Every ultrasound feels special, first time pregnancy or last. And since finding out at 7 weeks I was expecting twins, we met that ultrasound machine more times than I can count. Since my girls were mono-di twins meaning they were identical, sharing one placenta but in their own sacs we had to be seen about every two weeks to make sure they were growing on track and in sync with each other. My OB had referred me to see in conjunction with her a maternal fetal medicine specialist.
I remember sitting in the waiting room at 17ish weeks, it was a later day appointment, so the room was empty. There is something nice about being alone with your spouse in a waiting room. You can joke freely without judgement from others. Talk as loudly as you want. You can watch whatever you want on the tv, no one ever changes the channel, but we could if we wanted! Every scan to date was perfect, every genetic test we put in for came back with zero to less than a percentage chance of there being anything wrong. To say I was confident may be an overstatement while walking back to our ultrasound room, but I was certainly excited. I loved how frequently I got to see my little squishes just beating the crap out of each other or snuggling up. Now for those who don’t know me and my husband personally, we are talkers and loved chatting it up with the technicians while they took the girls measurements. It helped pass the time since sometimes my girls refused to cooperate and it would take some serious patience to get everything we needed. The thing about the technicians though is they are not allowed to say anything medically speaking. Sure they can tell you where the head and legs are but anything further than that needs to be reviewed by a doctor.
So while we are discussing topics I can’t even remember and the ultrasound tech is playing the wonderful movie that is my babies on a larger screen for us to enjoy, the ultrasound tech gets quiet. Too quiet. I start to pay more attention now.. She’s scanning baby A’s heart, then over to baby B’s heart. Back and forth and back and forth. So I ask, even though I see the difference, “Everything alright?” She professionally responds,” Yea i just need to get better pictures it will only take a few minutes.” At this point I know something is off. I can see something is off, however at this point in time my knowledge was limited but I knew what a heart was supposed to look like and baby B’s didn’t look entirely right. She swiftly finishes up and tells us she is going to have scans reviewed by the doctor in the office right now. Before she even walks out I’m in complete tears, while Matt is trying to assure me it’s probably nothing and is trying to reassure me with the clear genetic results. But I asked him if he noticed the scan and he cannot deny that something was off with the tech. At this we are crying in each other’s arms trying to patiently wait for the news the doctor would have to share and what that would mean for my baby girl. I certainly will not lie. I feared the worst. I feared she wouldn’t make it, I feared I would never get to meet her.
Finally the doctor came in and I’m sure maybe in some other circumstances he’s a great guy but on this day to put it nicely he was horse crap. He’s trying to show us on the scan that her heart is different. But then second guessing himself as he’s going through video clips. But he doesn’t know how things are functioning or why it looks different. That she may be too small to see all the details and will have to come back in two weeks for an early fetal echocardiogram. So we ask, “Is there any way she’s just too little and there may not be anything wrong at all?” Denial is sad isn’t it. He abruptly shoots out, “No, there is something wrong.” So through tears we ask, “ Will she be okay, will she make it?” He shrugs, “I dont know I’m not a cardiologist. Come back for echo in two weeks, see the cardiologist then.”
Following My Hearts 