Big cheeks and button nose, just like big brother.
As I got ready this morning, the thought occurred to me: I didn't cry yesterday. When I cry, it's not the same as when I did a year ago. It's not with the same sadness or feelings of complete despair. Sure there is sadness but it's more of a longing for what would have been. It's a song on the radio, a thought in my mind, a vision in front of me that brings tears to my eyes and can make the heart ache for what isn't here. Those daily tears are usually in the shower, in the car or the quiet space before I fall asleep. It's not heaving sobs anymore. Some days it's just a few tears and sniffles, a simple release. Other days it's more substantial but it is usually short and sweet.
Yesterday I don't recall shedding a single tear. There may have been other days between now and May 26, 2015 but this is the first time I've realized that a day had passed without tears.
After that realization, the tears started in a heavy flow. The reason for them today was fear for what the next few hours would bring. I didn't sleep much last night and when I did, my dreams were ridiculous on the crazy scale with different scenarios over and over for this 20 week appointment. My anxiety has been building over the past week and I felt like I was just teetering at the top of that mountain. Today was the big sonogram, the full anatomy scan. With Hudson this was met with so much excitement and not a thought in my mind that something could be wrong. I was blissfully unaware at that time of how many parents can create a turning point of the beginning of their life after loss journey from this appointment. Our 20 week scan with Hudson was perfect, but this time around I was not very "excited" because although I knew what our early blood testing had already been able to rule out, I also knew what we could potentially discover today. I cried because how much I love Hadley already and it tore me apart to think that she could be taken away from us, that we could lose another baby this time in a different way. I cried because of the guilt I had that I wasn't able to be excited for this appointment because of the fear that I now know but didn't know the first time around. I cried thinking of the Parents of Loss who are now in my life and that this is where their lives changed.
I had the release and then it ended.
I picked Max up from his office and within minutes we were at the hospital, heading up to my doctor's office. We were led back into the room and our sonographer, Holly, was very thorough with us. She knows our history. I found myself holding my breath again, unable to exhale until she said "there's that beating heart." I had just listened to it the other day at home with my fetal heart monitor, but it still gives me pause every time. She looked at the chambers of the heart first, my eyes following her curser as she made her notes and checked everything off on the screen. After the heart, she did the diaphragm, then the stomach, then the liver, the kidneys, followed by the bladder. We looked at the arms and legs, her spine. She gave us assurance after each vital organ and bone had been measured, scanned and received the seal of approval. The brain was last and what I kept holding my breath on. That was my biggest fear, that her brain would not be developed and she wouldn't be able to live. I don't know why this was my greatest fear, but it was. Anything else and I felt like we could handle it, there would be quality of life, we would make the best of it, we would create our next steps and gather our resources, she would live or at least have a chance to. Brain development, or lack thereof, terrified me. Last week as I started feeling kicks and taps, I was googling whether you could feel movements or not if a brain was not developing. I didn't find an answer. Paranoid much? (raises hand)
As she scanned the brain from the top of the skull, Hadley kept moving her head back as though she was trying to look at us. We all laughed, I could relax again. She had the hiccups during her scan. We saw her suck her thumb and rub her little face. She would roll her head from side to side as though she was playing peek-a-boo so we couldn't really get the best side profile pic but we managed the one above just as she was turning away from us again. We got a close up of her face that showed a little button nose. We saw ten fingers and ten toes. At one point she decided to do a somersault for us. That was impressive. She got stuck and again we laughed, she kept trying and trying, using the inertia from her arms to continue the flip, then finally made it all the way around. I wanted to cheer for her. A determined little one.
She rubbed her little face, put an arm close to her head and snuggled in as if she was saying okay, show is over, it's nap time.
We got a close up of her head and shoulders and Holly pointed out the cord hanging out in view. This led me to get that icy hot feeling that starts in the gut and then pulses through your body. I asked if that was okay, if that was common? She knew where my panic was coming from and assured me that it was, that the cord is not in any way distressed, she checked the flow through it which looked exactly as it should.
I had a cyst on my right ovary but she said that is common and looked like it was going away. She said that I more than likely had ovulated from that ovary and a cyst had formed to help with implantation. We will continue to watch it but it is not a level of concern for her or my doctor. She is currently head down and I have an anterior placenta this time (it was posterior last time) which again, is no cause for concern. It just makes movements feel less or more dull for the time being.
We finished up and were handed the roll of pictures, then led back to discuss everything with our doctor. When she came in the room, she was beaming with a report of perfect health. We went over everything together and I felt relaxed. I felt calm. I was thankful for a positive outcome at another appointment, this big benchmark of pregnancy can be checked off the list. We began to discuss what the remainder of my second trimester would look like and into the third. Since I will be induced at 37 or 38 weeks, I am already over the hump of that halfway mark to having her with us. I wish it were tomorrow.
With Hudson's 20 week scan, I walked away feeling like I know this child. He was so rambunctious, lively, spirited and hilarious. We laughed so much through that scan. He was showing off and had some serious kickboxing skills. We got a perfect side profile of him and it was so indicative of who we saw when he was in our arms. That silhouette was exactly what the sonogram had showed us. I knew he had my nose, a small chin with thin lips, the longest little legs.
With Hadley, I walked away today feeling the same way. She's a little more shy, possessing a sweetness, with some spunk. She had a playfulness yet looked like a little cuddle bug as she wiggled into her nap position. While she was a little more bashful and we couldn't get as clear of a view as we did with Hudson, we could make out certain traits that I can't help but think will resemble her brother a little bit - mainly her cheeks and nose.
Alone in the car after dropping off Max, as I drove to the office, I cried again. This time those tears were of relief and joy as I said a quick prayer of thanks. I made it through another big fear in this journey and everything was okay. We take it day by day, week by week. I go back in two weeks for another sonogram and for my glucose test. Two weeks later in mid-July, at 24 weeks, I will begin going weekly, alternating between a high-risk specialist and my doctor to receive the additional monitoring and assurance needed.
Maybe tomorrow there won't be tears of any kind. Maybe there will be more days like that. Maybe they will happen more frequently and become consecutive. Maybe they won't. Tears or no tears, there is hope, joy and thanksgiving to counter the fear, anxiousness and guilt that Pregnancy After Loss can bring.
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