Pardon the delay in my writing…it has been a slightly bizarre weekend with ups and downs, and I just didn’t have the energy and ambition to write anything. I will explain.
But first, a little bit of backstory. I have a little secret that very few people are aware of, but now it’s time to let the cat out of the bag. Melanie and I are expecting our first child, and are currently at almost three months. There…I’ve said it, and now I can officially start writing about my feelings on this subject (positive, let me assure you). That’s for another day, I need to write about what happened this weekend, first.
On Friday, I was sitting at my desk at work, waiting to hear from Melanie who was seeing her doctor. It was a fairly quiet day, and I was just about to start writing when the phone rang. Melanie was on the other line, extremely upset, telling me to come home. When I asked why, she just repeated her statement and hung up.
Now, in my place what would you be thinking at that exact moment? I automatically assumed that we had lost the child and already put myself into a mental state where I could be strong for my wife yet still grieve for my child. The drive home was a trip of despair.
Melanie was just sitting on the couch when I rushed into the apartment, and after a few quiet moments she told me the doctor thought the pregancy was not viable. Apparently the Ultrasound showed nothing in the sack, and he thought the fetus was still in the fallopian tubes which would be a fatal situation to Melanie if it was allowed to grow. This news was very upsetting, as I’m sure you can understand.
Her doctor had set up a rush Ultrasound appointment that afternoon to get a second opinion on the results, so we drove there in relative silence not knowing what to expect.
Melanie was taken into the Ultrasound room on her own, I was not allowed to be there for the initial test. My heart was in my throat and I tried very unsuccessfully to do some reading to get my mind off the reason we were there. Suddenly, Melanie burst out of the room and gloriously shouted “There’s a heartbeat”. Still not knowing if we were in the clear, we both rushed into the room where a second part of the test was performed, and we were able to see the baby, fully in it’s sack…all apendages forming normally. Seeing the heartbeat fluttering on the screen was the most joyous thing I could ever imagine and I felt a little misty. We beat the odds…our child was still alive, and apparently very healthy.
No, I don’t know yet if it’s a boy or a girl. At eleven weeks you cannot tell that kind of thing, and we are tryingt to leave it a surprise anyway.
So, to sum up what happened. I don’t blame the doctor for making the diagnosis…he worked with what he had in his hand. I blame the previous Ultrasound technician and lab for a totally botched job (different clinic then where we had the final result, btw). The Ultrasound they did was at 5 weeks, and it took them 4 weeks to get it to our doctor. Also, they only scanned one area of her stomach, which is neglectful. I am seriously angry at them, and if the result we received on Friday had been negative I would consider suing them for malpractice. I mean…4 weeks to get results? They had them ready too…they just sat on them because they were too lazy to find out a fax number (they apparently had lost it, though did have the phone number).
However…everything seems to be cool, so I’m not going to spread any further bad karma by going after others. We have come out on top in this situation. Following the event, I was still kind of stunned, and wanted to really wrap my mind around this whole thing…that’s why I didn’t write previously. I have other things to catch up on though, so will take a crack at that later on today.