Reflections...
I remember the excitement. I had been anxiously waiting to find out the gender of our baby.
I remember the ultrasound. The sound of the buttons clicking as she took measurements. Lots of clicking, not a lot of talking.
I remember waiting a long time to see the doctor. I thought we were going to be late for lunch with our moms. I was already trying to convince Josh to name her Charlotte before the appointment was over.
I remember the doctor showing us pictures. There were a few things that looked abnormal on the ultrasound. She said it could be serious or it could be nothing. I’ll always wonder why she said that. I think she knew it was something.
She told us we needed to follow up with a specialist two days later. That was a red flag.
I didn’t cry until I was in the car.
But we had to go eat lunch with our moms, so I stopped crying. I remember the excitement on their faces as we said it was a girl and then the fear as I started sobbing. I pulled myself together. It might be nothing, it might be nothing...
I remember the follow up appointment. He looked at the ultrasound and knew immediately. He took us in his office and broke the news to us. I’ll never know how he tells people things like that day after day.
I remember knowing it was fatal, but I didn’t fully understand the diagnosis. I asked how long she could live outside the womb. “Maybe 15 minutes.”
And that was when it hit me. We were going to lose our baby girl.
I remember we drove to our church and told a pastor because we couldn’t face our family yet. I remember his tears mixed with ours.
I remember we hid out at his house for a while. Josh called his parents and mine. I didn’t know how to tell them their grandchild was going to die.
I remember finally seeing my family. What was there to do? I remember sitting and crying. And sitting. And crying.
And so our journey began.
Thinking of you especially often today, baby girl.
