One month ago tomorrow, we received news that no parent ever wants to hear. Something was wrong with our baby. The baby I had always longed for and ever gave up on having. Only 3 days before, we had celebrated that I had made it past the first trimester uneventfully. Only three days later our hope and joy quickly crumbled. The ultrasound tech immediately detected a very high measurement of fluid at the back of the baby's neck in a test called a Nuchal Translucency (NT) scan. All babies have some fluid, but many babies with Down Syndrome or other chromosomal abnormalities have an increased amount. Statistically, it is much more likely to have a baby with Down Syndrome if you have an abnormal result.
Just days before, in preparation for what they would be looking at on ultrasound, I had researched images on the Internet. I knew what a healthy baby looked like. I also memorized the dark gap of fluid in ultrasound photos of babies who had problems. It was surreal. Seeing your unborn child pop up on the large screen on the wall is breathtaking. Seeing the dark gap of fluid come into view behind MY baby's neck left me speechless. This can't be right. I'm not a professional. Surely I'm not seeing things right. Stay calm. I always rush to a worst-case scenario. Breathe. The ultrasound tech leans forward and gets a little less chatty. I gulp. She presses the wand harder and harder into my belly, trying to get better views of the baby. After more and more of this, she takes some notes and says, "I'll be back in just a minute."
"Something's not right," I told Bryan. After nearly 10 agonizing minutes of the tension building, the tech returned and sat down.
"Is everything all right?" I barely mustered enough strength to ask.
"Well, there are a few things that are concerning," she went on to say. She noted that the NT measurement was 8 mm. Anything beyond 2.5 mm puts the baby at increased risk of possibly having one of the chromosomal abnormalities mentioned above. Eight mm is a huge red flag. So huge, they didn't even both doing the blood test that is normally taken in conjunction with the ultrasound. The tech told us the doctor was in a satellite office and wanted to meet with us the following day to go over the results with us personally. Gulp.
They left us in the room for as long as we needed. We collapsed into each other's arms and wept.
The next day, as the doctor spelled out in more detail the bad news from the previous day, in the middle of it all came a beautiful moment. All the while as the doctor talked, our baby kept squirming around on the screen. Suddenly, our baby started sucking his little thumb. That was our golden moment in a very dark pit. I am holding onto the little things now...
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