The only reason I looked forward to this appointment is so that I could know if this was something that could have been passed on from myself or my husband, Scott. Without either of us knowing.
We waited in the waiting area until we were called back.
When something like this happens, you gain a whole new perspective on things.
Have you ever had a boyfriend or someone you cared about with a certain car, say a Jeep. All of a sudden, you are noticing Jeep after Jeep after Jeep driving by. The Jeeps have probably been passing you by all along but your world didn't have any sort of need or focus on the Jeeps until now.
That is basically what happened at this visit. The genetic counseling was inside the hospital, right at the entrance to the birthing center.
There were women coming in happy, women leaving the triage in tears, and women leaving the perinatalogist's office with fear and tears in their eyes. Many times in this hospital I have focused on the happy times, the happy couples, the crying babies leaving with the exhausted mother.
This time, I noticed crying, fear, sadness. So many people dealing with heartache, loss, and fear. Fear of the unknown? Maybe. Fear of what is known? Perhaps.
They finally called us back. We filled out a ton of sheets. I realized that there are so many defects, diseases, and problems in our history during this appointment that I start getting concerned for Sadie!
After filling out the paperwork, they sit us down. It's a nice and comfy couch. She pulls over the tissue box. Well, that can't be a good sign!
She tells us that it is a difficult time for us. I'm glad she is aware.
She tells us that the quality of life for 'this fetus' will not be good, if it makes it past 28 weeks. She suggested going to Colorado or Kentucky which offers late-term abortions. She said that our life will change considerably. She said that 'the fetus' will be a "bump on a log".
She told us to think about our options. I told her 'no' to abortion. She again reiterated the quality of life for 'the fetus' will not be good.
I told her that it wasn't up to me to decide what would happen. If it goes according to the doctor and the counselor, the baby will die shortly anyways. One thing I did know, it was not up to me to decide the fate of the baby.
We left the appointment without really saying a word to each other. We focused our attention on Sadie.
She is our world.
That night, she lifted up my shirt and said, night baby. Scott and I looked at each other. I teared up. He teared up. I pretended to be her baby sister and said 'good night' (as we have been doing every time she kisses baby).
That.Was.Hard.
My voice cracked as I pretended to be her sister. Scott took Sadie and put her to bed. He knew I needed time alone.
I curled up in the fetal position and sobbed. How will I tell my baby about the baby the won't make it? She didn't deserve this. She deserved a sister to play with. A sister to have fun with. She deserved the world. I couldn't give it to her.
She didn't deserve to mourn a sister.
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