The Moment That Brought Us to Our Knees

After being told we could terminate the pregnancy we started our weekly scans.  I complied lists of questions that I would make it half way through before the answers I was getting made it not worth asking the rest of the questions.  Some questions I asked over and over again.  "Why did this happen?"  The same answer I kept getting was, "It was a fluke."  This phrase stirred anger in me.  My daughter was not a fluke!  She was planned for, she has a name, she has a room waiting for her, she has siblings anxious to meet her, she has two sets of grandparents awaiting her arrival, she has so much love.  She is not a fluke! Each time I had an appointment, we would scramble to find someone to go so I wasn't alone in case the words came "There is no longer a heartbeat."  While time stood still for us in our broken little world, the rest of the world moved on.  I had to go to work, I had to take the kids the school, and I had to keep living when all I wanted was to stay in my bed and just get my daughter here safely.  It felt like so much time went by.  In reality from the terrible 19 weeks scan until the day of her delivery was just shy of 4 weeks.  On April 19, something awful happened that rocked me and brought me to a dark place.  I young woman, I had come to know through the Hydrops Support Group announced her darling little boy no longer had a heartbeat.  Most people can recall where they were the moment of the 9/11 attacks, and I can recall with the same clarity where I was the moment I got that message.  I was sitting in my chair, facing my aide, arguing with a kid about why he couldn't run to the art room alone.  I glanced at my phone and stopped mid sentence.  I got up, without a word, and walked outside and fell apart.  I sent her messages telling her I was here if she needed me.  Then, I attempted to continue my day, knowing this girl I had come to love was in labor bringing her darling boy in a world to imperfect for such a perfect little man.  That was a Thursday, in less than a week we would be in the same place, grieving for these tiny angels.  On Friday, I started retaining a lot of fluid.  I called my doctor and she said to keep checking my blood pressure. By Saturday morning, I knew I needed to get to the hospital.  My mom picked me up, because Ryan was out of town.  He rushed to get home.  At the hospital, they put McKenna on a monitor, thinking she was too tiny for it to pick her up.  It did though.  She kicked and played as if to say "I'm here, Mommy. Don't be afraid!"  Every kick I cried and told her I loved her.  The triage nurses didn't know what hydrops was or "Mirror's Syndrome".  They sent me home on bed rest.  On Monday, I had another appointment with my regular OB.  She said "We can't keep you pregnant much longer." We were waiting until I saw the specialist on Wednesday.  I woke up Tuesday morning, helped the kids dress, and then checked my blood pressure.  Ryan was home, but had run to the gym.  My blood pressure was 212/127.  I thought "this is a mistake, Ill recheck it."  Fifteen minutes later I got a similar result and called Ryan to tell him we needed to get to the hospital.  we went to OSU where I was admitted and began the most difficult 24 hours of my life.

Another down the drain

Well, today marks the end of another failed cycle and the end my "trying". I am not sure how I go about not trying, knowing all I do about signs and what to watch for. I'm hoping through prayer and excepting it's time to quit trying I'll again become blind to these things....I was so sure it worked this time. I had all the early symptoms. It's time to quit. Ryan was on vacation just by luck this cycle and is on the road too much to make it happen. In time, this too I will accept.

The waiting and questions

I am writing this continuation of our story during what is called the "two week wait" period after trying to conceive. We want a baby so badly and a negative test is so depressing and brings all the painful things back and always is followed by loads of tears. I am struggling especially today, thinking of certain people who are pregnant and how painful it is to be around them. No one understands this and thinks I am very selfish for feeling this way. Maybe I am, but I also feel like I have paid the ultimate price and my feelings are very delicate. I wish I had some understanding and compassion in this area from those around me. Anyhow, our story continues....
We were set up with a Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor, in other words, the specialist. We were sent to OSU, 5 days after our tragic ultrasound. I complain our two week wait is difficult, but nothing was as difficult as that wait. I went to work like normal, shuttled kids around like normal, cared for my house like normal, and yet felt like the world was pressing me down. I researched like crazy. I found a picture during this time that said "A worried mother does more research than the FBI". It was true! I stayed up late reading everything, most of it crushing my hope and bringing me to tears and nightmares. During this time I found a support group through Facebook, that became my lifeline. The only people who really understood my nightmare. (I'll write more on that later.) When Monday came we went to our MFM appointment. We had to be there at 8:00am. We arrived early and sat watching a crazy video about people who carrying around lifelike baby dolls after a loss. We laughed a little, never realizing how real that pain could be and how it really can push you into craziness. (I'd like to note that I still have never carried around a doll, but I totally see how it can be such an emotionally breaking experience that people would.) They called us into our ultrasound at 8:00 and we began an appointment that would last 5 1/2 hours and rip through our emotions like Hurricane Katrina! The tech did the ultrasound, saying very little but printing pictures of her. We saw her beautiful spine, the cutest little butt, perfect toes, perfect hands, tiny little face. She was so perfect, surely this was all a silly mistake, she was fine and the tech was not talking because she couldn't find anything concerning. WRONG! She left after handing us tons of pictures that we looked at. Next came a counselor. She asked us if we knew what problems might arise. She talked about genetic issues, but said the doctor would be in, she just wanted to prepare us for the possibilities. I'm not sure how much time passed after she left. For us, it was an eternity. I cried and Ryan seemed angry and confused. Why would this woman do this to us when no one knows what is wrong? Next came the doctor and he did another ultrasound and after putting the wand back he looked at me and said these words I'll never forget, "I see some things that concern me. Babies like this just don't make it. Their hearts stop beating in the womb. I'll see you back next week." What?! We then were sent to see a genetics counselor who explained that there are 3 major chromosomal defects that can cause what we had learned was called "cystic hygroma" and "hydrops". Such foreign words, so foreign I couldn't remember them to repeat them to family. She went through our family history and could not "red flag" any issues. They told us we should terminate the pregnancy. They left us in rooms to cry and kept suffering us around so that other people would t see our sadness. Then they did an amniocentesis to determine the cause. The results came in the next day! She passed all her tests! She could live a normal life and yet they still said "we still offer to terminate the pregnancy" Why and how could we do that to our little girl, who passed her tests, had a name, had clothes and books waiting for her, and moved all the time?!