My son grew a brain: Part 4

The Waiting Game

“So, now what?” my husband asked after the long discussion we had filling him in on what was happening with our tiny growing-ish baby.

“I don’t know, babe…..we just wait, I guess”, I said. The doctor-who-wanted-to-kill-my-baby had told me that a nurse would be calling me with the plan for follow up ultra sounds. Sure enough, she called me mid-afternoon of what seemed at that time to be the longest day of my life. She said that I should schedule an appointment with a prenatal specialist because they have access to 4D ultrasound machines and that would be the best way to confirm what is happening and what the next best course of action would be.

I called the office and they said they could see us in a couple weeks.

A COUPLE WEEKS? What in the world was I going to do until then?

Well, to be honest, I didn’t do much of anything. I was working from home part-time and taking care of Quin (who had just turned 1) and I had to keep doing those things….so I did. At times, I did them as a zombie, in a cloud of confusion and unrest. At other times, I forgot what was happening with our little one….especially when I woke up I the morning…I would come out of a deep sleep, remember that I was pregnant, and then relive the reality all over again that I was carrying a dying child inside of me. This made my emotional state quite, um, “interesting”. I do remember the easiest emotion was depression. Overwhelmed by the complexity of the situation, I preferred to dive into myself. Inside myself there was sadness, sure. But there was also quietness and a strange sense of peace within the storm of this situation.

Inside of me was also a heartbeat of my little one. The one we planned for but happened sooner than expected. The one that would be Quin’s playmate. The one that would make us a family of 4.

While Quin was napping in the afternoon, I’d sit and start at the computer, not doing the work I was supposed to be doing. Giving up, I’d lean back in my office chair, put my had on my growing belly (man, it sure pops out the 2nd time around, huh?) and wonder why in the world people say things like “God only gives you what you can handle” or “All this will work out to bring Him glory”. No matter if those things were true or not, they sure felt like daggers to the heart. I hoped that I had never carelessly said those types of things to anyone before in my life and, if I had, I sure as heck wasn’t going to say them ever again.

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