He Takes My Heart With Him

The First of the Waiting

After the telephone call from the nurse, I felt numb. I don't even know if I called my husband at work and told him or if I waited until he got home. I don't remember what I did or how I felt until a few days later.

We had to wait about a week and a half for the Level II ultrasound. It's strange how your mind works. We had three other children, and I was always busy. And I would . . . forget. We would be going about our daily routine and, all of a sudden, it was like someone slammed me in the chest. I would remember that our baby might have something wrong with him. Abnormal. It was like the air would burn my throat as I would breathe. My shoulders would drop and my head would fall forward and I would sway slightly as I fought back the sobs. I would squeeze my eyes shut and all I could do was say the same thing over and over in my head. "Please, God. Please, God. Please, God. Please, God."

I really don't know if I was begging Him to get me through the moment or to have our baby be okay.

Our baby. Our little, precious, amazing baby. God, please let it be a mistake. Make the test be wrong.

One of the things they told me that could skew the test results was a wrong due date. And so I would calculate and recalculate. I would go over the results from our three previous ultrasounds. Just a wrong due date. That's all I want it to be.

But it was always the same.

So, I would go on until the next wave of panic hit. And I would calculate and recalculate. Again. And again. Please, God. Please.