The Ultrasound Appointment

The Ultrasound Appointment

            We settled into the room with the kids.  The lights were dim, and Makenna and Jonathan were looking at the posters of pregnant women on the wall and started asking questions.  We explained what we could, while the ultrasound technician entered my information into the computer.  When she was ready she asked me to lay on the table, and Brian sat in the chair behind my head.  He was trying to have the kids sit on his lap, but Jonathan kept trying to get down and explore the room.  Makenna got scared when the technician applied the gel to my belly, so we explained that it wouldn’t hurt me, and then she got nervous because she didn’t want to see the baby’s skeleton bones.  We reassured her it wouldn’t be scary, it was just a picture on the tv.  The technician told us she was going to start taking measurements, and then we’d get to the fun stuff afterwards.  When she put the wand on my belly, applied pressure and the baby didn’t move, I knew.  But I stayed quiet and desperately watched the screen.  When the baby’s profile was visible and I could see his spine and the shape of his head, I saw there was no blip of a heartbeat in his chest and I knew.  I wanted to ask the woman to stop, so I could take Brian’s hand and tell him our baby had died, but I didn’t, I couldn’t.  A few more minutes went by and we watched the images on the screen as Makenna and Jonathan asked, “What is that? What is that now?”  And we answered, “I don’t know yet we have to wait.”  I listened to the clicking of the keyboard as the technician typed and continued to take measurements.  Then she paused, and I looked at the expression on her face and my fear became reality.  She put the ultrasound wand down, and covered my belly with the paper sheet and very quietly said, “I’m afraid I don’t have very good news.”

“I know.” I said.

“I don’t see a heartbeat.” She told me.

“I know.” I said.

“I’m so sorry.” She replied.

Brian noticed we were whispering and told Makenna and Jonathan to hush and asked what was going on.  And the technician said, “I’m so sorry, I don’t see a heartbeat, I’m so sorry.”  He said, “What? I don’t understand. What? How does this happen?  I don’t understand.”  The technician told us she was going to get the doctor to come in and talk to us, and she walked out of the room.  Brian told me he was sorry, and then we started to cry.

The Specialist came into the room and looked at the monitor.  He and the technician talked technical talk and the only thing I remember hearing him say to her was, “Yeah, see the collapse there?”  He sat down next to me and said, “I’m so sorry, there’s no heartbeat.  I’m guessing you felt movement recently?”  I told him the last time I can definitively say I felt something was Wednesday.  I didn’t know if the baby had moved yesterday.  He said from what he could tell, the baby had died fairly recently, within the last day or so.  He told me that we would go into his office to discuss what happens next.  Then he left the room.  The technician kept apologizing, and I kept saying, ”It’s OK.”  It felt strange to have her apologize and then have to comfort her.  She seemed genuinely distraught by what was happening.  She was helping us relocate to the Specialist’s office and as I walked out of the room I turned around and asked her, “Do you have any of the images saved?  Can you print some out?  Can I have some?”  She said, “Yes, of course I can print what I have, I’m afraid I don’t have very good views, but I have something.”  I must have caught her off guard.  I’m guessing most people don’t ask to have an ultrasound image after they’ve been told that their baby has died.   I thought it was odd that it wasn’t offered, and that I had to ask for them.

  As we walked through the hall to the Specialists office, I heard him instructing one of the nurses to call my doctor to alert him of the situation.  When he finally came into the room, he told us that we needed to go home and call my doctor to find out what he wanted us to do.  He said that since it was Christmas Weekend, my doctor might be out of town and he might want me to wait until Monday or Tuesday to be induced.  He told us that since he felt the baby had died recently, there was no medical reason why I couldn’t wait until I went into labor naturally.  It wasn’t dangerous for me to continue my daily activities while carrying a ‘deceased fetus’.    Ugh, that phrase just made my stomach churn.  I now had to walk out of the office and go home knowing I had a dead baby inside me.  I had to go to the hospital and endure labor to deliver my dead baby.  It was gross, it was sad, it was uncomfortable.  The weight in my body felt heavier than what I felt before.  But I was calm, I was aware of everything that was happening.  The Specialist offered his condolences again, and we walked to the waiting room.  As we were leaving the nurse asked if we needed to make another appointment and I said, “No Thank You.”

We put on our coats and walked to the car.  We held hands and we both cried during the drive home.