This post was originally written on 8/3/13.
Seven days after our first ultrasound, we left the girls with a friend (the one person in real life who knew what was going on with us) and headed to the MFM specialist. I'd had plenty of time to consult Dr. Google and know more about what we were facing and came prepared to talk to the doctor.
Before we met with him, we had to talk with the nurse who, of course, needed to update my medical information from the last time. She initially appeared very confused as to why the computer was showing that I was 60 weeks pregnant - clearly I wasn't here for happy reasons last time and it isn't physically possible for me to be that pregnant. So, I would have honestly hoped that her powers of deduction might have solved that quandary. Nope - I needed to explain that Aaron was born in February and had died. Following that exchange, we then got to listen to her repeat to herself THREE times as she updated information, "Okay, four pregnancies, two living children." "Four pregnancies, two living children." "Four pregnancies, two living children." ...My husband is an exceedingly patient man, but by the time we had heard that three times - even he was shaking his head in frustration. (She was a very sweet lady, but obviously not at all thinking about the words coming out of her mouth in front of two people who recently buried a child.) Finally we finished that step and the doctor came in.
My first question was "Why do we even need to do this ultrasound - it's going to cost us a small fortune and won't it show the same thing as the last one?" His response, in a nutshell: "We are certified for just exactly this reason and I don't trust other people's pictures...so in order to give you my input, I have to see it." Okay, made sense to me. (He also added a few comical details that just reinforces what I've said all along about his bedside manner - he is simply incredible.)
For the next hour, he stayed in the room to talk with us and made us honestly feel like we were the only thing that mattered in that time frame (impressive, given that I know that they are a very busy practice). Within the first few minutes of the ultrasound, and while he was still sitting across the room from the screen, he was able to tell us that our baby looked perfectly normal. He asked the ultrasound tech what she was getting as official measurements and she wasn't even close to the upper range for acceptable limits. He took the time to explain how the nuchal translucency can be easily measured incorrectly and said that roughly 30-50% of the cases like ours are simply a result of bad positioning or honest error. He walked us through all of our available testing options and explained what he would recommend, if we chose to do any additional testing at all (at this point, our risk returns to approximately what it would be for the general population anyway).
We will see him again in September for the usual 20 week anatomy scan. Typically this is done in the OB's office and I was initially a little grumpy about having another expensive ultrasound done, but after time to let it all settle - I'm actually glad that we'll be having it done at their office. You see, I made the mistake of continuing my quest for knowledge and stumbled upon the ever-growing list of things that can become apparent on ultrasound between 12-20 weeks. This is truly one of those cases where ignorance is bliss. I was much better off when my information was "Your baby has a perfectly shaped little head and just the right amount of fluid behind his or her neck." I should have stopped there.
Showing posts with label ultrasound. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ultrasound. Show all posts
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Looking Back: A Reflection on the First Ultrasound
This post was written on 8/3/13.
I'm going to cheat a little for this entry and do some reflection on the week following that first ultrasound. I simply could not bring myself to sit down and write during that time...no matter how much I knew I needed to, the words just would not come. And although we are now past this part of our journey, I want to put all those feelings into words before they begin to fade.
I barely slept at all the night before our first ultrasound. Even though I knew there was nothing I could do to change the outcome of whatever was going to happen, I was nervous. We had already made the decision that the girls would be staying with my parents that night instead of coming with us to the ultrasound (to be fair, we had not yet told anyone other than a few close friends about the pregnancy). I could not stomach the thought of them being in the room if we were to once again receive devastating news.
I did reasonably well on the way to the doctor's office, but as we stepped off of the elevator and prepared to walk in, I just lost it. We were a few minutes late because I stopped at the restroom in an attempt to get it together but quickly realized that with each passing moment, I could literally feel the hysteria working it's way up my throat and it wasn't going to get better with a few minutes of crying in a restroom. We went inside and I struggled through a brief check-in. Our favorite nurse came out to speak with us the waiting room (somehow, the receptionist had gotten the idea that I wanted to reschedule?) and I let her know that today was the day - I would be a mess whether we did it now, an hour from now or three weeks from now.
It was the same room where we received Aaron's diagnosis and I can not even begin to describe the intense panic of walking back into that room, sitting on the table and waiting to see the images that would appear. Even as I sit here typing, my body is nearly vibrating with the emotions that I can do nothing to quell.
She was able to point out almost immediately the baby's full, round head with two neatly defined lobes - no anencephaly. What an amazing blessing as we got to hear that tiny heartbeat for the first time and see little arms and legs flailing around. I struggled not to jerk around too much as I worked through the tears of joy.
Then, as she was finishing up the ultrasound, she asked if we had done any genetic testing after Aaron was born. We had not. She asked if we had done any yet this pregnancy. No. Then asked if we were planning to do any. No...but what do you see that is making you ask so many questions?? She informed us that she was seeing an increased nuchal translucency, one that was nearly twice what would be considered "within normal limits." (Simple explanation is this: nuchal translucency is a measurement of the fluid present behind the neck of the baby; it is an indicator of risk for several genetic conditions including Trisomies 13,18, 21 and Turner Syndrome. It warrants follow-up testing.) She went to speak with the doctor and since we had an appointment with her that day anyway, she led us to the exam room and we waited to talk with her.
The information was basically what I already knew - what was seen on the ultrasound was not a definitive diagnosis but was a risk factor for a number of things. They would be calling for a consultation within a week with the same Maternal-Fetal Medicine specialist that we saw to confirm Aaron's diagnosis. His office called a few hours later to set up an appointment in seven days for a Level 3 ultrasound and a consultation with the specialist.
For those seven days, we lived in a kind of limbo that would be hard to describe. Our options ranged anywhere from "Your child has another, totally-unrelated fatal birth defect" to "Your baby might be perfectly healthy without a thing in the world wrong" and everything in-between. With Aaron, the diagnosis was definitive from that first ultrasound...there was little room for doubt. We began grieving for him almost immediately - those were pretty clear feelings of loss. This time, we weren't really allowed to feel anything other than terrified at the prospect of burying another child.
I'm going to cheat a little for this entry and do some reflection on the week following that first ultrasound. I simply could not bring myself to sit down and write during that time...no matter how much I knew I needed to, the words just would not come. And although we are now past this part of our journey, I want to put all those feelings into words before they begin to fade.
I barely slept at all the night before our first ultrasound. Even though I knew there was nothing I could do to change the outcome of whatever was going to happen, I was nervous. We had already made the decision that the girls would be staying with my parents that night instead of coming with us to the ultrasound (to be fair, we had not yet told anyone other than a few close friends about the pregnancy). I could not stomach the thought of them being in the room if we were to once again receive devastating news.
I did reasonably well on the way to the doctor's office, but as we stepped off of the elevator and prepared to walk in, I just lost it. We were a few minutes late because I stopped at the restroom in an attempt to get it together but quickly realized that with each passing moment, I could literally feel the hysteria working it's way up my throat and it wasn't going to get better with a few minutes of crying in a restroom. We went inside and I struggled through a brief check-in. Our favorite nurse came out to speak with us the waiting room (somehow, the receptionist had gotten the idea that I wanted to reschedule?) and I let her know that today was the day - I would be a mess whether we did it now, an hour from now or three weeks from now.
It was the same room where we received Aaron's diagnosis and I can not even begin to describe the intense panic of walking back into that room, sitting on the table and waiting to see the images that would appear. Even as I sit here typing, my body is nearly vibrating with the emotions that I can do nothing to quell.
She was able to point out almost immediately the baby's full, round head with two neatly defined lobes - no anencephaly. What an amazing blessing as we got to hear that tiny heartbeat for the first time and see little arms and legs flailing around. I struggled not to jerk around too much as I worked through the tears of joy.
Then, as she was finishing up the ultrasound, she asked if we had done any genetic testing after Aaron was born. We had not. She asked if we had done any yet this pregnancy. No. Then asked if we were planning to do any. No...but what do you see that is making you ask so many questions?? She informed us that she was seeing an increased nuchal translucency, one that was nearly twice what would be considered "within normal limits." (Simple explanation is this: nuchal translucency is a measurement of the fluid present behind the neck of the baby; it is an indicator of risk for several genetic conditions including Trisomies 13,18, 21 and Turner Syndrome. It warrants follow-up testing.) She went to speak with the doctor and since we had an appointment with her that day anyway, she led us to the exam room and we waited to talk with her.
The information was basically what I already knew - what was seen on the ultrasound was not a definitive diagnosis but was a risk factor for a number of things. They would be calling for a consultation within a week with the same Maternal-Fetal Medicine specialist that we saw to confirm Aaron's diagnosis. His office called a few hours later to set up an appointment in seven days for a Level 3 ultrasound and a consultation with the specialist.
For those seven days, we lived in a kind of limbo that would be hard to describe. Our options ranged anywhere from "Your child has another, totally-unrelated fatal birth defect" to "Your baby might be perfectly healthy without a thing in the world wrong" and everything in-between. With Aaron, the diagnosis was definitive from that first ultrasound...there was little room for doubt. We began grieving for him almost immediately - those were pretty clear feelings of loss. This time, we weren't really allowed to feel anything other than terrified at the prospect of burying another child.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Looking Back: Our Pregnancy and The Girls
This post was also written on 7/15/13 - before we were ready to announce this pregnancy.
We have had the discussion regarding, "What will we do if this happens again?" Despite all that we have been through, we would make exactly the same decision that we made with Aaron. My biggest fear here is not what it would do to me or to Chris, but what that means for our children. We have not yet told the girls that we are having another baby, but that doesn't mean that the topic hasn't come up.
Abby started it...about a day after this new life began to exist, she climbed up on top of me on the couch and asked about the babies in my tummy. I told her that there weren't any babies in Mommy's tummy and reminded her that Baby Aaron was in Heaven...but the kid was insistent that there was "a boy and a girl in your tummy!" Honestly, I told Chris about it that night and we sort of dismissed it from there. About two weeks later, on a Saturday morning as I was changing after work, Abby came running in, slapped both hands on my belly and yelled, "A boy and a girl in your tummy!! Babies in 'nere!" At that point, it really wouldn't have been time to take a test but I thought I'd humor myself and give it a shot. Sure enough, it was almost instantly obviously positive. We'll know more in a few days at our ultrasound...but apparently she knew something was up.
Then about a week ago, we had a much less enjoyable discussion with Tori. I'm not even quite sure how the discussion came up, but I think it started because she was upset that God doesn't talk back to her when she talks to him. That must have led into talking about Baby Aaron being in Heaven which prompted Tori to tell us that she wanted "a new brother or sister that gets to come home and stay here with us." I think that was one of those moments where I could actually feel a little piece of me die on the inside...to hear an expression of such complete heartbreak and clarity from a four-year old is not something that I will soon forget. We told her that we would do everything we could to have a healthy brother or sister for her sometime soon. She got very excited and said "I want one to keep and not one in Heaven like Baby Aaron, ok?!"
I simply don't know what challenges lie ahead when it comes to this pregnancy and the girls. I have a feeling that we are going to somehow have to balance alleviating their fears without offering them too much promise that "things will be okay." At this point, we know better. We have lost a child and I have talked with countless other parents who have also lost a child. We have entered that realm where a healthy baby is no longer something that we take for granted...it is something we hope and pray for, something we wait anxiously for, but something we no longer feel is a guarantee. We don't want to offer them promises of a healthy newborn that we are not in control of providing...we can do everything in our power to try to make that happen, but even then there is no way we can ever control for every variable.
That is the whole issue we, and the girls, are facing right now. We have seen firsthand that even when you do everything right, you aren't guaranteed a happy outcome. I know that Wednesday's ultrasound will help ease our mind at least a little, but it won't guarantee that everything will be okay. No one can do that. Please please don't try to tell me in the coming months that you are "sure everything is going to be okay." I know that your intentions will be good, but they are empty words because you have no idea what else to say. It's okay...neither do we.
We have had the discussion regarding, "What will we do if this happens again?" Despite all that we have been through, we would make exactly the same decision that we made with Aaron. My biggest fear here is not what it would do to me or to Chris, but what that means for our children. We have not yet told the girls that we are having another baby, but that doesn't mean that the topic hasn't come up.
Abby started it...about a day after this new life began to exist, she climbed up on top of me on the couch and asked about the babies in my tummy. I told her that there weren't any babies in Mommy's tummy and reminded her that Baby Aaron was in Heaven...but the kid was insistent that there was "a boy and a girl in your tummy!" Honestly, I told Chris about it that night and we sort of dismissed it from there. About two weeks later, on a Saturday morning as I was changing after work, Abby came running in, slapped both hands on my belly and yelled, "A boy and a girl in your tummy!! Babies in 'nere!" At that point, it really wouldn't have been time to take a test but I thought I'd humor myself and give it a shot. Sure enough, it was almost instantly obviously positive. We'll know more in a few days at our ultrasound...but apparently she knew something was up.
Then about a week ago, we had a much less enjoyable discussion with Tori. I'm not even quite sure how the discussion came up, but I think it started because she was upset that God doesn't talk back to her when she talks to him. That must have led into talking about Baby Aaron being in Heaven which prompted Tori to tell us that she wanted "a new brother or sister that gets to come home and stay here with us." I think that was one of those moments where I could actually feel a little piece of me die on the inside...to hear an expression of such complete heartbreak and clarity from a four-year old is not something that I will soon forget. We told her that we would do everything we could to have a healthy brother or sister for her sometime soon. She got very excited and said "I want one to keep and not one in Heaven like Baby Aaron, ok?!"
I simply don't know what challenges lie ahead when it comes to this pregnancy and the girls. I have a feeling that we are going to somehow have to balance alleviating their fears without offering them too much promise that "things will be okay." At this point, we know better. We have lost a child and I have talked with countless other parents who have also lost a child. We have entered that realm where a healthy baby is no longer something that we take for granted...it is something we hope and pray for, something we wait anxiously for, but something we no longer feel is a guarantee. We don't want to offer them promises of a healthy newborn that we are not in control of providing...we can do everything in our power to try to make that happen, but even then there is no way we can ever control for every variable.
That is the whole issue we, and the girls, are facing right now. We have seen firsthand that even when you do everything right, you aren't guaranteed a happy outcome. I know that Wednesday's ultrasound will help ease our mind at least a little, but it won't guarantee that everything will be okay. No one can do that. Please please don't try to tell me in the coming months that you are "sure everything is going to be okay." I know that your intentions will be good, but they are empty words because you have no idea what else to say. It's okay...neither do we.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Our Ultrasound
We knew I was pregnant even before the test came back positive; so really there wasn't much surprise there. But we had planned to wait a little longer to have our third child because our life had been so hectic in the previous few months; we thought it would be best to let things settle a little. God apparently had other plans. That was ok; we had about a week of panic, then began to get excited. As I think is probably the case with most third pregnancies, I was so busy with our other two girls and life in general that it wasn't until I started to feel the baby moving that I was really able to start connecting with this new little life. I really began to look forward to our 20 week ultrasound and finding out if we would be adding a baby brother or baby sister to the mix. (T was adamant that she wanted a baby sister and I had to admit it would be easier since we already had all the pinks and purples, but at the same time a son would have been great too.)
We got to the ultrasound early Tuesday, both girls in tow with promises of seeing their new brother or sister on the TV screen. Things started off normally enough with the tech showing us what a nice long leg the baby had...but Chris and I both noticed that this ultrasound just somehow looked different than the ones we were used to. After about ten minutes, the tech abruptly said "I'll be right back" and stepped out of the room. Obviously panic sets in about that time and you begin to wonder what could be wrong...strangely, the only thought I had was "anencephaly." (It had been featured on one of "our shows," Private Practice, last season and for some reason that stuck in my head.) Our doctor came in, looked over the tech's shoulders and after a few minutes of watching her nod, she confirmed what the tech suspected and what I think I already knew. She said the most devastating words I have ever heard, "The baby has what's called 'anencephaly' which means that the back of the skull and the forebrain just haven't developed. It's like a really really severe case of spina bifida. It's not compatible with life, or any quality of life after birth." I'm sure that is a bit of a paraphrase because I kind of started to shut down, but that was the gist.
Like anyone who receives that type of diagnosis, my first thought was "Oh my God, what did I do wrong? I know I didn't do a good job of taking my vitamins, was that it?" When I asked, she replied with "There is absolutely nothing you did wrong, maybe taking vitamins two or three months ahead of time would have helped, maybe not. I have people who smoke and drink Mountain Dew and eat Twinkies their entire pregnancy and their babies are fine. You didn't cause this." That, however, is a battle I think I'll be fighting for a while.
We got to the ultrasound early Tuesday, both girls in tow with promises of seeing their new brother or sister on the TV screen. Things started off normally enough with the tech showing us what a nice long leg the baby had...but Chris and I both noticed that this ultrasound just somehow looked different than the ones we were used to. After about ten minutes, the tech abruptly said "I'll be right back" and stepped out of the room. Obviously panic sets in about that time and you begin to wonder what could be wrong...strangely, the only thought I had was "anencephaly." (It had been featured on one of "our shows," Private Practice, last season and for some reason that stuck in my head.) Our doctor came in, looked over the tech's shoulders and after a few minutes of watching her nod, she confirmed what the tech suspected and what I think I already knew. She said the most devastating words I have ever heard, "The baby has what's called 'anencephaly' which means that the back of the skull and the forebrain just haven't developed. It's like a really really severe case of spina bifida. It's not compatible with life, or any quality of life after birth." I'm sure that is a bit of a paraphrase because I kind of started to shut down, but that was the gist.
Like anyone who receives that type of diagnosis, my first thought was "Oh my God, what did I do wrong? I know I didn't do a good job of taking my vitamins, was that it?" When I asked, she replied with "There is absolutely nothing you did wrong, maybe taking vitamins two or three months ahead of time would have helped, maybe not. I have people who smoke and drink Mountain Dew and eat Twinkies their entire pregnancy and their babies are fine. You didn't cause this." That, however, is a battle I think I'll be fighting for a while.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)