Monday, September 13, 2010

Carrying an Angel . . . Again?



After viewing out sweet little baby at our eight week ultrasound, it seemed like nothing could touch us. I even posted on Facebook, “Look at our HEALTHY baby.” Presumptuous? Maybe. I know from experience that a good looking eight week ultrasound with a perfect heart beat is no indication of whether or not you'll bring that baby home.

We named our little one Tater Tot after hearing a character on General Hospital (our favorite show) refer to baby Josslyn Jax as “Carly and Jax's little tater tot.” I am really glad that we gave our baby this special name. It helped me make a distinction between the new baby and Gabriel, as we never referred to Gabriel as our tater tot. It was hard for me to separate the two, partly because I told myself I couldn't make the distinction, and partly because Gabriel was inside of me such a short time ago that I felt like he was right back with me. There were a few times when I even caught myself talking about Tater Tot in my mind, and I accidentally called him Gaby. That's okay, though, isn't it? Doesn't every mother mix up her kids' names?

We loved Tater Tot. We talked to Tater Tot. We set our hopes and dreams on Tater Tot. I told him/her every day that I couldn't wait to hold him and kiss him and nurse him. I was never going to let him/her go. I wouldn't have to. No one was going to come and get him and take him away from me and say I could never see him ever, ever again like they did with Gabriel.

This pregnancy was perfect, perfect that is until I just smiled a few too many times. I couldn't have been more excited to go to our 11 week ultrasound. We were going just for fun, just because the nurse practitioner said she would schedule an ultrasound if I wanted her to. “Okay!” I said.

We showed Judy, Gaby Baby's favorite sonographer, Tater Tot's eight week ultrasound photo that was taken at the fertility clinic and told her all about his/her dancing and arm waving. She wanted to see for herself, so she inserted the probe to do a vaginal scan because we weren't quite far enough along yet for a belly ultrasound. It took a few seconds to adjust the image on the screen, then it took a few more seconds to adjust the image so that we could really believe what we were seeing – Tater Tot just lying there, completely lifeless with no heartbeat, no dancing or arm waving. Judy hung her head sadly.

“No!” I jerked away from her and away from the probe that was telling the lie about my baby.

“Guys,” Judy shook her head. “There's no heartbeat.”

“Judy,” I protested. “I am fine! I am fine. There is nothing wrong with me.”

“I'm going to go get the doctor and have her come and look. Would that help?” she asked.

“I know what I see. I'm not stupid,” I retaliated again to a woman who couldn't be any nicer to us but was always in the unfortunate position of telling us the worst news of our lives.

When Dr. Leinenbach walked in the room, I began to try to convince her that I was fine, tried to get her on my side, as if that could change the unavoidable truth. Judy inserted the probe again for Dr. Leinenbach to see. The doctor asked me if I saw a difference from my last ultrasound. I could tell she thought I was going off the deep end. I told her I could see the problem was that there was no difference. My baby was the same size as he/she was three weeks ago but this time with no heartbeat and no movement. I couldn't help myself, though. I kept telling her that I was fine, that I really was pregnant. If my baby was dead, I would know about it.

I got dressed and went into her office. A year ago Skyler and I sat in her office and cried because she told us she suspected our baby had a lethal chromosomal anomaly - something that was “incompatible with life.” Today, we listened while she told us that we needed to find out if a chromosome defect was why this baby had already left us. The only way to do that was to perform a D&C (Dilation & Curettage.). This would allow her to get the baby's remains to pathology and hopefully find some answers. Besides, eventually I would start miscarrying on my own and likely require a D&C anyway.

“But this is Gaby's baby!” I buried my head in my hands and cried as the awful realization of the day hit me. My miracle is gone. Gabriel's brother or sister is gone. The little person that I have been desperate for for months is gone. My reason for not giving up is gone. My chance to have a part of Gaby Baby back in my arms is gone.

*** Top pic is Mommy and Tater Tot 10 weeks pregnant. Bottom pic is Tater Tot's 11 week ultrasound picture. "Night-night, Tater Tot."

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