Diagnosis Day

A year ago today was perhaps the hardest day of my life.  Yes, Elisa's 'birthday' was hard, but at least on her birthday we were able to hold her and spend time with her.

Diagnosis day is a day I will never forget, it is burned into my mind, my soul forever.

A year ago, we knew going in that this day a year ago that it would be a hard day, but we had no idea how hard it would actually be.  We had back to back appointments at the high risk doctors from 9am all the way through until 3pm.  Ultrasounds, Doctors visits, meeting with the social worker, meetings with the genetic counselor.

Although I knew it was going to be a hard day, I really don't think I believed it could be as bad as it was.

I thought maybe something was wrong with Elisa, but that all it meant was perhaps a growth delay, maybe that she would be special needs, that we had our work cut out for us, but we would have her, so it would be worth it.

But that wasn't the case.

The ultrasound technician was nice enough, but she didn't talk very much.  She just took her measurements and pictures, recorded blood flow.

It was when we met with the doctor that everything came crashing down.

As soon as she came in I could tell it wasn't good. She sat down on the rolling stool between the computer and us and asked for details on our history.  We talked about losing Luca, the time it took us to get pregnant again with Elisa, and the bumpy road we had already had with our pregnancy with Elisa, the bleeding, bed rest and all.

After we were finished, she started to explain the situation.  Our baby had severe IUGR, Intra Uterine Growth Restriction.  IUGR it self is not a huge problem, it is not that rare, and is actually quite common in twin pregnancies.  But in most cases IUGR does not onset until late in the pregnancy, closer to 35 weeks so they are able to induce.  The baby has a risk due to being a preime, but they are able to be delivered, better out than in. but Elisa was diagnosed with early onset Severe IUGR.  She was nearly three weeks behind in all measurements, and it had onset at 19 weeks maybe even sooner. It was way to soon for her to be delivered.

At this point, they didn't know what was causing the IUGR, it could be genetic for which we would have blood draws later that day to find out that it was not genetic, or as we found out later, it had to do with a problem with the placenta.

The doctor explained that the only real solution to save a baby from IUGR is to deliver the baby, but because Elisa was only 19 weeks, she could not survive yet.  She needed to make it to at least the weight of a  25 weeker, which would likely be around 28 weeks for her.  The doctor explained that she would likely die before she reached the size where she could be delivered, that she had a less than 10% chance of survival, and if she did she would have a very long stay in the NICU and could very possibly pass away very shortly after birth.

It was as if a bomb was dropped on us.  Those who know me well know I don't really cry in public. In fact, Mark and my mom are really the only people who see me cry.  Don't get me wrong, I cry, and after losing Elisa I have cried A LOT, but for some reason I can't cry in public.

This was the exception.  As we were sitting there, the doctor explaining our situation, and options, tears fell like a waterfall from my eyes.  Silent, but nothing could stop them.

After the doctor finished explaining things, she moved on to what "we wanted to do"

She suggest termination, but Mark and I knew that was not what we wanted to do.

After everything was explained to us, the doctor said that if we were not going to terminate, then we didn't need to meet with the genetic counselor.  They only thing left to do was head back to the waiting room where they would call me back for my blood draws.

I know we were only sitting in the waiting room for probably about 5 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity.  As we sat there, tears flowed from my eyes in huge streams.  It wasn't the gasping, wailing cries that I do now that Elisa is gone.  But silent, hopeless tears, with the reality that there was nothing that I could do as a mother to save my baby girl.

We sat in the lobby as another women, nearly full term walked by to go in to her appointment and as she walked in, another women was being rolled out in a wheelchair as the doctor discussed with her that they would like to induce within the week. I knew logically that both women were obviously having a hard time too, or else they wouldn't be at a high risk doctor, but I wanted to do anything to be that far along with Elisa, to have the hope that she might make it home from the hospital.

After the blood draw we headed to the car to go home.  As soon as the door closed in the car, I broke down.  I couldn't believe that this was happening.  After all of our heartache of losing Luca, and of trying to get pregnant again.  All of the worry in the first trimester with Elisa.  We though everything would be ok.  But it wasn't going to be ok.  It was very likley we weren't going to get our "rainbow baby" that we were going to losing another child, and there was nothing we could do about it.

The Vancouver Beluga Whales

For my birthday this last weekend Mark planned a trip for us to Vancouver BC, specifically to see the Beluga Whales.    Getting out of town was a much needed change. With all of the upcoming anniversary dates, my birthday and the holidays I have been really down these last few weeks. It was good to get away.

I don't think I even need to say how much whales mean to me, especially beluga whales. Elisa was our "little baby beluga" and anytime I see anything whale it seems like it is a little "hello" from her up in heaven.

I knew seeing the belugas would be uplifting, but it was even more wonderful that I was expecting.

Not only did we get to see the belugas at the aquarium exhibit, but Mark was amazing and booked us the "beluga experience". We were able to explore behind the scenes of the Vancouver Aquarium and at the end, meet and feed a beluga whale!!  Mark was so wonderful to research and organize all of this.

It was amazing. These creatures are so beautiful and awe inspiring. And it felt like including my girls in my birthday. My heart was filled.

Here are some pictures from our day. Photo credit to the wonderful people at the Vancouver Aquarium

Aurora and Qila are the two belugas at the Vancouver Aquarium.  They are a mother-daughter pair, which also made this experience even more special for me.  We interacted mostly with Qila, the daughter,  shown here

This was so cool!

Mark got to shake her hand :)

They asked us how "in to it" we wanted to get, and we all agreed we wanted the full beluga experience.  That included being splashed by her big tail!

We included "beluga" in this last photo with the trainer, our guide, and the two other women who were in the Beluga Experience with us

Another Year Older

Today was my birthday. I know I'm supposed to be happy, and celebrating getting another year older, but this year was hard and I don't feel much like celebrating.

A year and two days ago, November 18th last year, was the day we first found out something might be wrong with Elisa. It was supposed to be a joyous day, the day we would get the ultrasound where we would see if we were having a boy or a girl. We had even planned a Gender Reveal party for later that weekend. Mark;s mom was flying in to Seattle specifically to come to the party and see if she was going to have a granddaughter or a grandson.

But that appointment didn't go the way we thought it would.

Looking back on the ultrasound now, I can see how the technician was taking more measurement than she may normally do, that she was being very quiet.

But to Mark and I we were just super excited to see our beautiful baby on the screen, and waiting for when the technician would tell us to look away, so we wouldn't accidentally see the gender (we wanted to wait and see with everyone else at the party).

So after the ultrasound we sat in the lobby for about a half hour while they reviewed the ultrasound and we waited for our check up with our OB.

We sat there looking at the ultrasound photos, being so happy that we finally made it this far. That things seemed to finally be going our way.

But when we got to see our Doctor we knew things were not right. She came in, sat us down and very sweetly said, "things just have to be so hard" she sat down and put her hand on me to comfort me as she continued to explain the situation. Our baby was three weeks behind growth targets, which was not normal, and they believed something was wrong. They didn't know what, or why, the equipment they had couldn't tell them enough, so we would have to schedule to be seen by a high risk doctor the next week.

We left the appointment shell-shocked. That an appointment that should be joyous and exciting turned in to dread, and that we would have to wait until the following Monday to figure out what was actually wrong.

So two days later, when my birthday rolled around, I did not feel like celebrating. I was worried and depressed about what might be wrong with my precious baby.

Now this year, as my birthday rolls around again, I don't feel like celebrating.

Those who know me well know I am a planner, and I like to have things in order. When I looked at my "life plan", I though I would have two children by now. I do, but no on sees them, they aren't here with me, and I have the ache in my heart of two losses. Even after all of that, I had hopped I would at least be pregnant again by now, and have the hope of a younger brother/sister for our angels. But even that hope was crushed.

I have succumbed to the fact that I cannot have a life that follows a plan, but I still grieve the life I wanted. Getting another year older with an empty house and  no light in sight that it will happen soon is hard. That and knowing that Elisa's official diagnosis day is just around the corner, coming up on Tuesday, I don't feel much like celebrating