Sweet Turns Sour

May 10, 2012 – As I wait in the parking lot at Keith’s workplace the tears start to fall, again. It’s been three days since we heard those words, “It’s not good.” We have made our decision for the most part, but wanted one more ultrasound just to be sure. The genetic counselor said that the insurance may not cover another ultrasound if they did it and suggested I call my obstetrician. I spoke with Dr. P’s nurse earlier this morning and they got us on the schedule for this afternoon. We are not expecting a miracle today or to hear a different prognosis. We just want to be sure we are doing everything we can before making a final decision. Keith comes out and we make the drive to Charlotte, nearly silent.

I check in and we sit down to wait. Someone has brought a newborn to their appointment. The baby starts crying and I start sobbing. At least we are facing the opposite direction and don’t have to see the newborn being comforted by its mother. We don’t have to wait too long before the ultrasound tech calls us back.

As she begins the scan, she also begins explaining things. It’s too much. Keith squeezes my hand and whispers, “Make her stop.” I politely ask her not to say any more. She apologizes, but it’s not her fault. She was just trying to help. As she takes measurements I eventually just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.

Then there it is – that sound that was so sweet just over a month ago. That heartbeat was now so sour, so bitter, so harsh. God did not answer my prayers. If it was not His will for our baby to live I did not want to hear that heartbeat. I had prayed that God would take the decision away. Why was He putting this decision in our hands, conflicting all we believe? Why could He not just take the choice away? Why did our baby’s heart still have to be beating?

She finishes up and leaves to get the doctor. Dr. P enters the room and introduces herself to Keith. She hugs me and apologizes. It was just last week that I was here for my first prenatal visit with her. She was so happy and excited for me. Now she is so sorry for me. She looks at the screen and starts to talk. It isn’t good. It would be risky to try and carry the baby. We’re doing the right thing.

It sure doesn’t feel right. This is not how my pregnancy was supposed to end. We know we are making the “best” decision in a terrible situation. We also know that if our baby had any chance of life our decision would be different.  It’s not like our baby will have a short life or a tough life. The doctors are certain. There will be no life.  So we go home and wait.