It’s 1 a.m., and I am awake coughing, sneezing, and feeling pretty crummy. As I am laying snuggly on the couch in hopes for Dan to get some rest, I can not help but think about the last 24 hours. We had a big appointment at the doctor yesterday, most commonly called the anatomy ultrasound. A few weeks ago, we found out that we are having a baby boy, but he was not big enough at time to do all the measurements to make sure that he was/is growing strong and healthy.
This appointment is typically an exciting one where most people find out the gender of their baby and head home to celebrate the happy news. Some plan a gender reveal party to share with the people that they love the new joy of knowing whether to think pink or blue, others choose to keep it close and not share the gender, and some never even know what they’re having until after birth. Never say never, but I do not think that I could wait roughly 40 weeks to know what we were having. Props to those of you who can!
With Mary Anna, we did not have any set plans on how to share her gender with our people, but that ultrasound day was a highly anticipated day that ended with lots of heartache. I remember the ultrasound lady doing her measurements, and then slowly turning to us and saying something to the tune of, “Well there are a few findings….”, and I really just remember bursting into tears and thinking this was supposed to be a happy day, and I truly wanted to crawl into a hole for a few days at that moment. She told us after all the scary news that it was a baby girl, and then we sat in the waiting area waiting to meet with our doctor. We left the office after the appointment ended, and we wanted to celebrate, but we felt very robbed.
I remember thinking to myself how in the world am I going to answer all of these texts and phone calls from all the people that we love dearly and tell them this news. We decided to share that our angel was a baby girl, and to wait out the rest of the concerns until we had a second opinion. We had a few prayer warriors praying, but that is all our hearts could handle at the moment, and you know how the story goes on…
Needless to say my heart stops at each appointment with our growing little man. I have a hard time processing good news, and at times I feel guilty for being relieved that he is healthy. My heart is constantly feeling a deep low or an intense high. After our first ultrasound where we found out the gender, I was relived to know that he was okay, but deep down I thought to myself that surely when he gets bigger, then they will find some rare finding and slap us with it.
Yesterday we walked back into the building where we had ultrasound after ultrasound, and ultimately welcomed and said goodbye to our baby girl. Dan had not been back there yet, and I had only been once for the previous ultrasound. He took a deep breath, and I could see the pain in his eyes. We turned the corner to get on the elevator, and we both began to softly cry, because there was a picture of a baby in the NICU, and it looked so much like our Mary Anna.
We walked into the elevator, hugged each other, and we said to each other without saying it, that we were in this together. D quietly whispered, “I am proud of you and I love you”, and I told him the same back.
He gives me strength.
We went through the appointment, and one of the doctors who did Mary Anna’s echocardiogram before she was born was who we were seeing, and he realized quickly who we were. He told us they he was shocked at what happened, and that he had never seen a baby with such a healthy heart that had Trisomy 18, and that in fact, he would have never guessed that we would have lost her. That was a hard pill to swallow. He began our little fellow’s ultrasound, and he ended it with, “Well, he is healthy, and there are no concerns, and I hope to send y’all home with a healthy boy this time.” He smiled, we chatted a bit, and we were all done.
We got in the car and both cried again tears of immense joy and deep sorrow. We turned the corner around the building, and D reminded me which hospital window was Mary Anna’s. My only words were, “I am so glad he is healthy, but why did Mary Anna have to be sick?”. Dan and I were, and typically are, on the same wave length, and we slowly began to process that in 20 weeks or less, we will be parents of two, and Lord willing, we will be finally bringing a baby home after a 2 1/2 year journey with lots of pain.
I am sure this rotten cold that has me still writing at 2 a.m. has nothing to do with my anxious and fearful heart,
As we went to bed last night, Dan reminded me of the verse of the day for March 13.
And we know that in ALL things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
And as I lay here on March 14, the 8 month anniversary of precious Mary Anna, I cannot help but know that God is and will continue to work for the good in her life, in our baby boys life, and indeed in our lives.
We miss you dearly, and we will never stop loving you fully. You will always be an amazing big sister that will be able to teach all of your siblings far more things than your daddy and I can. I wish that you were snuggling with me on the couch, but instead you are at the throne of Jesus, oh how I envy you. You would be a precious 8 month old today, and I just miss you so much.
You are strong, and you are a fighter just like your big sister. I cannot wait for you to be here and fill us with so much joy. We might be a little over protective at times, but we love you more than you will ever know. You are prayed for little man, and you are coming into a world full of people that love you and cherish you. And I hope you look just like your daddy like your sister did!
All praise be to the King of Kings for he gives and takes away.