For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
Psalm 139:13 NKJV
My doctor
requested another ultrasound at the end of February. Once again I ingested the
required amounts of water and waited excitedly for another glance at my
unborn baby.
Instead of
my physician, an ultrasound technician performed the procedure. It was yet
again another professional money-saving decision that proved to be catastrophic
for me and for my baby. (Only later did I learn that static ultrasound pictures
were of little use in diagnosing potential placenta problems like mine, since
the placenta needed to be viewed dynamically – pulsing with blood – while the
ultrasound was being performed.)
The
technician slowly moved the ultrasound head over my swollen abdomen and
carefully pointed out all the crucial anatomical parts, except the reproductive
organs, since I remained adamant about not knowing the baby’s sex until the
birth. Initially the baby slept, refusing to reposition itself for better
pictures. Finally, the little body wiggled, then flailed its arms and sucked
frantically on its thumb in response to the ultrasound vibrations. The technician
commented several times about my baby being exceptionally photogenic. I gushed
with joy.
I’d
experienced a stunningly intense surge of love when I first witnessed my son
Parker, with his tiny beating heart, on an ultrasound screen. It was the
unexpected impact of first hearing, then actually witnessing that life-sustaining organ thumping out a loud, steady
rhythm. Nothing had ever affected me the way his beating heart did.
The
identical emotion engulfed me as I viewed this new child; this baby who needed
me to protect it as completely and selflessly as I could, even before its
birth. The awesome responsibility God entrusted to me suddenly seemed
overwhelming and fearsome.
Suddenly I
thought about how I was caring for my baby – how I should be caring for both of us in the future – then squeezed my
eyes closed as tears dribbled to my nose and cheeks. I felt convicted. I hadn’t
been doing a stellar job of caring for either one of us. Those lifestyle
changes I’d thought about while confined to bed with severe morning sickness
sprang to mind.
While I
contended with my emotions, the technician continued to move the ultrasound
head around my abdomen. Suddenly, she ran over a tender area on my stomach that
had been causing me pain. The monitor showed a bulge of the uterus into the
womb. She said it looked like a large contraction of the uterine muscle.
Whatever it was, it hurt, and pressing on it produced considerable pain.
Yet it
wasn’t that symptom that worried her. With her eyes fixed on the monitor and worry
registered on her face, she spoke in a concerned voice, “Your placenta is really
low, and you have tissue over your cervix.” She pointed to it on the monitor.
“But I can’t make a judgment call about it; your doctor will have to make the
diagnosis.”
My mind
raced. A friend had experienced a condition called placenta previa, where the placenta attaches itself partially or
completely over the cervix. They discovered her pregnancy complication following
an episode of spotting – usually the first sign – in her fifth month. Because
of the problem, she needed confinement to bed for three months. I knew it meant
an automatic Cesarean-section delivery. But I was ignorant of the possibly
serious – or fatal – consequences this condition poses to both mother and
child. My heart pounded wildly as my fears escalated and euphoria deteriorated.
The
technician completed the ultrasound and copied the pictures for me. The
calculations indicated I was close to sixteen weeks, and my photogenic, active
baby looked great. That was what I really wanted to hear! That’s what all
mothers and fathers long to hear: that their babies appear physically healthy
and active.
We’d made
it through the worst of the severe morning sickness and survived. And Chris and I were
tough enough emotionally to handle any unforeseen physical problems that might
be diagnosed after the baby’s birth. Everything was progressing well, according
to schedule and the well-ordered plan.
The
technician sent me home with a small bundle of pictures to show the proud
father. But show and tell would be delayed until after I returned from another
late night at work.
I’d think
about the lifestyle changes I needed to make later, when I had more time.
_________________________________________
NEXT WEEK: The
complication is misdiagnosed, and I make the tragic mistake of not insisting on
another in-office ultrasound.
Until then, thanks for joining me!
Blessings,
Andrea
For more information on prenatal ultrasounds and their
safety, drawbacks and benefits, please see the following links:
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