"I'm not finding a heartbeat."
This one single phrase, spoken only hours before, was still ringing in my ears as if I was hearing it for the first time.
Today was supposed to be marked as one of the most exciting days of my life; but instead the dream that I'd had of becoming a mother since I was a little girl was shattered with one simple phrase.
That morning had been filled with excitement as LB and I, my husband of four years, had gotten up and prepared for the day. Our appointment was at 10:00 and we were to hear our baby's heartbeat for the first time. For nine weeks now, I had been taking extra care with everything I had done and eaten. I weighed everything with the possible effects it could have on my unborn child. I had read everything I could find on pregnancy so that I could be one hundred percent prepared for everything that was to happen over the next nine months. I wanted to do everything within my power to protect that baby; keep it safe.
The hour and a half drive to the Dr.'s office seemed to only take half the time. The conversation was light and cheerie filled with pauses, here and there, so we could sing along with the radio as our favorite songs were aired. We were excited! We had been preparing for a family for months, once it finally arrived we had been to excited to keep it a secret and by five weeks we were so near bursting that we told both families of the upcoming new addition. And now both families were at home waiting. Waiting to hear about the baby and see the first picture.
The wait at the Dr.'s office was short. LB sat in the small examination room as the chatty nurse conducted the dreadful weigh in and collectted a urine sample. Then came the time for all those unavoidable pesky questions: "When was the first day of your last menstral period?" "Has anyone in your family ever had a miscarriage?" "Does anyone in your family have a birthdefect?" "Are you taking any kind of prenatal supplement?" Once the nurse had collected my life story she handed it over to the Dr. so she could get down to the important stuff.
"Well, Amy, you are in good health and I don't see anything in your health history that concerns me. Let's do a pelvic exam and then I'll bring in the ultrasound machine." Dr. Bishop said with shared excitement. As Dr. Bishop left the room to get the ultrasound machine, LB moved to my other side so he could view the monitor. My heart began to beat hard. This was the moment. The moment that we were going to get to see the heartbeat of the baby we had created. The baby that I had cared for, thought about, planned for and protected for nine weeks.
Dr. Bishop squeezed a generous helping of the cold ultrasound gel onto my pudgy belly. I waited anxiously to see the monitor as the Dr. moved the wand across my tummy. Dr. Bishop studied the screen for a long time knitting her eyebrows together with a look of concern. That's when she looked at us both and said: "I'm not finding a heartbeat."
