Part 2 - A Year in Holland - The Drive Home From the Ultrasound

The drive home from that appointment felt eternal. When we finally got home, Jamie had to take off to go to work, Andrew had to get ready to go to school, and I had to take Lia to gymnastics. Life went on and there was nothing I could do about it.

Our ultrasound was on a Friday and the weekend that followed was one of the most difficult of my life. I spent entirely too much time researching cleft lip, cleft palate, chromosomal abnormalities and all kinds of syndromes I didn't even know existed. I couldn't get Dr. Singh's solemness out of my head. I kept hearing his voice: "I'm so so sorry, I'm so sorry." Why would he be THAT sorry if it was "just" a cleft lip? I managed to convince myself that he was keeping something from us and that he suspected something far worse than a cleft lip.

I was supposed to go to a baby shower that Sunday. I woke up Sunday from a night of broken sleep and couldn't get out of bed. I did not want to go to a baby shower and celebrate someone else's perfect baby when I was terrified for my own baby. I just couldn't do it. Only... I did do it. At the last minute, I texted my sister and told her I was coming. I put on a brave face, walked into that baby shower and celebrated the joy that comes with all new babies.

In retrospect, I think it was the best thing I could have done. I was very visibly pregnant and many people at the shower asked me about the baby. When are you due? Is it a boy or a girl? Do you have a name? Are your other kids excited?

I was able to talk about it like the Friday appointment never happened. I was able to feel just happy, without letting the dread and worry set in. Just happy. Happy like I had felt for the previous 14 weeks. And it hit me, then, that no matter what, things really were going to be okay. They had to be, there was no other choice. I also made up my mind that I was going to call Dr. Singh first thing Monday morning and demand to know what else he was thinking.

And I did just that. Monday morning, 9:00 a.m., I dialed Beth Israel hospital in Boston and talked to one of Dr. Singh's nurses. She and I spent about an hour on the phone. I explained to her what happened on Friday, how upset Dr. Singh was, how upset he made us with his reaction. What she told me was this: Dr. Singh never knows how people are going to react to hearing that kind of news so he has to deliver it as if it's devastating.

She was the first person who told me about the great and wonderful Dr. Mulliken. Wonderful, amazing, gifted Dr. Mulliken. But I'll talk more on him later.

My conversation with Dr. Singh's nurse really helped me sort out my feelings. As I was talking to her, I heard myself say things that made me realize Yes, I can do this. We can do this. I told her that I felt lucky that he is my third child and not my first because I am a seasoned parent with a much different perspective than a first-time parent. Babies might be born perfect, but by the time they hit 6 years old, they're a mess (said with love, of course). Scars, bruises, cuts, broken bones... there is nothing "perfect" about a 6 year old, that's for damned sure. Though, I didn't know that when I was pregnant with Andrew, I only know it now because I've been there, done that. So, I told her I was grateful; grateful to have the perspective of a third-time parent versus a first-time parent. She agreed that my being a veteran parent was going to help immensely in getting us through this.

And so I scheduled all my appointments. I scheduled an MRI and ultrasound at Beth Israel hospital in Boston. I scheduled an appointment with the cleft and genetics team at Boston Children's Hospital. When all was said and done, Jamie and I had scheduled an 11 hour day in Boston to determine if there was anything else wrong with our baby. And this was only the beginning.

(part 3 coming soon...)