Monday, March 12, 2018

Just wait (part 1)

Darkness. Crying. Questioning. More crying. How did this happen? What did I do wrong to cause this? Will the baby be ok? What about John and I, can we do this? Will this kid know us? Will this child love us? Will Johnny and David feel neglected? Will I ever smile and laugh again? What is going to change?

One year ago today, was our Diagnosis day. It played out in a fortuitous manner. I thought I had the ultrasound on a Monday, so I had arranged for my mom to come sit with the two older boys at our house while I ran to the OB, had the ultrasound done and then came right back. We weren't going to find out the gender and this was the third kiddo, so I didn't feel like it was going to be an eventful day and I was fine to just go alone. When I got to the office to check in, they didn't have my appointment in their schedule. They didn't have any record of me making my 20 week appointment/ultrasound. How is that possible, you make the next appointment as you leave from each appointment. I don't understand how it happened, but I am appreciative it went down like that. I went home with an appointment to come back on Wednesday. For some reason, on Wednesday, my mom decided to come with me and we brought both older boys. For this, I am thankful. I am glad that I didn't face this day alone and even though, I am sure, my mom remembers the day differently and probably feels that she didn't do much, I can't imagine being there by myself when it all went down. I was excited to let the soon to be big brothers see a picture of their younger sibling and help them to understand more of what was happening inside mommy's big ol' belly (I would love to say it wasn't that big yet, but let's be honest...big 'ol is probably a nice way of describing the bump at this time). During the ultrasound, we were lighthearted, joking around and not really paying attention. The tech asked us if we wanted to know the gender and since we didn't, we should turn away. It is crystal clear in my mind. Johnny had on a red shirt and wanted to hold hands with me while they were rubbing my belly with the wand. Even now recounting that day and moment makes my stomach turn and takes my breath away. The tech was not joking around with us, she did not seem to interact with my beyond adorable boys, which is odd because they are hilarious (crazy, but hilarious). Side note, I am not biased. I remember thinking she was quiet, but didn't think much of it. When we were all done, she left the room quickly and it definitely caught my attention. She came back in after what was probably 2 minutes, but felt like an hour, and said the doctor needed to talk to me and would I want to do it alone or with my boys and mom. My knees buckled and immediately tears began to form. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. She walked us down the hall to a different room. There was no hiding my tears. We sat in the different room for who knows how long. I couldn't catch my breath. Johnny asked me why I was crying, was I hurt? Was I sad? I just hugged him close, I didn't know what to say to my 3 year old. Yes I was hurt, yes I was sad. So I just hugged him and tried to breathe. Finally, he very solemnly admitted that he had to use the bathroom. He was just recently potty trained and he didn't quite know how to hold it long enough for us to wait for the doctor first. So my mom took both boys and went to the potty. While she was gone, the doctor came in. For some reason, I remember being able to control myself while she spoke. She sat directly next to me and leaned close as she spoke, like she was saying something shameful. They saw something on the ultrasound, the baby had an opening in the spine. It is called spina bifida. Had I heard of it? It is permanently disabling. They want me to go to a specialist to learn more. My mom came back in with the boys and I, once again, lost my marbles. I asked the doctor to explain it again because I couldn't form words to say it out loud. She explained it again to my mom. Once again, Johnny was beside me asking me what was wrong, why was I crying. We eventually walked out through the waiting area and I was very aware of all the eyes on me as it was clear I couldn't pull myself together. I was the person in that room that everyone was glad they weren't. I was the cautionary tale that things can go wrong. I remember getting to the car and somehow loading the boys in and I told my mom that I wanted to drive, I needed to be in control of something. I needed to have to think about something other than what was happening. It was very surreal and I was hoping to wake up from this nightmare at any moment. I laid my head on the steering wheel and gave myself a pep talk. Get home. Just get home. Get your boys back to their toys and their safe place so they will stop worrying about you. Drive. Once we got home and after my mom had called John at work, I escaped to my room and curled into a ball and allowed myself to completely crumble. I have never cried like I cried then. I distinctly remember shaking uncontrollably, thinking I couldn't stop. How was this going to end? Will I cry here, like this, forever? I felt sick, not nauseous, not a headache, just sick, like my body was failing me. I remember feeling betrayed that my body couldn't do what it was supposed to do. My job in this deal is to make and carry a healthy baby and I was unable to do it. Every mom wonders if they will be able to do the mom thing, no matter what number pregnancy it is, if they will be good enough. If they will be the mom they always pictured themselves being. I felt that the glaring answer to this, for me, was a loud and definitive, 'NO'! I had already let down my baby. This was the darkest and worst morning of my life. I will always remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday. I don't regret all the feelings I had that day. I don't regret the sadness and the grief. I had to go through all of that. But if I could say one thing to that me, if I could get a message back to diagnosis day Sarah, it would be....just wait....