Rebecca's Story Part I
It's been almost eight years since the day Jeff and I went in for what was supposed to be a routine 20-week scan of our baby. Because of our insurance, we were at a stand-alone facility, rather than the in-house technician at my doctor's office... We were mainly there (for our part) to find out the gender. Looking back, I'm so grateful our other kids didn't attend the appointment with us. They were waiting at home with my parents, who had come into town to celebrate my Mom's birthday (and celebrate finding out baby's gender.)
It only took about 2 minutes for me to know something was wrong.
The technician stopped talking to me while still moving the wand back and forth over my jelly-splatted belly... she began whispering things to herself and kept going back again and again to baby's brain.
Perhaps in an attempt to distract me or cover up her own concern, she moved on to looking for the gender, but Rebecca was turned and had her legs pulled up so we could not see... it would be more than a week later - through bloodwork - that we would learn that she was a girl.
Again with the silence. Again with the searching and clicking - looking at baby's brain. Then she excused herself, and said she was coming right back with another technician. And I knew.
While I waited, the song my friend Teesa used to play on her guitar when we lived in China came rushing through my mind.
When you pass... through the waters... I will be with you...
And the wind... and the waves... will not overcome you...
Do... not... fear... for I will be with you....
I have called... you by name... and you are mine....
I sang it in my head - maybe I hummed it- I don't remember. The technicians came... more searching and talking to themselves until they finally told me I would have to schedule an appointment and talk to my doctor. I numbly went through the motions of cleaning off my belly, using the bathroom, paying our bill, and walking out into the oddly bright sunlight.
Back in the car I think I remember Jeff praying with me... and then we went down the street to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant where there's barely 10 tables, the television is playing something in Spanish, and the waiter hardly speaks English.
My favorite kind of place... and I remember it feeling so odd to have everyone and everything around me seem so normal and almost festive when there was a storm of confusion and worry and sadness inside me.
Jeff and I sipped on a Mexican coke while I wondered if everything I had just experienced had really happened.... then we talked about what we might could expect in the weeks to come, and what we would tell the kids. I immediately began hoping that the little baby I was carrying would turn out to have downs syndrome - at least then I could hope for a living child. I pulled out my phone and got on Facebook to message my friend Stacey-Jean, who had a precious baby with downs syndrome, and let her know what was going on so they could pray for us.
Later that day, we ended up telling the kids that baby didn't let us see the gender and we would have to wait... we let my parents know that there were some things that conceded us, but we didn't know anything yet.
In the days that followed, my doctor's nurse, Maria - who became a hero to me during this pregnancy - made quick work of getting me in to see our doctor, who was so compassionate with us and let us decide if we wanted to see a specialist.... we had bloodwork done to confirm that we were likely dealing with a form of trisomy, and we moved forward and made an appointment with a doctor in Houston.
That doctor's appointment was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced.
In the first minute of that very detailed ultra-sound, the specialist was able to show me that our baby (who by now we knew through was a GIRL) was not actually growing a brain. She had a brain stem, but no brain growth.... on top of that, most of her major internal organs were not okay.
I listened through a stream of tears while Jeff held my hand and compassionate nurses handed me tissues - I listened to this specialist tell me how foolish it would be to continue this pregnancy. How I was getting older... I'd already had multiple c-sections... how the baby's condition would certainly put my own life in danger, and how the baby wasn't going to survive anyway, so it was foolish to continue this unviable pregnancy.
We didn't expect him to understand - and could care less if he did - nothing would ever make us consider killing a baby. If our child wasn't going to live, that would be up to God - not us.
We pulled ourselves together, left the examination room - I think we paid the bill at that point - and as fast as I could, I found the solace of a bathroom stall and barely got the door latched before I let out the sobs. At some point I think a mom and little girl came into the bathroom so I tried to sob quietly as I silently cried out to God that I did not want this - that I didn't think I could do this..... and then after a long pause I kept sobbing as I quietly whispered to Him "I'll do this if you want me to."
I left the bathroom and found Jeff waiting, smiling sadly but supportively. Ever the strong oak. He held my hand and led me out of the complex and into the parking garage and put me in the vehicle. The air was hot and I was sleepy; I didn't feel like I could cry anymore. When he started the car, I remember the Rebecca St. James song that was playing...
"I see the waters rising
I feel the coming storm
When fear is overwhelming
I hear 'peace, be still'..."
I knew I was going to have to ride out this storm... but I wouldn't be alone.
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