldn't be here.
And now the question looms...."Are you going to have more children?" If we hadn't lost our first baby, if my pregnancy with Paisley hadn't been "high risk" with 7 weeks of living in the hospital, I would probably already be carrying our next child. But, as life has happened, we aren't and never will be that couple that are naive in regards to pregnancy. We can't and will never have a happy and care-free pregnancy. We lost that ability a few years ago. We know the pain with having an abnormal u/s, we know the pain of hearing the phrase, "your baby most likely isn't going to make it," we know the pain of watching your Dr. tell you the baby is gone, we know the pain of hearing that the pregnancy is considered "high risk," we know the fear of moving our lives in to the hospital because our baby has "minutes" to live if I were to go in to labor. We know to much. We know more than a couple should have to know.
We also know the relief that come with hearing our baby take his first breath. We know the love that passed from a mother to their child within the first few seconds of meeting. We know the peace that falls over us as we lay our baby in their crib at night and kiss them goodnight. We know how much we love being parents and how our lives are forever better because of our little guy.
This is what makes the question "Are you going to have more children?" impossible to answer. Do we want to, yes. Are we scared? Terrified.
Like this blog? Leave a comment, feedback makes me happy. :)
Two months later as Scott was making dinner, I took a pregnancy test just because there was one in the cabinet and I wanted to see what happened. Well, you know the rest of that story, we had our "Rainbow Baby" - The storm (the loss of our newlywed baby) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm clouds might still be overhead as the family continues to cope with the loss, but something colourful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.
We didn't talk about our loss to many people. The pain we felt was like having our hearts ripped out every minute of everyday. I didn't want people to feel sorry for us and I didn't want to talk about it. Having Paisey did not replace the feeling of loss for our first baby, but I also know if our first baby hadn't been chosen to become an angel, Paisley wouldn't be here.
And now the question looms...."Are you going to have more children?" If we hadn't lost our first baby, if my pregnancy with Paisley hadn't been "high risk" with 7 weeks of living in the hospital, I would probably already be carrying our next child. But, as life has happened, we aren't and never will be that couple that are naive in regards to pregnancy. We can't and will never have a happy and care-free pregnancy. We lost that ability a few years ago. We know the pain with having an abnormal u/s, we know the pain of hearing the phrase, "your baby most likely isn't going to make it," we know the pain of watching your Dr. tell you the baby is gone, we know the pain of hearing that the pregnancy is considered "high risk," we know the fear of moving our lives in to the hospital because our baby has "minutes" to live if I were to go in to labor. We know to much. We know more than a couple should have to know.
We also know the relief that come with hearing our baby take his first breath. We know the love that passed from a mother to their child within the first few seconds of meeting. We know the peace that falls over us as we lay our baby in their crib at night and kiss them goodnight. We know how much we love being parents and how our lives are forever better because of our little guy.
This is what makes the question "Are you going to have more children?" impossible to answer. Do we want to, yes. Are we scared? Terrified.
Like this blog? Leave a comment, feedback makes me happy. :)
Oh Kara. Reading this whole post has me in tears. I am so sorry you two had to go through this. And I think your fears are perfectly understandable. Life is such a bitch sometimes. No one should ever have to go through anything like that. Ever.
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