Confirmation

Colin stayed with Grandma and Grandpa that night. As much as I wanted to cling onto my son with dear life, I was so afraid of him seeing me such a mess. I knew with them that he would be happy and have fun and needed the time to figure out what was going on so I would be prepared to tell him what had happened.

Mark and I went to the doctor the next day and, because he was in an emergency c-section with another patient, we had no choice but to sit in the waiting room. We watched other families come out of their ultrasounds with their black and white photos, looking over them with their spouses, families, and young children.... in total bliss with the discovery of the genders of their babies. We saw other patients come in for their post delivery follow ups beaming over their newborn babies and everyone cooing over the little bundles of joy that they had with them.

For a moment I forgot what had happened the night before in the emergency room. I thought about how Mark and I would feel when we found out the gender of our baby and had the gender reveal party we had been planning over Memorial Day weekend. I thought about everyone stopping us to say how beautiful our baby was and us glowing with joy.

But then I remembered. I sat in silent tears barely able to breathe as I watched the clock go by. Nearly an hour since my appointment time had passed and it took all of my effort to continue sitting in a waiting room, feeling taunted by all of the joy and happiness in the room when my world was falling apart.

Finally a nurse must have noticed my beat red face and the pile of tissues I held in my hand and graciously offered to move me to another room while we waited. We were only in that room for a few minutes until they took us back for another ultrasound.

For just a split second I felt hope again. I told myself that last night was just really bizarre and that Mark and I would walk out of this room feeling even more grateful for the beating heartbeat of our little one. I told myself that the resident didn't know what she was doing the night before and that the tech would find the heartbeat without any problems.

I held my breath as the ultrasound started, and because the screen was once again turned away from us the only thing I could study was the face of the ultrasound tech.  I could tell she didn't have the news I had so hoped for.

I asked if she saw a heartbeat. I asked if I was miscarrying. I asked if maybe we just needed to come back a different day.  The only answer she had was " I'm sorry".

I asked if I could please see the screen and she turned it towards us. I stared at the black and white picture, trying to cherish it as much as I could. Still having a hard time believing that the flutter we saw before was completely gone.

We met with the doctor and said he would have someone from the surgery center call to set up a D&C.

Colin came home that evening. I held it together long enough to tuck him in bed and closed the door, just to crawl in bed and cry some more.