Left my kids with a friend so I could go to my 12 week prenatal appointment. The appointment was routine until my OB tried to find a heartbeat with the doppler. When she couldn't find it, she opted for an internal ultrasound. I could tell by her expression that something wasn't right, but she continued to look and punch buttons on the ultrasound machine. Finally, she asked me if I'd had any cramping or bleeding (no). After what seemed like forever, she turned the monitor so I could see it and said, "Chloe, this is your uterus. There's nothing there. Maybe the fetus wasn't forming properly so your body reabsorbed it. The only sign of pregnancy is thicker lining of the uterine wall."
She went on to ask about my previous appointment which had been with a nurse practitioner who had found a bean-sized baby and cardiac activity with an external ultrasound around eight weeks. I had witnessed it on the monitor myself.
My doctor left the room to talk to her nurse, and I sat there in shock. It's a very surreal feeling to enter a doctor's office with a blooming tummy for a 12 week prenatal appointment and hear that you have no sign of pregnancy, especially when you've had no sign of miscarriage. The nurse returned saying she could get me a radiology appointment for 4:15 that afternoon. I had four hours to wait, to wonder, to agonize.
I headed downstairs for bloodwork, feeling like a character in some sort of "twilight zone" type show. By then the reality was starting to sink in, and I was having an increasingly hard time keeping my emotions in check, although my ongoing thought was "God, I know You have a plan in this." I didn't really pray, just kept saying, "I know You have a plan." Eventually, though, I had to flip open the funny pages of a dated Reader's Digest to distract myself. Thankfully the nurse called me ahead of others waiting before me, one of many fingerprints of God in my day.
Finally, I made it back out to my car and lost it. I called my husband and scared him because he thought I had lost our middle child, so choked was I with emotion. (The ugly cry has garnered that name for a reason!) I cleared that up, and he promised to come home early to go to the radiology appointment with me that afternoon. I was so emotional, I was in no condition to drive, so I called my MIL to pray with me. Unbeknownst to me, she had just finished a prayer meeting when her phone rang. When she found out what was going on, she immediately started praying over me. After she hung up, the ladies in her prayer meeting prayed over her as she stood in proxy for me.
I regained enough composure to finish the conversation and get to my friend's house. I distinctly remember walking in and saying "they said I lost the baby." To which she responded, "but your tummy is growing!" I cried with her, prayed with her, and gathered my kids to get them to their own doctor's appointment. It was a God-thing that my eldest had her little friend to distract her from Mommy being distraught. Before leaving, my MIL called me back and told me to not lose hope. My friend's parting words were a promise to pray for green lights on the way to the pediatrician. Amazingly, I think I only had to stop for one or two. That's unheard of on the road I was traveling. Another touch of God.
Sitting in the ped's waiting room thinking I'd lost my baby was awful as I watched all the moms with their new babies. Again, my cry to Heaven was "God, I know You have a plan. Please help me trust You in this." Numerous things crossed my mind: Intense gratitude for my two healthy children, replaying the last 3 months - did I somehow imagine being pregnant?, did I lose the baby unknowingly in a midnight trip to the bathroom?
Kids' appointment finished, I picked up DH and we headed to radiology. The receptionist had to have been placed there by God Himself. I got the impression she had squeezed me in at the end of the day. She was kind, compassionate, sensitive, personable. The technician called me back and placed the wand on my belly. Immediately, a busy, healthy baby, appeared on the monitor. She didn't have to go searching or prode for signs of life. I could count baby's fingers and toes, watch her do somersaults, and hiccup. If I had any tears left, I would have wept. We left with pictures of a properly developing 12 week old little girl.
Out in the car, I called my MIL to tell her the good news, and she got the giggles. Not exactly the response I expected! She said she had been waiting for that call. One of the ladies in her prayer group felt God laying things on her heart to pray for, including an assurance that the baby would be healthy. MIL said she had never left a prayer meeting with more assurance that God had everything handled.
My doctor called later, apologizing for scaring me. All she could say is "this is just so bizarre."
I am still in awe. I suppose there are those in the medical community who could come up with an explanation of what happened, although a dear friend from said community smiles with the confidence that only God can explain such an occurrence. My doctor sure can't come up with a scientific explanation beyond that the baby must not like her! ;-) In my heart, there is no doubt that God gave my sweet one back to us that day. I don't know why. Have no way to explain why I would be given a second chance when thousands of others are not. It is humbling. I feel unworthy. And yet, I trust that God has a perfect plan, and I am honored to be a part of it.
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