Yesterday when I walked into the doctor’s office for Sunday’s heartbeat appointment, I was sure I would only hear bad news.
The office was unusually slow and Chris and I were the only ones in the waiting room— even the tv with the home improvement channel was turned off. It felt awkward and I didn’t want to be there.
The nurse who I usually see walking around was nowhere to be seen and I waited a little longer than I normally do. I began to wonder why. Everything felt a little off.
When the nurse finally appeared and called my name she wasn’t smiling and I wasn’t smiling. I did try and make a joke since I sensed her nervousness by saying, “I know we both don’t want to be doing this.” She normally looks Chris and I in the eyes and smiles, but not this day.
I immediately went into the exam room and she asked if I wanted to get weighed like normal and I told her, “Not today I just want to make this fast and get out of here.” I noticed that she was very hesitant in all she was doing.
Suddenly, the extremely kind midwife who I mentioned in an earlier post popped out of nowhere and said it was her turn to do the heartbeat check. Now— for these appointments, I’m only scheduled to see one of two nurses so it was kind of unusual that the midwife (although I was very glad) was going to check for the heartbeat.
She was very sweet and asked how I was doing. She told me that the only thing I could do is handle it the best way I know how and so on. I shared with her that finding the heartbeat has become more difficult with each week and that I’ve been feeling very little movement.
However, when she placed the doppler on my stomach, we immediately heard a strong regular heartbeat. I couldn’t believe it. I silently cried. Sunday’s heartbeat was even a normal rate. Usually it’s high. Not sure if that even means anything.
I mentioned how I had feared and was sure the baby had passed away last Friday. I just had a bad feeling. It was based on fear.
She was very happy for me and shared that Kristin, my nurse was scared today, too. Now I understand why it was the midwifes turn; She was just helping out a concerned nurse.
As I left the office my nurse was at the front desk and I noticed her searching the midwifes’ face for the result of the heartbeat check. There was another patient in front of me so when I caught her eye and she turned to me I whispered, “She’s still alive.”
My nurse quickly gave me a quiet hug, smiled and showed me that she had goose bumps she was so happy. I told her I couldn’t believe it and I think I found a little hope again.
All the way home, I couldn’t stop thinking, “I can’t believe it.” Then the pessimist in me said, “Well, she still isn’t 20 weeks. Not until Thursday.” I just hate that voice of doubt which you know just isn’t from God. But you sometimes listen to it. And think.
But I know this— that she’s still alive, her heart is still beating, she might have a chance. And if she doesn’t, then I’m getting more time with her than I was supposed to. And I count that as a blessing.