A Little Detour

Yesterday was my "big" ultrasound, which turned out to be a bigger deal than anticipated.

Everything seemed to have gone well. They had a warmer for the gel and we were able to ascertain the sex of the baby with some sense of accuracy. Everyone was happy...

...until the tech came back and said I needed to report to Labor & Delivery / Triage right away. They were expecting me. What??? Triage?? Isn't that what they set up at disaster sites to help the wounded? They said not to worry, it was just a precaution. But Kurt leaned over and whispered to me, "you know, on TV when they say that, it's always bad." And i laughed and agreed. I didn't really think anything was wrong and figured it wasn't a big deal.

Well, the nurse who met us was tight lipped about the nature of my visit. She told me what they had seen that resulted in my referral to them, but that meant basically nothing to me. She said that they had measured some part of me during my ultrasound and if they were right about that they saw...well, let's just wait and see if they were right. Then I was instructed to put on the hospital gown and lie down on one of the curtained-off beds. Hmmm. Sounds like a long visit. I could tell by the look on her face that if they were right about what they saw, the outcomes were all bad, and she wasn't about to list them (probably a very good idea). This is the part where I get a little scared.

They start asking me questions that are clearly meant to assess if I'm going into labor, and hook me up to a contractions monitor, blood pressure cuff and heart rate monitor. Then they leave Kurt & me for a long time. We talked and he kept me calm. But eventually we were just siting there, waiting for someone to come clue us in, and there didn't seem to be much to say. I stared at the ceiling and started praying. I had been so excited after the ultrasound--the baby felt more real to me than ever, and I actually started feeling attached. But all of a sudden it seemed that maybe he (yes HE!) would be taken from me. I realized that I could never possess him; that his life is completely in God's hands. And while I got no assurance at that point what was going to happen, I choked down the fear and aggressively sought the Lord, knowing His goodness was unshaken. I prayed that whatever happened would be for His glory, and that He would give me peace with whatever His decision was. I didn't feel ready to deal with a miscarriage, but I also trusted that if that was His plan, then He would carry me through it.

After the surrender, I felt Him present, and began to feel an assurance that there was nothing truly wrong; I only had to patiently ride out the evening until the doctors were satisfied.

Eventually they came to me and after a very uncomfortable procedure and another ultrasound with a stronger machine, the four doctors on the job agreed that it had been a false alarm and they discharged me. What a relief! Yet as unpleasant as it all was, I am glad to have gone through it. It brought me a little closer to the Lord, and drove home the reality that this child, this person in me, is really His. I figure the sooner I can learn that as a parent, the better off I'll be (and probably the better off my son will be too!). And on another positive note, the second ultrasound, being closer to the action, was able to pick up very clearly that my baby is a "he".

If any of the ladies would like more details on the nature of the incident, I'll be happy to email. But I left out a lot of detail so the menfolk wouldn't be scared off.
:)