New banner for Little O's birthday. It was really, really hard to make because I was *crying* the whole time...*ugh*...
I thought I'd re-run the Little O pregnancy story today for those who haven't heard it. We are off to do fun birthday things.
You might need some tissue for this. I'm just sayin'.
Three of the most agonizing days of my life happened in
September of 2002.
O-man and I found out we were pregnant in early August of that year. I was so incredibly happy to be expecting again.
I immediately started picking out sweet little baby outfits and looking through baby name books with hubby. We had to do so clandestinely because we hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Teen-O (who was then pre-teen-O). It was such a special time, I loved that we had this little secret treasure just between us.
Six weeks later we made the announcement to family and friends and had scheduled our first appointment with the doctor.
We arrived at the office early Monday morning on September 23rd. We were thrilled to find out that she would be doing a sonogram.
Human fetus at six weeks after conception.
While I knew not to expect more than a tiny blip on the screen, it still meant seeing the reality of the little life we’d already fallen head over heels in love with and just the thought of it gave me butterflies.
I remember lying on the table, hubby holding my hand and smiling down at me, the doctor adjusting the machine and making small talk…
And then the tone of her voice changed slightly, and she began to ask more pointed questions about how I had been feeling.
and then she was just quiet…studying the monitor…
and then she stopped,
and reached over
and turned the monitor off
and began to tell us
that we had lost our baby.
I don’t recall her exact words; it was all a blur of emotion…first absolute denial…
I told her she was wrong,
I had taken three pregnancy tests
I was having morning sickness
and every other symptom that comes with early pregnancy.
As I was explaining all this she reached into a drawer and pulled out a black & white pamphlet that had been photocopied so many times the text was starting to disintegrate. There was a sad couple on the front and a title that included the word “miscarriage”.
I felt my face get flush, hot tears stung my eyes and I heard the doctor’s voice as if she was at the end of a long tunnel…
telling me the symptoms were most likely from residual hormones
telling me it wasn’t my fault,
these things happen,
we could try again right away…
There are really no words to describe the next three days. The anguish of beginning to call friends and family to tell them we’d lost the baby. The devastation of packing away the tiny outfits we’d already purchased and the baby name books I’d circled names in. The grief and sorrow of losing someone we loved with all our hearts though we’d never even met.
On Wednesday morning the nurse called and said she wanted me to go to the hospital immediately. Based on some lab results they had reason to be concerned that instead of a miscarriage I may have had an Ectopic pregnancy. This is when the fertilized egg settles in the fallopian tube. There is no chance of survival for the baby in this situation and the possibility of hemorrhaging and death for the mother.
We arrived at the hospital, pre-teen O in tow and began filling out mountains of paperwork as we waited for the next available sonogram technician to call me in.
While we were waiting we received a phone call from a local florist letting us know that they had a flower delivery and asking when a convenient delivery time would be. My boss had sent a sympathy bouquet.
Finally my name was called. We had decided that since our little boy was with us, hubby would stay in the waiting room with him.
O-man squeezed my hand and gave me a sad but reassuring smile and I walked into the back room ready to hear the worst.
I lay on the table staring up at the ceiling while the technician began adjusting knobs and asking me questions. I was biting my tongue to try to keep myself from crying and wishing that my husband was in the room with me when suddenly she said,
“Ok, everything looks good here, your baby is about….
After the word baby I didn’t hear much. I think she was telling me how many centimeters he was or something…all I could hear was my heart pounding in my chest.
And then I began to sob, loud, guttural, elated sobbing…and somehow between the sobs I managed to say, “the baby?…there’s a baby?” and freaked the poor technician completely out.
She started saying, “Are you ok? I’m so sorry; I thought you knew you were pregnant. I’m so sorry.”
It took a few minutes for us both to calm down and me to explain the story to her, that I thought I’d lost my baby and that she had just told me the most wonderful, amazing news of my life.
She turned the screen toward me and let me see that glorious little blip.
Then we were both laughing and crying and she said, “Oh I should go get your husband and son!” She brought them in and slipped out of the room quietly while I told them the miraculous news.
I will never forget that moment, telling them I had seen the little blip we had so desperately wanted to see a few days earlier…crying and laughing and crying again.
Before we left the hospital, that sweet, sweet technician came back into the room and gave me what looked like a small x-ray. It was a copy of the sonogram.
They had run out of the paper that it was normally printed on, but she wanted me to have it so she printed it on x-ray film.
Here it is:
We found out that apparently no one had informed her why she was doing this sonogram; she wasn’t even looking for an ectopic pregnancy, just a healthy baby, and she found him.
She said given the baby’s position it would have been impossible for the doctor to see him with the equipment she had.
All the way home we were both on the cell phones calling those we had told the bad news that it was good news after all (and being so thankful that we hadn't even told everyone yet).
Shortly after we arrived there was a knock at the door; it was the florist with the bouquet from my boss.
I don’t know why, but that stands out so strongly in my memory. How those flowers were sent from sorrow, but arrived in joy.
So that’s my pregnancy story with LittleO.
I’m sitting here crying again as I type this (even though this is the second posting of this story), just so thankful to the Lord for getting us through that. He is so faithful.
The rest of the pregnancy went pretty normally (if you don’t count Little O deciding to come a month early!).
And now my little blip is FIVE years old and learning to read and explaining to me exactly how legos work and talking and talking and talking and talking (he talks *a lot*).
And I love every minute of it.
"No one's ever seen or heard anything like this, never so much as imagined anything quite like it— what God has arranged for those who love Him."
-1 Corinthians 2:9,10