At our "worked-in" appointment, our doctor gently said, "Go home and rest ... there's nothing you can do right now." Before sending us home, my OB ordered a blood test to check my HCG levels. If my levels had dropped dramatically, it would be a sure sign that we wouldn't be seeing this pregnancy progress.
Brett headed back to work and I headed home to put my feet up. And wait. While waiting, it was crushing to think about all the plans that were in limbo. As soon as we found out I was pregnant, my mind had begun to dream that little dream about being a mom. Buying onesies and baby blankets. Snuggling with my baby in the wee hours of the morning. Walking around the park with my little one tucked in the stroller. In just a few short weeks, my mind and heart had filled with the anticipated joys of being a Mommy. And now ... maybe not.
When the phone rang, I think I already knew what he would say. My doctor explained that my HCG levels had significantly decreased and he needed me to go to the hospital for a high-tech ultra-sound that would tell us how far along I was in my miscarriage and whether or not a D&C would be necessary.
I remember being a bit numb as I hung up. I shed a few tears. But more than anything, I experienced this strange sense of losing something I never really had.
I scribbled a quick note for Brett (these were our pre-cell phone years) and headed to the hospital.
I vividly remember sitting alone at the admission desk and fumbling around for my insurance card, filling out a lengthly form about my health history and wondering if the lady across the counter knew how my heart was broken. She was very nice ... but she had no idea how crushing it was to to fill out: "miscarriage" as my reason for my appointment. One word ... a little death of my dreams.
As I sat by myself in the waiting room, I tried to steer my mind away from the reason why I was here. Anything to distract my heart and mind from the reality. Finally, the nurse called my name and I followed her to the exam room.
As I lay on the exam table, the phone rang in the room. The technician answered it and said, "Okay, we'll wait." Great ... more waiting. In just a few moments, however, the door opened and in walked Brett!
Somehow, he had come home early, found my note, raced over to the hospital and was directed right to where I needed him. Holding his hand at that moment was the greatest comfort to me. It was just what God knew I needed most. Now I wasn't alone in this terrible loss.
As the technician started the ultra-sound, I looked away from the screen. Brett held my hand tightly.
And the technician said, "See ... that's your baby's heart beat. He looks great."
|His first snapshot|
That's truly when the weeping started. Huge, body wrenching sobs.
Deep, Mommy tears.
As Brett and I left the ultra-sound office, the secretary handed me the phone. It was my doctor.
"Wow. What a roller-coaster ride, huh? Go home, rest and I'll see you on Monday."
I still don't know what happened or why I had such heavy bleeding ... but God does. He put His hands around my little "Munchkin" and protected him. And I'm so grateful that He did.
|Me and my Munchkin|
Prompt # 3 ... "A phone call you will never forget"
Or in my case ... three phone calls. :)