The Ultrasound

October 19, 2010 J, Alanna and I went in for my second level ultrasound appointment early in the morning.  We'd kept Alanna out of school that morning to come with us because we wanted to see her baby brother together as a family.  She had not been at the first ultrasound where they diagnosed the Placenta Previa and the elective ultrasound we'd done to determine gender was truly just a quick peek where we really didn't get to see him moving about.

We arrived and entered the ultrasound room as planned.  The technician found baby Archer and began doing measurements and pointing out things to Alanna, Here's his foot, do you see his heart beating?, etc.  She confirmed that indeed baby Archer was a boy and then moved on to double checking the placement of the placenta to see if it had moved at all.  She hesitated.

I caught the hesitation.  She recovered nicely, but she hesitated.  She continued on to tell me that the placenta had not moved, but that she wanted to check a few other things and then bring the doctor in to take a look.  I knew.  I knew something was very, very wrong.  But I also knew that we'd just seen our little boy moving about and all of the measurements were fine.  Two hands, two feet, a heart beating, normal average measurements standard routine ultrasound.

When the doctor came in he reviewed her findings and they talked a bit in hushed tones using the super secret medical language that they think those who are not in the medical field won't catch.  I suppose in a lot of ways they were being kind and not trying to worry Alanna.  I have enough medicolegal terminology in my dictionary from way back college courses that I caught the gist.  There were baby blood vessels where they shouldn't be, outside the umbilical cord.

The doctor, who I'll never forget because he was wearing a bowtie, gave me a grave look like I was going to blow up at any moment and there'd be shrapnel all over the examination room.  He explained that they'd found something they needed to look at more closely, but that he wanted a second opinion because it is extremely difficult to diagnose.  He reassured us that I was fine to go home, but asked if I needed to go back in to work or could be home for the remainder of the day.  I said it would be fine to swing by work on my way home and grab a few things then work remote.  He said that they'd be giving us a call after he was able to get the second opinion.

I don't know why I left thinking that it really was ok and that I'd probably just need a C-Section as part of our birth plan in several months.  For whatever reason the request to go home rather than work really didn't strike me as a red flag.  Perhaps I simply thought that they certainly wouldn't let me go home if I really was the time bomb that his original facial expression had indicated.

So we stopped by work, I let my team know I'd be at home and sent J to take Alanna to school.

The nurse called me about an hour after we'd left the office.
Nurse:  "We need you to come back in."
Me: "Ok.  When would you like me there?  My husband has taken my daughter to school, but should be back shortly."
Nurse: "As soon as you can would be good."
Me: "Back up to the clinic?"
Nurse: "No.  We actually need you to go down to the hospital.  Bring an overnight bag."
Me: PAUSE.  "Ok."

I hung up and went to pack literally an overnight bag.  Enough for one night.  Again, I don't know why I thought that was sensical.  I suppose I figured that whatever tests they needed to do were just to figure things out and may take 24 hours.  I waited for J to come back home and we headed downtown.

They admitted me and took me to a room.  The attending explained that they'd do additional testing in a week (A WEEK!!) and that I'd need to be on hospital bed rest until that time.  That they had identified what they believed to be Vasa Previa and would confirm the following Monday.

At this point in time no one really, truly told me what Vasa Previa was other than very high level.  It's like they knew how serious it was, but were trying to protect me and not tell me.

So believing that I'd likely be going home in a week, I called work and asked if I could work remote for the week.  I sent J home to get some more things and the laptop and settled in to my 7 day countdown.

In my head there was a slim chance that I had this Vasa Previa thing.  I had this huge window visualized and the window was wide open.  I just had to make it through a week, then back to normal until Little A was due.

Every nurse who came in, every doctor I spoke with (and there were a LOT) over the course of the next 7 days shut that window just a tiny bit.

The nurse who finally made it crystal clear to me that I was not going home was the one who came in and pointed at a large painting on the wall and said, "You know, sweetie, when you start getting Christmas cards you can cover up that painting with them.  None of us are overly fond of it and it'd be a fun way to decorate.  You can also bring in a little rug or a lamp if you'd like to make it more homey."

It was OCTOBER.  I wasn't due until mid-January.  I was only going to be there a WEEK.  Christmas cards??? Lamp and Rug???  I looked her in the eye and asked, "I'm not going home, am I?"

"No."  I thank her for her honesty.  She was truly the only one who didn't tiptoe around things with me.  She told it to me straight.  She explained the actual picture of what was going to happen.

Because my doctor wasn't on rounds until 4 days after I'd been admitted, every other doctor hadn't wanted to step on his toes and told me the bare minimum.  It was like trying to Google with the wrong phrase.  You'd get close to the real answer you were looking for, but just not quite get the full picture.

Hospital Life up next and the verdict after the follow-up ultrasound in the hospital with the specialists.