He Takes My Heart With Him

A Blessing - Although We Didn't Know It Yet

The technician slid the wand around on my belly, stopping to add more goo, now and then. She typed in words and measured and stored pictures in the hard drive. I wanted to ask her what every word was, what every measurement meant. But, I didn't. I found that, now, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. I needed to see everything. We watched him wave his hands up above his head and open and close his mouth. We grinned when he stuck his thumb in his mouth. "Just like his sisters," we said. The technician pointed out his arms, legs, toes, profile. Even his little boy parts.

Lastly, she went over his spine. Up and down, back and forth. Taking picture after picture. It seemed to go on for a long time and it was silent except for the clicking of the computer keys. Finally, she put the wand aside. I looked up at her and panicked. "Is he okay? Did you see anything?" I begged her for any information.

She smiled and said he looked completely fine to her, but that the radiologist would look over the films. The radiologist might want some more pictures, she explained, so we needed to wait until he had looked them over. Then, she left.

My husband and I looked at each other and we each grinned. A wavering grin, but hopeful. She said he looked fine to her. She knows what she's looking for, right? Of course, that's her job. We bantered back and forth and we prayed. Simple words, "Thank you, God."

The radiologist came back with the technician. He said he needed to check a couple of things. He first went over the spine, again. Then, he began moving the wand over the baby's heart. I felt my face sag and I watched the radiologist with a look of despair. He was pointing things out to the intern that had come in with him, murmuring things I couldn't quite make out. Then, he turned to us.

"I don't see anything wrong with your baby's spine," he said. "But there is a spot on his esophagus, right by his heart." We stared at him, not wanting to understand. What was happening here?

The radiologist explained that it was probably just some gray matter that would disappear, but he wanted to check it again in about two weeks. I didn't fully understand what he was saying, other than there still might be something wrong. But, he seemed optimistic and rather unconcerned about it all. "Just to be sure," he said.

We thanked him and the technician and I wiped the now cold goo off my stomach. My husband and I grasped hands, without thinking, as we walked out into the hall. I stopped in front of the restroom and asked my husband to wait a minute. Then, I walked in, entered a stall, leaned into the wall, and began to sob. Sobs that came from my gut, wrenching out of me in heaving breaths and moaning sounds.

When I could, I wiped my hands across my cheeks and went to the sink. I washed away the mascara and tears. Then, I went to go home with my husband, keeping my hand on our baby.