Part 3 - A Year in Holland - 11 Hours in Boston

As I awaited our 11 hour day in Boston, I ran through a gamut of emotions. I continued to research (damn the Internet!) and I had days where I was completely fine, and days where I was more than a little bit crazy. I cried. I was angry. I worried that I had ruined my other two kids' lives. I worried I wasn't a good enough parent; wasn't strong enough to handle this. I have always heard "God doesn't give you more than you can handle" (I have really come to despise that) but I wasn't sure. This was maybe more than I could handle.

Then, the day came. I was 23 weeks pregnant and we were heading into Boston. Our friends and family really came through and we managed to find 11 hours worth of babysitting for Andrew and Lia. They didn't have to miss school or after school activities. We felt so loved and supported that day, I can't say enough how grateful we still are for all the support we received.

We got to Boston by 9:00 a.m. My first appointment was the MRI. I had never had an MRI before in my life. And hey, aren't MRIs dangerous for pregnant women? Turns out that is not the case. It was more important to determine what else, if anything, was going on than to worry about any potential risk from an MRI. So, I take off all my jewelery, get into the coffin-like tube and did my very best to remain calm. It actually wasn't too difficult, which surprised me. I think I was just relieved to finally be getting some answers. It had been about 4 weeks since our ultrasound, which is an awfully long time for a pregnant woman to wait. Hormones are a bitch.

During the 4 weeks between appointments, Jamie became my cheerleader. He was positive and optimistic and encouraging. Together we were sure that it was an isolated cleft lip and that he'd have one surgery and be done.

The results of the MRI brought mixed emotions. We learned that our baby boy had a complete, unilateral cleft lip and a complete cleft palate. (cleft palate is a congenital fissure, or hole, in the roof of the mouth, resulting from incomplete fusion of the palate during embryonic development). They couldn't be 100% sure about the severity of the palate until the baby was born, but they told us they were pretty sure it was a complete cleft of the palate. I cried, again.

Through my research I knew that if the palate was affected, it meant a lifetime of surgeries, instead of just one. It meant a lifetime of feeding issues, speech issues, dental issues... it meant an entire team of doctors and doctor visits and frequent trips to Boston for the next 18 years. It was overwhelming. BUT, it was, thankfully, "just" a cleft. There was nothing else wrong with our baby. He didn't have Downs, his heart looked perfect, and there were no other abnormalities they could see. This was excellent news, the news we were hoping for! So while we were upset about the cleft palate, we were overjoyed by everything else.

(part 4 coming soon..)