We were so excited to see you today, little baby. It was your daddy’s first time seeing you, and mama’s second. Your mama and daddy were going to meet at the clinic, but I was so excited, I called your daddy on the way. “James. We get to see our BABY today! Are you excited?! Get excited!” Your daddy assured me he was (and was probably rolling his eyes at me).
We started the ultrasound, and there you were! We could see the top of your little head. The ultrasound technician started with the usual measurements, and I laid there waiting for THE picture… the profile of your perfect little body. I couldn’t wait to see your little nose, and your arms and and legs and tiny little fingers and toes. But as the ultrasound tech moved the wand over my belly it seemed like it just kept getting harder and harder to get a good look at you. Of course the first thing I was worried about was not being able to see whether you were a little girl or boy– I know, I know. Silly mama. The tech said that maybe if I went to the bathroom she could get a better view.
I came back into the room your daddy and I waited for the tech to come back but instead it was your mama’s doctor. I think that was my first indication that something wasn’t right. Your mama wasn’t supposed to see her doctor until after the ultrasound was finished and she had all the glorious printed pictures of you in her hands. Then came the most devastating words I had yet to hear in my life. I would type them for you here, but to be honest, your mama was in such shock she can’t remember exactly what they were. But you know they were bad when your daddy says he almost passed out.
You were not well, she told us. You have too much fluid in places where it isn’t supposed to be. And your perfect little arms and legs aren’t as long as they should be for how old you are. There was much to-do about getting your mama in to see another doctor, a perinatologist, as soon as possible for an even closer look at you– a level II ultrasound. We were told it even other doctors in the clinic were helping out– the doctor who delivered your big brother was on the phone trying to get me an appointment for tomorrow morning, which she did.
Your mama’s doctor explained to us that things did not look good. And that while there was a small possibility everything would turn out okay, she had to prepare us for the worst. I cannot tell you how difficult it was to listen to every worst-case scenario possible.
Though I hate to admit this to you, baby, your mama and daddy cried lots of tears for you today. Yes, even your daddy. I am trying so hard to be strong, but my heart is breaking for you and for him.
But tomorrow is another day, and another chance to see you! We’ll be up nice and early to say good morning to you! In the meantime, we’ll have a nice long chat with God on your behalf, okay? Good night, little one. We love you more than you could ever know.
Love,
Mama
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:22-23)