"Worst Case Scenario"

Things have been so crazy and hectic this week that I have totally neglected the blog. (I’m sure you’ve all been waiting on the edge of your seat for my next post, right?)

Today I’m about 13.5 weeks…the first trimester is OVER…yeah!! I honestly can’t complain…I’ve had a very easy pregnancy so far…I think Baby H is having mercy on me because of everything I’ve been through in the last couple years!

We did have a bit of a scare at our 12 week appointment, though. We were only supposed to hear the heartbeat with the Doppler—no ultrasound was scheduled. It was going to be a quick 15-minute in and out appointment, and we were told the only way we’d have an ultrasound is in the worst-case scenario of not being able to find the heartbeat.

Our appointment was scheduled for 4pm—and we sat in the waiting room until about 4:30. We were finally brought to an exam room and sat for another 15 minutes before the midwife finally came into the room. She said my blood pressure was “a little high” and I had to bite my tongue…..after arriving 15 minutes early for the appointment and then waiting 45 minutes to even be seen—I was obviously a little irritated! (I’m not the most patient person in the world when it comes to waiting….)

Anyway—she sat and talked to us for about 10 minutes and answered all of our questions. We hadn’t seen her before, but really liked her. She was older, sweet, and very understanding and kind. She’s technically a midwife, and does not perform deliveries.

She got out the Doppler, jellied my stomach up, and as I laid as still as possible—I found myself holding my breath. She told me not to panic if she didn’t find anything right away because at 12 weeks, the baby is quite active and hard to pinpoint.

Static.

That’s all we heard. For about 3 minutes, that’s all we heard.

She suggested that I go pee and come back and try again. I did, and again….all we heard was static.

I could tell she was getting nervous—which made me nervous. I kept glancing at Casey and his eyes were so calm. He just kept nodding at me, as if to silently say “It’s ok—everything will be ok.”

The midwife recommended that we go in the other exam room and try an ultrasound. I flashed back to an earlier appointment when we were told the only way we’d have an ultrasound at our 12 week appointment would be if it was the “worst-case scenario”. This is it—I thought to myself. Worst-case scenario.

As I laid on the exam table and was jellied up once again, I almost had to remind myself to breathe. As I stared at the monitor in front of me—I saw nothing.

A gray screen.

No baby. No heartbeat. Just a gray screen.

My eyes darted back and forth from the screen to the face of the midwife—concentrating and looking as if she was going to pass out herself. She started moving the ultrasound “wand” frantically, desperately trying to find anything at all.

In that very moment, I flashed back to the Fall of 2010, when I suffered a miscarriage. A gray screen….that’s all I saw then, too…..

The midwife announced that she was relatively new with that machine, and was going to see if another “more experienced” doctor was still there. As she left the room, I looked at Casey and felt my eyes well up with tears and I felt so helpless and scared. Again, his eyes were so calm and even though I know he was scared—there was no way, in that moment, that he was going to show me that he was. At least one of us needed to be strong, and it certainly wasn’t about to be me.

A few very long minutes later, a doctor walked in that we’d seen in the past and loved. She walked over to me and put her hand on me—so reassuringly--and said “lets find this little guy”.

Within 3 seconds of looking (and pressing much harder and lower than the previous woman), our perfect little baby popped up on the screen and the whoosh of the heartbeat filled my ears.

It was as if every fiber in my body relaxed then the tears started to flow. Happy tears, of course.

The midwife apologized repeatedly and looked like she was about to pass out. I imagine the only thing worse than suffering a miscarriage is being the person who has to tell you that you’ve miscarried—and I honestly think she thought she was going to be that person.

We were able to get 2 beautiful pictures including the one you may have seen in a previous post—of Baby H waving, as if to say “I’m ok, I promise!”

Needless to say—that appointment was long, stressful, exhausting, and physically and emotionally draining. I spent most of that evening sitting on the couch with my hand on my stomach—so thankful that Baby H was still nestled in there, strong as can be.

Sorry for the novel….maybe I should write a book instead of a blog! :)