Skip to main content

3/5 The First Bad News

March 5, 2018 | 18 1/2 weeks

In December, we discovered that we were expecting again, due Aug 2, but this did not carry the same joyful tune that it once did for us. After 6 uneventful pregnancies, giving us our 6 beautiful children, we experienced 2 losses last year. It was a really hard time for us. The pain and sorrow that I felt at the death of an unborn child was not at the same level as that of the death of a grown child, but still, I got a taste of that heartache. I know life goes on, and the loss of a child makes us more thankful for the ones that are here, but the memories linger and the pain resurfaces. It hurts, no matter how old the child is.

Being pregnant again brought mixed feelings. Feelings of joy & excitement, of course, but so often in the early months, those feelings of joy were overshadowed by a feeling of uncertainty. I was so worried that this one would be a miscarriage, too. In my anxiousness, I developed a habit of checking for blood every time I went to the bathroom, day or night. Every single time. I had to force myself not to check anymore. There was a time in January when I suddenly stopped feeling pregnancy symptoms, and I was convinced that the baby had died, but an early ultrasound instead showed a little baby with a strong heartbeat wiggling around inside of me. Still, though, it was hard for me share that we are expecting again.

A couple of subsequent appointments & good bloodwork results at 16 weeks all pointed to really good signs, and I was finally feeling less apprehensive about the baby & more comfortable sharing. In February, I sent out an announcement to friends and family, and I began to tell people in person, too (and I was beginning to show).

We went into my 18-week anatomy scan excited to see our baby up on the screen again and excited to find out whether we were having a boy or a girl. Our last 2 babies were surprises, and we wanted to find out this time. Our plan was to keep the news to ourselves for a month and then do a big reveal to family on Easter Sunday.

I remember on the way to the ultrasound, mentioning to Aaron that I thought I should be feeling more flutters by now, but I wasn't prepared for the bad news we were about to hear.

Once we were in the ultrasound room & all set up, we expected a cheerful, "ooh, there's baby" but instead the first question the ultrasound tech asked me was, "Are you leaking amniotic fluid?" Um, no, not that I was aware of... After that was complete silence. I finally just plain asked whether or not there was a heartbeat. There was, but it wasn't a great heartbeat: there was some fluid around the heart. Legally, the ultrasound tech couldn't give me much information, but from what I gathered, baby was measuring smaller than expected, there was less fluid than expected, and there was a little bit of fluid around the heart. She had my midwife consult with me before I left, and I was told further that it looked like there was something wrong with baby's kidneys in addition to the other things. I was charged to rest, hydrate with alkaline-electrolyte water, and see Dr. Devore, a perinatologist & maternal fetal medicine expert.

That was my first time ever having bad news at an ultrasound. We went home disappointed, but hopeful. As soon as I had a chance, I googled what I knew and tried to read up on and prepare myself for whatever condition my baby might possibly have. I came across all sorts of things, but the fluid around the heart made me think that we might be having a Down Syndrome baby. Definitely not the "healthy baby and pregnancy" what we were praying for and imagining, but at the same time, I thought: what a great family we would be for a special needs child to be born into, with 6 older siblings to love on this special baby.

We did ask whether we were having a boy or girl, and the tech told us what she thought, but that news kind of got lost amidst all the other news.


Popular posts from this blog

5/31 Baby Mila is Born

. May 31, 2018 | 31 weeks Our baby Mila was born today. 3 lb 1 oz and 14 3/4 inches of pure bliss. She stayed with us just long enough to meet her brothers and sisters, and then she breathed her last and went home to our Lord. We had been looking forward to May 31 for weeks. I was impatient about it, even. It was the day that our second opinion was scheduled. I was eager to find out more information about our baby. Instead, I got to meet her face to face. The Day Before Wednesday afternoon, just after 3 pm, I noticed that I had some sort of a discharge come out of me, out of the birth canal side. It was only a little bit. When I wiped, it kind of looked like diarrhea (an olive brown color), and I thought I must have leaked something when I passed gas. Super embarrassing. But anyway, when I wiped my other end, there was no sign of diarrhea whatsoever. So I googled it and concluded that it must be the beginning of some sort of infection, and I resolved not to eat any more chocol

Daddy's Reflections

As a husband I can’t directly relate to my wife through pregnancy and motherhood. Those things are uniquely feminine, and I am of no help to guess what Delia is feeling. I can learn from what she expresses, and I am really glad that she has been open to me and that she has now written these posts. It gives me a glimpse into the mind of the strong, Christian woman that I married going through the trial of her life. I always need to be the leader in our marriage, but I’ve had to walk that delicate balance between being a dictator and being aimless. The decision to choose hospice after birth was the direction I saw Mila’s health going, but I let Delia get as many opinions and counsel as she desired. I would have supported intervention if she insisted, because I love her and she is the mommy. Whatever she wanted for that day she would get, such as how she wanted to capture the day on video, or what personal items she wanted to have nearby. I trust her judgment, and so I trust being patie

7/26 Letting Go

July 26, 2018 | Week 8 It's funny how feelings can change in just a few days. Today, I'm feeling like I took a step backwards in the grieving process. As my final days of pumping approach, I find myself holding on and afraid of letting go. Seeing Mila's milk every day, writing her name on each bag every single day throughout the day has been so sweet & so special. I'll never get to fill out a form for Mila & write her name down on it. This is it. This is all I've had. These milk bags have been my only opportunity. I love writing her name down. I love that I think about her multiple times throughout the day. I don't want to stop thinking about her. I don't want "out of sight, out of mind", but I know that's how it's going to be. And I know that that's ok & probably even necessary. I'm feeling that all-too-familiar tension between life & death all over again. I want to choose joy and rejoice in life, but when I place