The Ultrasound

It never crossed my mind that the anatomy ultrasound could also be the defining point of my pregnancy, that nothing would ever be the same again. After all, my baby's heartbeat was normal, my pregnancy was normal, I was healthy, my baby was certainly healthy. I will never forget the day of that ultrasound. I woke up so excited that morning, I couldn't wait to see my little one on screen for the very first time! I was going to get to see my baby's hands, feet, legs, arms and everything in between! My Mom and sisters were going with me, they shared my excitement. Waiting to be called back was so trying, with a full bladder and anticipation overwhelming me, I could have sworn I was in that waiting room for hours. Finally it was my time to go back. All of us girls filed into the room, giggling, smiling, I felt like I was ready to burst (not just from excitement either, those who have had that ultrasound know the persistent pressure on your bladder courtesy of the recommended 32 ounces of water and hour wait time)! I laid down and the ultrasound started. How breathtaking to see that little life inside you on the screen, to see that they are a little baby. There were the legs I had felt moving around! The feet with 10 perfect little toes! We couldn't get a good shot on the sex, but the tech assured me we would go back to it after we took some measurements. She started clicking away, showing me his kidneys, his heart, his liver. What an incredible miracle to see life in the process of development! My baby was so real to me! The arms reaching out, the hands moving, those little fingers! Then there it was, my baby's face, the tech pointed out the nose, the mouth, the eyes. Then she paused....

I will never forget the change in the ultrasound techs eyes, the corners of her mouth moving from the upward position of a smile to the flat line of concern. I know she tried to hide it, she kept smiling at me when I would catch her eyes. "Maybe your bladder is a little full, why don't you got empty a little bit?". The walk to that bathroom was so long. I remember sitting on the toilet, the ominous feeling of the situation engulfing me something wasn't right, something just wasn't right. Followed by the faint glimmer of hope, maybe it is because my bladder is full, I know I drank a lot of water? I really had to pee. I slowly made my way back to the room and laid back down on the table. She kept moving the wand around, back and forth, back and forth, digging, pushing. I could tell she was trying to find something, something that didn't seem to be there. It was only when I looked into my Mom's eyes that I knew, I knew something wasn't right, something was definitely not right. My Mom smiled sweetly at me, but I could see the fear in her eyes. I remember looking away from the screen, scared of what I might see, staring at the wall, tapping my fingers on it, praying that she would all the sudden say "Look! There it is!". Instead she excused herself to go and get the supervising technician.

Everything moved in fast forward at that point. The man came into the room, moved the wand around in the same searching manner, his mouth drawn in the same flat line of concern as the techs. My Mom's eyes gave her away. She was trying to be reassuring, holding my hand, but I could feel her shaking. She had had six children, she of all people knew what they couldn't find. She knew something was wrong. The man looked at me, asked me to get cleaned up and told me I would be escorted to his office. The tech looked like she wanted to apologize, she gave me the most haunting look of pity and left the room. Mom helped me get ready, the size of the ball in my throat even now is nothing in comparison to what it was then. Mom let me know what they didn't see, it looked like the couldn't find the top of the baby's head. What? How could that be, I saw the face, the ears, how can that just not be there it doesn't make sense.

I waited for what seemed like hours for the man to come back and tell me what was happening. He finally came to speak with me, handed me some brochures, of what I cannot even tell you now. Explained to me that they could not find the top of my baby's head, that he was fairly positive it just wasn't there. I remember asking him what that meant, was my baby going to be mentally handicapped? Would my baby be deformed? He said he couldn't give me a diagnosis, I had to have a Level II ultrasound, to confirm what they believed they saw. After I asked him again and again, with tears streaming down my face, I guess he took pity on me and told me he believed my baby had anencephaly. I asked what that meant, his answer, your baby is going to die, anencephaly is fatal. In an instant my world faded, I had no breath, this just couldn't be. The tears started falling, I had no words. I left the office to head over to my OB, to schedule my Level II ultrasound. I left my baby's first ultrasound empty handed, no pictures to share, with only the words of that man ringing in my head.. "Your baby is going to die. Anencephaly is fatal."

The Beginning

The best place to start a story is in the very beginning. I will never forget the day I realized I was late, really late. Four different branded positive pregnancy tests later, I was setting up an appointment at the local clinic. Getting pregnant was not part my plan, but the very first moment that test read positive I knew my plan didn't matter anymore, I was going to be a Mommy, I was already a Mommy. I remember that once I got over the shock, I was excited. Being a Mom was something I always wanted. Granted being a single mom was not my ideal situation, but I had an incredible support system. I never disliked being pregnant, even when the morning queasiness hit me. I enjoyed finding ways to keep it at bay, while watching my tummy steadily grow. I will never forget the first time I heard my baby's heartbeat, the amusement I felt when my little one pushed away from the monitor (he seemed to enjoy making it a difficult task to get a good read on his heartbeat). I will never forget the instant connection I felt to the little life I had growing inside me.

As my pregnancy progressed normally I settled into the role of motherhood. I started watching all sorts of birthing documentaries, doing research on the best baby furniture, reading pregnancy books and of course tapping into the best resource I had, my Mom. My excitement just could not be contained! Every prenatal appointment went well, I started to feel all sorts of little flutters. I refused the AFP test, because I knew, despite the results I would keep my baby. I mean after all, if they did have something wrong, I would trust God to care for them. I wasn't scheduled to have my second trimester anatomy ultrasound until 18-20 weeks, but at my 16 week appointment I was measuring a little large. It was assumed that I was just a little farther along than we originally thought, so I was scheduled for the anatomy scan. As a first time Mommy anatomy scan meant only one thing to me, I was going to find out if my little one was a boy or a girl!

Bennett Elijah

June 16th will be three years since I welcomed Bennett into the world, and it will be three years June 17th since I held him while he took his final breath. It has taken me time to find the courage to share Bennett's story, for many reasons, most of which stem from my own fears of the reactions that I might recieve. Friday I had the opportunity to meet an amazing woman, Heather Walker, who through her journey with her Anencephaly Angel Grayson James Walker, has inspired so many people, even me. I was reminded that God has a plan for every life, no matter how short the time spent here on Earth, and that Bennett's light needs to shine! God gave him to me, as my perfect gift. Now it's my turn to let him be a gift to others; a gift to remind us of God's unfailing love, his enduring grace and never ending forgiveness.