The Beginning of the End

I dropped Isla off at school this morning…but, not before I couldn’t find my keys. It’s like the universe somehow knows it’s going to be a shitty day because today is the day we most likely are going to find out the results of the CVS. My keys were not off hiding in a super conspicuous place or anything. They were actually just on a part of the kitchen counter they wouldn’t normally be, so, I didn’t think to look there. Eventually I started to get desperate and began looking all over the kitchen for them and finally, I found them. So off to school Isla went.

When I came back home, I got a quick bite to eat for breakfast (Lucky Charms – although, they didn’t make me feel very lucky), and then I set out to work on some math homework. This past Saturday I’d told my teacher that I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with my pregnancy this week (I’d been keeping her informed of everything since I thought it might affect my work and I wanted her to know why), and, it could very well be my last day in class. She completely understood and told me to just keep her in the loop and if we needed to go the route of taking an incomplete for the course (this would allow me to come back and finish the portion of the course I didn’t finish within the next year), we could do that at any time. So, I’ve been making an effort to stay as up to date as possible with my homework and the project she assigned. That way, I would have little to do if/when I took an incomplete.

While I was working on my homework, I got a message from a friend on Facebook regarding her being chosen to move on to the next round of the application process for the nursing program at Mt. Hood Community College. Jjjjjjjuuuuuuuusssssssstttttttt what I needed to hear today! You know, seeing as how I had found out on the 5^th (just 5 days ago) that I had not been chosen to move on to the next round. Two crappy things to start the day; the universe must be trying to tell me something…because, then the call came in. The call I’d been waiting for…the call from Pat. Do shitty, crappy, etc. things happen in threes? I was about to find out, huh? 

I immediately didn’t like the sound of Pat’s voice over the phone, so, my heart sank. I told her that I wanted to conference Alberto in because I didn’t want to hear the news, whatever it was going to be, without him. So, I put her on hold while I conferenced him in. Finally, the three of us were on the phone. What Pat said to us next was my worst nightmare. The results of the CVS showed that our baby did, indeed, have Trisomy 18. I felt gutted. Devastated. Absolutely crushed. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise to me though, because, I’d had little hope since I got the call from Pat 2.5 weeks ago about my blood work. Still, the news hit me like a ton of bricks and I didn’t know what to say or what to do next. As he did when we were in Pat’s office, Alberto took over the conversation from there. He let Pat know that he was at work and that he would leave as soon as he could to come home and be with me. He told her that although we’d already decided how we would proceed should our baby have T18, we would still discuss things and call her later to confirm how we wanted to proceed. She said this sounded like a good plan, but, that she had patients that she would be seeing throughout the day. So, she might not be at her desk when we called (and if that happened, to leave a message and she would call us back). Alberto and I both thanked her for calling us with the news, she apologized for having to give us such terrible news, and then she hung up. Alberto had a meeting that he needed to attend, so, I told him to stay at work until he was able to finish his meeting. He asked me was I sure and I said yes. We told each other that we loved one another and then we hung up. 

I’m not sure why…maybe because I was in shock, but, I tried to continue doing my math homework. As if nothing had happened. As if I didn’t just hear about the death sentence my child was just given. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t concentrate enough to work on my math homework. So I stopped. I looked at a gossip site, which seemed stupid…so I stopped. Next, I decided I would look at flights for my Mom. I knew as soon as I heard the news that I needed my Mom here. I couldn’t focus long on this either though. So I just stopped and I sat there. The reality of what I’d heard begun to sink in and I just began to cry and sob, uncontrollably. From this moment on, no matter what I did, no matter what I decided…my child was going to die. WAY, WAY, WAY too soon. Before I was ready for he/she to die. My heart completely broke into pieces, for I would forever and always be the mother of an angel baby. It was all too much to handle, so, I somehow picked myself up and made it to my bedroom. In the bed I went and under the covers I buried myself. Tears streaming, snot flowing…I was an absolute mess. I needed something, a release. Something to try and get my mind, at least momentarily, off of the heartbreak and hurt. So what did I do? I watched tv. 

I turned on a recording of one of my favorite shows, “Switched at Birth”. For 45 minutes my brain was occupied by this show and the things that were happening in these characters lives. But, as soon as the show went off, I was thrust back into the horror of my own life and, again, I began to sob. By this time, I’d gotten a text from Alberto saying he was on his way home. He didn’t leave to come home immediately because of that meeting, but, by 11am, he was home and I was in his arms (we’d gotten the call before 9am).

For the next 4 hours we cried together, he held each other, we slept, and we talked. We talked about the plan we’d already come up with…how we would terminate the pregnancy if in fact our child had T18. But, when it came to actually making the decision, knowing that it was true…that our child did have T18, it wasn’t that simple for me. I sobbed and wailed “I can’t do it – I can’t do this”. Alberto, as he so effortlessly does, calmed me down and reminded me of why we chose this before. He reminded me of what T18 means for our child and how we needed to protect Isla, the baby in my womb, and myself. It was the best decision we could make for our family, and although it is a difficult one, it is the right one. After we had finally decided that we would schedule the procedure to terminate the pregnancy (we weren’t sure if it was the D&C or the D&E), we called Pat back. We briefly spoke with her because she was with a patient. But, she told us she would call us back around 3:30p to discuss things in detail. After we hung up with Pat, we called my Mom and told her the news. She asked if we knew when the procedure would happen and we told her we didn’t know, that we were waiting to hear back from our genetic counselor. We didn’t know much more or what to say, so we told her we’d call her back later with details on her flight itinerary.

Before we knew it, it was time to go and pick up Isla from school. We were initially going to walk to get out in the fresh air, but, it was really windy and quite cold, so, we drove instead. Isla’s school is only minutes from our house so we were there in no time. It felt so odd to me to be in front of Isla’s teacher, having heard what we’d heard and having cried our eyes out the last 4 hours. But, we did it and made our way home with Isla. We were expecting Pat to call us at any minute, so, we were prepared to put one of Isla’s favorite shows on to keep her occupied. Sooner rather than later, my phone rang and we quickly put a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episode on for Isla and we quietly retreated to the top of our stairs to talk to Pat.

The specifics of this call are a blur to me. I just know that Alberto did much of the talking, as per usual (for this situation at least). He confirmed we decided to terminate the pregnancy and Pat gave us two clinic options (which shall remain nameless). One of the options our perinatologist was familiar and friendly with. However, this clinic was a stand-alone clinic that is known for terminating pregnancies. She said that there were frequently protestors outside. My immediate thought was “protestors? Oh my goodness, I cannot deal with protestors. Absolutely not”. The other option was a clinic that Pat was familiar and friendly with. It is in a high rise in downtown Portland, and although it had had protestors before, the occurrence was rare. The protestors wouldn’t know who to protest to as well, because, the building houses multiple businesses, medical practices, etc. Naturally, we chose that option. Pat said that she would set the whole process up. That she would send my chart to them ahead of time, that way they are “in the know” and know exactly what is going on and why. She also gave us their contact information, just in case we had any questions between now and when the procedure took place. She needed to call them to make the arrangements (I told her the later in the week, the better), so she said she would call us back with details. But, turns out they’d closed for the day and she had to leave a message and a referral. She assured us that someone would call me tomorrow morning to set everything up. 

Before we let her go, we decided (earlier in the day) that we wanted to know the sex of our child. We both thought knowing the sex would help us in the grieving process. Pat confirmed that the chromosomal study was of an XX karyotype. Our baby is a girl. A tiny, innocent, sweet baby girl. We thanked Pat for all that she’d done, and, she told us that she would send a referral to a grief counselor for us. She also gave us some info on a few infant loss groups that we could contact as well. Finally, she expressed her sadness and apologizes again, and, we ended the call. Alberto and I sat there a little longer and cried. We still couldn’t believe what was happening and what we would have to endure over the next few days…over the next few weeks, and months. How we’d have an angel baby until the day we died. It was all too much to bare.