Week 16 arrived out of nowhere. As I drove to my appointment yesterday, I had a lot of time to ponder life and all that it holds for us right now. Usually Thomn and I are chatting in the car, but he wasn’t able to go yesterday, and more often than not, I am answering an onslaught of three-year-old questions. Which might be, my very favorite kinds of questions. But yesterday I found myself alone driving along with the mere thoughts in my mind and it dawned on me that I have been so busy and so rarely alone with my own thoughts that I haven’t had a lot of real time to process the possibility of loss with this baby. We’ve had reassuring appointments one after another and so close together this time that thoughts of the baby slipped away until I was answering one of the many three-year-old questions that pertain to the baby in my belly. Three-year-old questions typically evolve very quickly and take your mind in a completely different direction – so I stayed in this happy neutral place of feeling like Flicker was okay mixed with horrible nausea that left me fighting to keep my water down.
When I arrived at the doctor’s office and settled into a room with the nurse, I agreed to see a medical student. For the most part, I feel that they need to have every opportunity to learn – just not when I am on the operating table. The medical student came into the room and began to go through the routine of asking questions. How am I feeling? Am I taking anything for my nausea? What questions do I have for her? Etc. Until finally she got around to the fetal doppler to listen to the heartbeat. I laid on the table just waiting to her the fast thrum of a heartbeat. The one that catches your breath and brings a tear to your eye because in that moment its hard to fathom that your body created this musical sound. But the sound never came. Textbook style the medical student nonchalantly told me that she would have the doctor come in to find it for me and that she was sure everything was just fine. But I wasn’t fine. If she would have read through the pages of history in my chart, she would know that I wasn’t fine. Going back just a few pages in my history you can see loss after loss and also years of infertility. With the recent birth of T4 – the fear and heartache of losing a child during pregnancy is not erased.
And in that split second the world fell away. Have I been so caught up in my day to day life that I chose to look past my own history? Would I find out today that this is my 6th miscarriage? My heart began its own dreadful thump as I waited to hear footsteps approach.
My doctor came in and began searching with the doppler, and to say I trust her with every bone in my body is an understatement, so when she asked the medical student to get the ultrasound the tears began to fall. The familiar ache that I have felt too many times began in my chest, as the river silently streamed down the side of my face. Until I heard it. The faintest of thrumming – too fast to be own thudding heart. She assured me that was our baby and we were going to look on the ultrasound just so I could see them with my own eyes. And there they were – wriggling and flipping too fast to catch the heartbeat well on the ultrasound either. But it didn’t matter – our baby is alive.
I drove home wondering if I have taken this baby for granted – and the answer is probably. After we saw a heartbeat for multiple weeks in a row I began planning for their arrival and pushed aside the feelings of caution that typically accompany my every step in pregnancy. It’s easy to get caught up in the day to day life with two toddlers, but Flicker, I promise you this; we will never take you for granted again. You may not be the true definition of a rainbow baby, bringing light to our world after a loss, but in so many ways you will still be our rainbow baby. We have had enough loss in our lives that the light you will bring us will be unending and something we will appreciate for all the days of our lives.
