Bump #2

Being considered a high risk pregnancy (first because of my age, and next because of gestational diabetes) has its blessings.  I do not make light of the fact that complications can occur because of the factors that got me lumped into that group, but as those did not come to fruition in my pregnancy (any of them, actually), I was able to sit back and enjoy seeing glimpses of my baby each month via ultrasound.

I don't think there is a woman alive who is looking forward to holding her baby soon that doesn't love to have an ultrasound.  The sound of her beating heart, a glimpse of tiny fingers... it's a joy, especially when you have one each month as I did, to see the development and growth of your child.

For some reason I was sent to Panorama City for my routine ultrasound in February 2005.  And because Robert, who worked for Kaiser at the time, was in Palmdale, he couldn't come with me.  I think it was the only prenatal appointment he had to miss in all three pregnancies.

The sonogram department at Kaiser in PC is a bit archaic.  After you are called from the waiting room, you go into the dressing room, which is separated by gender.  Fine.  Then you take off your top and bra and put on a gown, and sit on a bench with other like-dressed women until they call your name.  It's so odd to be sitting there with half a dozen other half-dressed, but gowned, women, mostly pregnant like yourself, waiting to be called into the ultrasound room.  Did I mention that it is in the basement of a very old building, which makes it feel cold and even a little dank? 

Didn't matter.  I was about to see my baby again.

The sonogram began in typical fashion:  greetings and smiles, and chit chat about the pregnancy, but shortly in the sonographer got a little quiet.  She did show me the baby ~ everything looked good to my untrained eyes ~ and took a kazillion pictures.  Then she told me I should go home and "take it easy" and my doctor would be in touch.

Yeah, no.  It was one of those moments where you know something is wrong, but the person won't tell you what ~ or can't, as it were, because of all those silly medical rules.

Initial diagnosis:  placenta previa.

We were sent back to Panorama City about a week later to have a second ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis.  We ~ meaning Robert was there.  Sort of.  Once I was called into the dressing room, he had to wait out in the main room.  I'm telling you, this system is really strange!

I was called back, and had the same sonographer.  I don't recall being overly anxious; I just felt like if that was what it was, we would deal with it.  Perhaps it meant bed rest or light activity; perhaps it meant a C-section.  Whatever.  We would deal.

The sonographer did her exam and quietly confirmed her diagnosis.  I asked her if my husband could come in and see the baby.  She told me no, that they were very behind and given the set-up, it was more difficult to bring him back.  "Aw, man," I remember telling her. "He'll be so disappointed.  He didn't get to come last week because he was working.  He works, you know, for Kaiser..."

The magic words.  It would be a few minutes so she cleaned the drying jelly off my belly and went to get him.  A few minutes later, he stood at my left shoulder with his hand on my tummy for several minutes while she went to work getting all her equipment ready again.  He was silent.  He was praying.

She began the ultrasound, pointing out an arm here, a leg there, on the screen for us to see.  Then she stopped talking altogether.  Her camera zipped around my belly as she focused intently on the screen.

"I made a mistake," she announced a moment later.  "There is no placenta previa."

"How could you have made a mistake?" I asked gently.  I still couldn't help but smile.

"It happens," she said.

"No," I said.  You did an ultrasound a week ago and thought we had placenta previa.  You just did a more extensive ultrasound a few minutes ago confirming that!  You did not make a mistake!  You witnessed a miracle.  My husband has been beside me praying for the last several minutes.  This was no mistake ~ God intervened."

She dismissed it!  She blew me off.  She would rather admit (to a patient even!) that she made a mistake ~ apparently twice ~ than acknowledge that our God is loving and gracious and involved in our lives. 

Loving and gracious, and with a plan for this little one inside me.  His story in her life began even before she was born.