Processing

We managed to get the girls home after the appointment (about a thirty minute drive) and my parents came up to stay with them so Chris and I could take the night to just process everything that had happened in the last twelve hours.  We had gone from parents who couldn't wait to find out if they were having a boy or a girl to parents who still didn't have the answer to that question, but did know that their child would die shortly after birth if he/she even made it that long. 

I can't possibly begin to describe the conversation we had that night...and wouldn't really want to because it was one of the most intensely painful and personal times we have ever had together. What I do want to share is just exactly what kind of choices and thoughts we were facing.

When we received the diagnosis, I already had a pretty good idea what it meant - we could either terminate the pregnancy immediately, choose an induction and deliver immediately, or carry the baby to term and deliver at that time.  We meet with a specialist in three days to discuss these things with him, but we've already determined what is or isn't an option for us.  I will say that I am thankful for a husband with whom I am totally compatible and with whom I truly seem to connect; there was never a battle or even a real difference of opinion when it came to this topic. 

A large part of the discussion also focused on what we were feeling.  At the top were bewilderment and anger.  How on Earth could this possibly happen to two normal healthy people?  Why would God allow this to happen?  What did we do to deserve this? Why are we having to suffer like this?

Then the more practical questions - How do we tell our family? our friends? our coworkers? What do we tell a three year old who was thrilled to be getting a baby?  What kinds of arrangements will we make?  Who will be allowed in the room after the baby is born?  What will the baby look like? How long will he/she live? 

Finally, just a lot of sobbing, but somehow not as much as I expected.  It just didn't seem to be that useful. There were so many things to face, so many things to discuss...and the longer I cried, the less we would get done.  

We managed to get some sleep, more out of sheer exhaustion than any real desire to rest.  I also think we both wanted to wake up the next morning and find out that this was all some terrible nightmare that wouldn't quit or some horrible practical joke.  Unfortunately we woke to a world where nothing had changed - we were still facing the death of a child.