ANATOMY ANGST
🌷This week was momentous for many reasons. First, this marked the farthest in pregnancy we have gotten. We learned of our son’s passing at some point between the 18th and 19th week of my pregnancy. Seeing our little lady squirm and drink (she was really loving the amniotic fluid), and see that little heart beat all strong 151 times was heavenly. I’ve accepted that I’ll never be able to really go into a doctor’s appointment, much less an ultrasound, without the anxiety and nerves of wondering “is she still ok?”
This brings me to the second piece of this week, the all-important anatomy scan. This scan is done between 18 and 20 weeks and looks at all the little details of baby – her digestive system, legs, her arms, her feet and hands, her kidneys. A tech performs the scan and takes a bunch of pictures, and then a perinatologist (high-risk OB doctor) goes over the pictures. The goal is to see if baby is developing and growing properly and note any potential birth or internal defects. As anyone who has had one of these knows, this is “the big one.” The ultrasound holding the most weight.
Phil, myself, and Kimmy were all seated in this dark room. The tech comes, pulls Kimmy’s shirt up and gets to work. She doesn’t say a thing. She just moves her wand around Kimmy’s belly, snaps pictures. Silence. I’m not talking silence for a few seconds. I’m talking silence for ten minutes. I could hear my heartbeat through my chest. I started to shake. Finally, Phil spoke up, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but is everything ok?” The tech very casually goes, “oh, yes, I just can’t really talk and work. I’ll talk more in a few minutes.” Well, she didn’t talk more.
Phil, Kimmy, and I then began joking with one another, feeling slightly more secure that the tech said that things looked ok to her. But I was pissed. Any person working in a perinatologist office knows, the clients coming to see you have already been through hell, or they are encountering a high risk pregnancy. Either way, just a bit of kindness, less coldness, even a simple explanation up front about how fuc*(#*#^ silent it is going to be, would be helpful.
To end the technician’s part, she noted our baby’s stomach was REALLY full (and this could be concerning), and the cord might be improperly attached. Um, HELLO?!!! Talking about scaring the absolute shit out of us.
Eventually, the doctor comes arrives, and does to town again on Kimmy’s belly, looking at the cord, the stomach, and the spine. Ultimately, she had no concerns. The cord was fine, baby’s arm was in the way, and she just needed to go to the bathroom (which is why her stomach was so big).
Anyway, the anatomy scan. What a trip. We have been talking about this one for a while, but I have to say, I am so happy to have it behind us.
If there was one message I could give to any clinicians out there, when you are aware people have been through it (whether with their pregnancy or any other health issue,) please, please, handle with care. A little kindness, a little gentleness, an ounce of compassion, can go a long way. No patient chooses to be in a position where they are high risk or prone to potentially bad outcomes. 🌷
