We entered the office waiting room and
registered with the receptionist. As soon as she saw our name, she got the
nurse. We were ushered back immediately. The nurse put us in a room and stood
in the corner, The secondary obstetrician walked in with our chart in his hand.
He was a thin, short man. He stood as far away from us as he possibly could,
his back against the wall, the chart closed in his hand. The entire world stood
still for this moment in time. I could feel my heart racing. My only comfort in
all of this was my God and my Mike. I could feel Mike standing tall and strong,
nestled closely against my back. He was trying to protect me already from what
he knew would be unbearable news.
The doctor began, "Everybody wants to be
happy. Everybody wants a live baby. Well, that is not the news I have for you.
You are going to have a dead baby. Your baby will not make it. Everybody always
want everything to be okay but that's not for you. This raises many questions.
Sometimes the more questions ask, the more questions you get. Sometimes there
are no answers…” On and on he droned. I wanted to see what was in the chart. He
had yet to give us any reasons why this was all happening. It was all vague
generalities. We sat very still and completely silent.
There came a point when I could no longer bear
to hear him go on and on without really telling us anything. I leaned and
forward and grabbed the chart out of his hands. Mike leaned over my shoulder to
read with me. At the bottom of the page it read:
Significant Findings
1. Two-chambered heart.
Unable to visualize remaining chambers.
2. Malformed abdomen of
unknown origin
3. Nuchal translucency
well beyond normal limits.
I didn't understand what "nuchal
translucency" meant. Up until this time both Mike and I had not said a
word. We were just trying to take it all in.
I looked at Mike and asked, “What is nuchal…?” I
didn’t get to finish my sentence. The doctor said, “This is highly significant
of a chromosomal abnormality."
"Oh, my God." It came out softly and
was all I could say. My mind was flooded with the possibilities of what this
could mean. I knew that some chromosomal abnormalities were fatal and some were not. My mind was overcome -- would
my baby be disfigured or permanently disabled, would he suffer endless
surgeries, would he even live?
The obstetrician moved from the wall and knelt
in front of me. Thank God, finally this cold man was going to show some
kindness. He put his fingers just inches from my nose.
“Don’t give me that ‘Oh my God’ business. This is nothing but data. Now you go home and conjugate it. That’s what you do with data.”
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