My baby was alive. I was grateful for that. My biggest fear had been that I would miscarry. Up until the previous day I had been obsessively reading week by week books and getting daily tips from apps and pregnancy websites. No one ever talked about "bad NT scans". I had previously worried myself sick about every tiny thing that could go wrong because I was in a cluster of hundreds of people that were also pregnant and sharing their horror stories. Days went so slow - I just wanted to safely make it to 12 weeks and I was so, so close. I just wanted so badly to be in that safe zone and after that, everything would be fine... so I thought.
My ultrasound was at a hospital in Milwaukee with a doctor who I had never met before. My mom came and picked me up and drove me to my appointment. With such short notice and such large medical jargon, I figured she was my best hope for understanding what it was that was going on.
The appointment starts and the baby is sleeping. Just completely snoozing away despite the jiggles from the ultrasound wand or the various positions she had me laying.
She'd say "Hey little baby, wake up!" and poke my tummy rapidly. At one point the baby threw it's arms up as if to say "Hey! I'm sleeping here! Now, shoo!"
.jpg)
Sleeping baby Monzingo
The tech left the room and asked that I walk around for a bit and drink some water to possibly wake the baby up. They needed the baby in a certain position in order to get the images they needed. So I did just that - walked small uneven circles in the really tiny room we were in and giggled at the stubbornness of my unborn child. I texted Kevin an update and waited for the tech to come in.
My laps around the room had woken the baby up but now that it was awake we had the opposite problem of getting it to sit still long enough to get an good image. It was too busy doing somersaults and twisting and turning in every which way. The tech was so kind and soft and gentle when she spoke to me. She left to get the images to the doctor and said they'd be back shortly but not before handing me a few photos.
I wasn't scared.
I'm not sure if I didn't realize the severity of the matter at hand or if I just couldn't fathom something being wrong with the tiny little person I had just seen bouncing around. All I remember was that I wasn't really that worried - not with urgency. I thought if I had made it this far that I'd be ok. Even if the baby had downs, I'd figure it all out. I'd love it no matter what.
I'm not sure if I didn't realize the severity of the matter at hand or if I just couldn't fathom something being wrong with the tiny little person I had just seen bouncing around. All I remember was that I wasn't really that worried - not with urgency. I thought if I had made it this far that I'd be ok. Even if the baby had downs, I'd figure it all out. I'd love it no matter what.
The doctor entered the room and sat down at the ultrasound machine. She wasn't the warm, gentle lady that had previously sat there - she was cold and emotionless and straight to the point.
She told me that the nuchal fold, the small pocket of fluid at the base of the baby's neck, was thicker than it was supposed to be. Even at that point I expected her to say "but it's ok, it's not enough to worry over". Instead she pulled up a few photos and showed me measurements. The thickness was supposed to be 3.0mm or less and when I looked up at the number on the screen it showed 4.5mm. I remember thinking "I guess that's not that big of a difference..." but as if the doctor had heard my thoughts she responded with "It's a pretty significant difference."
She told me that the nuchal fold, the small pocket of fluid at the base of the baby's neck, was thicker than it was supposed to be. Even at that point I expected her to say "but it's ok, it's not enough to worry over". Instead she pulled up a few photos and showed me measurements. The thickness was supposed to be 3.0mm or less and when I looked up at the number on the screen it showed 4.5mm. I remember thinking "I guess that's not that big of a difference..." but as if the doctor had heard my thoughts she responded with "It's a pretty significant difference."
At this point I thought I had some life altering things to prepare for. Something that we would just learn to adjust to and live with. I thought it meant the baby might have downs syndrome. I wasn't ready for the other things it may mean. She flatly told me that it could be one of 3 things: Trisomy 21 (downs), Trisomy 18 (Edwards syndrome), Trisomy 13 (Patau syndrome) or if none of those then a possibly fatal organ defect such as congenital heart defect or another organ abnormality.
She started to talk about quality of life and options of termination depending upon the outcome. She then went on to explain that babies who had Trisomy 18 did not live more than a few days (if that) past birth and that it would be more of a risk to me to carry the baby full term because of risks to my own health. That it might not be worth it to put my life in danger for a baby that wouldn't have a chance at life.
She talked about quality of life in regards to downs. Then she went on to say that the other organ defects could vary from surgeries to possibly fatal. No matter the outcome, I'd need to know so that I could make a choice while we were still early enough in the pregnancy.
She talked about quality of life in regards to downs. Then she went on to say that the other organ defects could vary from surgeries to possibly fatal. No matter the outcome, I'd need to know so that I could make a choice while we were still early enough in the pregnancy.
I had two choices for procedures - a blood draw that may take weeks to get back and might not give us a very certain answer or a CVS (chorionic villus sampling) which was much like an amniocentesis and would entail a blood sample from my placenta via needle through my abdomen. The CVS would leave me with a 99% accurate 24 hour result (called a FISH result) that would let me know for sure if the baby had Trisomy 13, 18, or 21. The rest of the results that checked up to 100 genetic abnormalities would come back within 7-10 days.
My mom, bless her soul, was thankfully there to ask questions because at this point I stopped listening and started to stare at a spot on the wall. Whatever they were telling me couldn't be true because I was just watching my baby wiggling and full of life up on the screen. We were so close to being ok.
The doctor left the room and left me to make a decision as to what kind of testing I wanted to have done. The minute she walked out of the door the weight of the situation fell on me and I started to sob. I took a quick bathroom break to try to gather myself and when she came back in I told her I wanted to do the CVS. She nodded and left to go get the nurse and the supplies needed for the procedure, which would be done in that very same room within 10 minutes of my deciding to do it.
The nice ultrasound tech came back - along with a nurse, a medical student and the doctor. She explained to me that it was really important that I don't hold my breath or breathe quickly or start to panic because it would cause my muscles to tense up and that would be harder to pierce through with the needle. She would need to almost completely remove the needle and push it back in at minimum 12 times in order to get the sample from my placenta.
I can't begin to tell you how hard it is to keep your breathing and muscles calm and steady when you're anticipating a very large needle that will be poking you at minimum a dozen times. The intensity only increased once the tech turned on the ultrasound machine and held it to my stomach after it was bathed in batadine. They were double checking the placement of my placenta so they inserted the needle in the correct spot. My baby came bouncing onto the screen in an angry fashion. It almost seemed as though it was worried as to what was happening. I turned to the tech "Will you have that up on screen the whole time?" I asked. "Yes," she responded. "Will the baby be ok?" I feared the needle would poke the baby. "Yes, the baby will be ok. It won't poke the baby," she assured me. She rubbed my arm with her other hand "But you have to slow your breathing down, ok?". I hadn't even noticed it had sped up. I grabbed a handful of my gray and green zip up and started to focus on my breathing. In, out. In, out.
"Ready?" the doctor asked. I threw my focus up to the screen and watched my baby flutter around. I nodded quickly and she inserted the needle. "Breathe in, breathe out" I told myself. I try my hardest to focus on the baby and not to watch the needle moving in and out of my placenta on the screen. Everyone in the room was telling me I was doing really good and that we were almost done but at the same time the doctor was voicing concerns about the fact that her syringe was not filling with a sample despite the fact that her needle was in the exact place it needed to be.
Thankfully I have the skill set to shut down and block out what is going on so I made it through without panic. The nurse came back with aftercare instructions and told me I needed to rest for the next 24-48 hours. Hopefully they would be calling me within 24 hours - 36 at the latest. She handed me a CD with the ultrasound images and released me from their care.
.JPG)
All I was left with was the smallest needle mark and the longest 24 hours of my life ahead of me.
That was the last day I ever grabbed a book or checked a baby app first thing upon wakening.
The doctor left the room and left me to make a decision as to what kind of testing I wanted to have done. The minute she walked out of the door the weight of the situation fell on me and I started to sob. I took a quick bathroom break to try to gather myself and when she came back in I told her I wanted to do the CVS. She nodded and left to go get the nurse and the supplies needed for the procedure, which would be done in that very same room within 10 minutes of my deciding to do it.
The nice ultrasound tech came back - along with a nurse, a medical student and the doctor. She explained to me that it was really important that I don't hold my breath or breathe quickly or start to panic because it would cause my muscles to tense up and that would be harder to pierce through with the needle. She would need to almost completely remove the needle and push it back in at minimum 12 times in order to get the sample from my placenta.
I can't begin to tell you how hard it is to keep your breathing and muscles calm and steady when you're anticipating a very large needle that will be poking you at minimum a dozen times. The intensity only increased once the tech turned on the ultrasound machine and held it to my stomach after it was bathed in batadine. They were double checking the placement of my placenta so they inserted the needle in the correct spot. My baby came bouncing onto the screen in an angry fashion. It almost seemed as though it was worried as to what was happening. I turned to the tech "Will you have that up on screen the whole time?" I asked. "Yes," she responded. "Will the baby be ok?" I feared the needle would poke the baby. "Yes, the baby will be ok. It won't poke the baby," she assured me. She rubbed my arm with her other hand "But you have to slow your breathing down, ok?". I hadn't even noticed it had sped up. I grabbed a handful of my gray and green zip up and started to focus on my breathing. In, out. In, out.
"Ready?" the doctor asked. I threw my focus up to the screen and watched my baby flutter around. I nodded quickly and she inserted the needle. "Breathe in, breathe out" I told myself. I try my hardest to focus on the baby and not to watch the needle moving in and out of my placenta on the screen. Everyone in the room was telling me I was doing really good and that we were almost done but at the same time the doctor was voicing concerns about the fact that her syringe was not filling with a sample despite the fact that her needle was in the exact place it needed to be.
Thankfully I have the skill set to shut down and block out what is going on so I made it through without panic. The nurse came back with aftercare instructions and told me I needed to rest for the next 24-48 hours. Hopefully they would be calling me within 24 hours - 36 at the latest. She handed me a CD with the ultrasound images and released me from their care.
All I was left with was the smallest needle mark and the longest 24 hours of my life ahead of me.
That was the last day I ever grabbed a book or checked a baby app first thing upon wakening.
.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment