Everything Changed

December 4, 2006.

We went in for a {regular} 16 week check up hoping we might get lucky and find out the sex a little early. Everything had been picture perfect so far, we had no reason for concern. That quickly changed. The doc's mood slowly changed as he was performing the ultrasound. He didn't seem {too} concerned, but concern was there nonetheless. Maybe he was just being guarded. Not sure. But he told us there was "some fluid around the head and some behind the ears." My first thought... "Fluid around the head? Isn't his or her entire head surrounded by fluid?" The wording just didn't make since to me. He said it could turn out to be nothing but that we would need to see a specialist with better equipment to determine if there was a legit problem. Okay, fine. We would go to a specialist in a couple of days. It would turn out to be nothing. My faith was high. I had just gotten all cleaned up from the lovely jelly they plop on your belly when the doctor came back in. He informed us that he had made us an appointment with the specialist and we were to head over there right away. What?! Right away?! My faith suddenly came crashing down. {Now} I was worried.

On the way to the other doctor, whose name I can't even recall (is that bad?),we were busy praying, and making phone calls to our family asking them to pray. I {tried} to put on a brave face, or voice in this case, and tell them it was no big deal and could easily turn out to be nothing. I tried my hardest to believe the words that were coming out of my own mouth. I wasn't very convincing.

We sat in an awkward silence mixed with the slightest bit of small talk while we waited in the waiting room. We were both scared, nervous and praying. Neither of us had the words to say. What do you say in that situation anyway? We were finally called back and met the doctor. Still don't remember his name. Thick accent, salt and pepper hair...yeah that's all I've got for ya. He was nice enough, I suppose. Very professional and not very personable, but not rude. Just very matter of fact. His super thick accent didn't help things. He dealt with high risk pregnancies and genetic disorders all day, every day. He came across very {calloused} and accustom to this process, but again, not rude.

The room was dimly lit, making it hard to remember much about it. There was the table/chair thingy you lay on, high tech ultrasound equipment, a couple of chairs, a long row of counters and counter tops, along with a TV monitor. The monitor mirrored what was on the ultrasound screen so I could see it without getting a crick in my neck. The room itself made me sad. It wasn't a place I would have ever pictured myself and it certainly wasn't a place I wanted to be. But it would be a place I would become very familiar with over the next several months. The doctor came back in and turned off the lights, making the already dimly lit room seem pitch black. The only light came from the two screens. Creepy. Scott stood by my head and held my hand as the doctor began the ultrasound. He took his time, took lots of measurements, and was very quiet. {Too} quiet. He finally broke his silence and began to talk about everything he saw. He confirmed what Dr. S had told us about the fluid. There was fluid on the baby's brain and some behind the ears. He also noted that the arms and legs were measuring a bit small. He then informed us that we would have (I'll get into that more later) to have an amniocentesis to determine what was really going on. He wanted to schedule it for the next day, which happened to be my birthday. Not happening. So we scheduled it for the sixth instead.

And thus began a whirlwind of testing on this new journey we had now been thrust down.