Monday afternoon I called my midwife to let her know about the appointment and she quickly encouraged me to not despair before a second opinion happened. She went about contacting a MFM she works with to get me seen immediately. The past 24 hours had been one of crying, sadness, loss, grief. These words do not even began to encompass the weight and enormity of the news we had been given. I knew immediately I would stand for life, but didn’t make this any easier to process.
Tuesday afternoon I went in to have this doctor do a Sono and eval. It is so sorrowful to walk around knowing I’m carrying life but that it is a life that has a terminal date. Dr. Rainbows and Sunshine was hopeful and cheerful from first meeting, and immediately I felt like she was going to save my baby. The sono started and images of my baby flooded the screen once again. Movement, body parts, a strong heart beat. It was so deja vu from yesterday as I sat there waiting for analysis from her, watching her face looking for an indications of hope. (So cheery she was I can forgive her for misspelling my name. 😉 )
And then just like that magical words. “I see where Dr. Doom & Gloom might have had that conclusion, but I’m just not seeing that here.” WHAT!? Stop this roller coaster madness now. My emotions and spiritual life are so up and down. Wait. Say all that again. She told me how there was still an incredible amount of fluid making this very serious and very disconcerting, but didn’t necessarily mean incompatible with life. My brain was flooded. She went on to explain how there was most likely a chromosomal anomaly, but we would have to do testing to determine if and what, but that there was a chance to birth an alive baby. See why I call her Dr. Rainbows & Sunshine?! What a far cry from the death sentence we had received just 24 hours later.
I went for my labwork which because of the weekend and Labor Day holiday would mean we would have to wait from Wed afternoon, until the following Tuesday for results. Talk about the longest week of our life. We oscillated from tears of grief to hope to meet an alive baby. I hardly slept. We prayed. I cried some more. We kept as busy as I could and tried to have every moment of my day occupied so I wouldn’t have time to focus on that with the three other kids and our crazy full days.
Tuesday Sept. 5. On our annual vacation to Great Wolf Lodge. 8:12am. A 5 minute phone call to confirm what we already knew was inevitable. A chromosomal abnormality. The one our baby has is called Trisomy 21 (T21) or more commonly called Down Syndrome (DS), which in theory should give us the highest outcome for a live birth. However, combined with the massive fluid around baby, and a heart that is in trouble, means we will just have to wait and watch and pray. The complications make the likelihood of a viable baby is actually surprisingly really low. So for now we are day to day. Alternating between preparing for death, and praying for life. Breathing in and out. Putting one foot in front of another. Trying to keep life normal for our kids and our family, while trying to trust God and keeping growing our little Peanut.
So here we are, choosing life, praying for a miracle, banking on hope that she will be born alive with only Down Syndrome and not a massive amount of other issues, and wanting all that we do with whatever time we get with our Peanut even if it only in Utero to point to Jesus. In the words of the Sidewalk Prophets’ song Live Like That:
I want to live like that
And give it all I have
So that everything I do and say
Points to You…..