The first memory isn't part of this project, but I wanted to include it as an introduction. The second memory I am sharing because it's only when I look back on it now, that I realize that it was the starting point of my grief journey.
When I think back on the early weeks of my pregnancy, it seems like it was years ago. The joy, excitement, and anticipation all seem so distant now. However, there is one beautiful memory that is still so vivid. It was the day of my 10-week ultrasound. I remember taking a pregnancy test that morning because I wanted to be sure that I was still pregnant before my ultrasound. The double lines formed instantly. Definitely pregnant!
I remember it was an early Monday morning. I had to schedule the appointment before work, because we weren't telling anyone yet that I was pregnant. My husband and I drove together because he wanted to be there for the first ultrasound. When the technician came to get me, she said the room was very small and asked my husband to stay in the waiting room. I didn't think it was a big deal. I figured he could see the pictures later and there would be more ultrasounds in the future. (Had I only known.) So I went by myself to the exam room, more excited than ever to see our baby for the first time. As soon as she placed the wand on my belly, an image of the baby immediately popped up on the screen. It was incredible. I saw his tiny body and he actually looked like a baby. Just over 3 centimeters long, but he was already perfect. Later, I heard our baby's heart beat and it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard...the sound of my baby's life.
That first ultrasound was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I can't recall ever feeling so happy. I hope that I can always have this memory. As long as I do, I will cherish it.
The second memory is of my mid-pregnancy ultrasound. This appointment was also on a Monday morning. May 14, 2012. By this time, everyone at my office knew about the pregnancy, so I made arrangements to leave work mid-morning for a couple hours. Everyone at work wished me luck and I happily replied that I'd be back soon with news of the baby's sex. I remember thinking that I wouldn't be able to tell anyone until I was able to talk to my husband first.
I was so excited to get to see the baby again. My first ultrasound had been such a wonderful experience. I thought that this time it would be even better because the baby had grown so much.
Once at the lab, I met the ultrasound technician. She was really sweet and we made small talk as she prepped me for the exam. She asked me where I lived. I asked her if she liked her job. Then she started the exam and mentioned something about how my bladder was full, so she asked me to go to the bathroom. When I returned, she proceeded with the exam but just moments later, she said she needed to go get the doctor. I could tell something was wrong but I had no clue just how bad things were.
The doctor came in and he was calm and professional. He continued with the exam and mentioned something about the baby's femur measurement being short. Then he showed me the image of my baby and explained that there was something in his abdomen that wasn't supposed to be there. He said the baby might have Cystic Fibrosis, but he wasn't sure. Also, he was concerned because he couldn't see any amniotic fluid in front of the baby. I had no idea what he was talking about. I tried to remember everything he was saying, even though I couldn't understand it. I remember at one point asking the doctor if the baby could live with these complications and I clearly recall him saying the words, "probably not".
These words shocked me. I don't know what I was expecting him to say. I guess I was looking for reassurance that my baby would be alright despite the list of complications that the doctor had just rattled off. But instead I received the answer that no first-time mother ever expects to receive.
I was in a numb state of shock after my appointment. I remember leaving the office and walking out of the building not knowing how to feel or what to do. I was confused and shocked and worried and helpless and heartbroken. I didn't know what to do next, so I just sat down on a bench right outside the exit and texted my husband that something was wrong with the baby, and that the doctor thought he might have Cystic Fibrosis. After I sent the text, I just sat on the bench for a few minutes staring at the pond in front of me, and tried to process all of the information I had just received. I didn't know enough back then to know that our baby's case was fatal, but I knew he wasn't healthy. I was in a situation I hadn't anticipated and I wasn't prepared for it. I don't remember exactly how I felt or what I thought about in that moment. I just remember that while I sat there, I didn't believe our baby was going to die. I wasn't in denial. I was just too naive.
Looking back, that day was a turning point in my life.
As I have not been the same ever since.
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The view from the bench outside of the medical building where Gabriel was first diagnosed with a fatal condition |
It must e so difficult to have to walk this path with your first baby. thanks for sharing your sweet memory and heartbreaking one. Hugs to you today.
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