The Anatomy Scan - by Janette

Everything about this pregnancy has been different, even opposite, of the others. But I chalked it up to it maybe being a girl (still do not know gender), or that I had 2 others to run after and care for. Of course, I had that nagging suspicion that something might be wrong but I do tend to be the pessimist.

I couldn't sleep last night after 4am. Was it the half cup of coffee I had that morning at breakfast? Or anxiety sinfully jostling me awake, though I did not feel worried and kept prayerfully submitting the outcome of the anatomy scan to the Lord?

Derrick's parents arrived early in the morning to watch the boys, and we were off.

My heart pounded in the waiting room, and we were promptly called in.

The technician told us it was her second day (what), couldn't get the computer to work, and we were transferred to another room. I thanked God for the technician's gentle hands, remembering how deep and hard the technician for the other 2 pushed that I feared for their well-being.

The technician told us she would first take measurements for the doctor, and then show us pictures of the baby + gender. We never got to that latter part.

After a few minutes of scanning the heart, the technician pushed the screen away from me and I had the company of my own breath, hum of the sonogram machine, nausea from laying down so quickly after breakfast, and an expansive view of the ceiling for the next hour. I prayed for the technician, for Baby, and tried hard to read Derrick/the technician's faces. Derrick made faces at me, and I knew he had no idea what he was looking at either.

I thought the technician was pretty fast; she only repeatedly asked me if I had earlier scans, and if I had gotten genetic testing.

"No, it would not change anything for us."

She then left for a long time to speak with the doctor.

When she returned, she curtly reported that we would need to schedule a higher-level scan due to the positioning of the baby and showed us the door.

I felt like we had wasted the entire morning and came away with no information, no pictures, no gender... and would have to schedule childcare + Derrick would miss work again for another scan.

We took this photo to remember our visit, nevertheless:

As I picked up our Chick-Fil-A lunch mobile order from the counter, my phone rang. I dropped off the bags with Derrick's parents and ran outside.

The doctor on the other side asked if I had time to speak and if I could sit down. I could hardly breathe. She told me she was very sorry, but the ultrasound showed problems with the heart, kidneys, and fluid all over the body. We would need to schedule a higher-level ultrasound. She related the phone number, to which I hastily scribbled onto the back of a CFA napkin.

I wasn't surprised that we could receive a problematic report because I know God never owes us health. All I could think was: our baby is going to die. There would be no addition to our family in February, we should probably not take our November vacation, I should basically conclude all future plans that included Baby.

I called Derrick, and couldn't help but break down. I heard him unravel as well. I heard myself tell him to stay at work; his parents were with me, and he may need to take time off of work later. I wiped my tears with another CFA napkin.

I tried to pull myself together in the bathroom, and then got a bloody nose. What a mess.

I told the kids after their naps.

J responded: "Oh no. What happened to the Baby, Mommy?" And then wanted to sing "The More We Get Together". Z had more questions: "Why isn't Baby healthy, Mommy? What happened to Baby?" I explained sin and its entrance into the human body.

They both kissed my tummy and said they loved Baby. I told them Mommy and Baba may be very sad sometimes because Baby is very sick. Then, we played Legos.

At dinner, J wrapped his arms around me and told me he loved me. "I love you, Mommy. Mommy sad. Love Baby, kiss Baby." What sweet children!

Our next appointment is Tuesday 10/10 at 9:45am for 2 hours.

Told lots of people today, met only with warmth and kindness by all. So many offers to help, to babysit, to pray.

But we will be fine. We are very sad, and my eyes are red and puffy from crying... but we know we will be fine because we know Christ and He knows us. We trust Him with our lives, and with our children.

Soli Deo Gloria.