Never the words you want to hear from a doctor.
Especially a doctor who just discussed your ultrasound with the tech.
It turns out Pickle has a heart defect. Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, to be exact.
The doctor drew us pictures and wrote down words and talked to us and attempted to reassure us. But, honestly, I’m still in shock and having a hard time making sense of it all.
What I do know: It’s not a defect that is going to go away as Pickle gets bigger. The doctor said Pickle “should” be OK while in the womb, but will require
surgery surgeries once he/she is born.
We have several upcoming appointments with specialists and surgeons over the coming weeks.
My heart is so sad. And heavy. And aching. And breaking.
And I’m having a lot of feelings. Guilt. Fear. Anxiety. Sadness (SO much sadness). Confusion. Anger. Hate. Love. You name it, it’s happening.
And every time I feel Pickle kick, I feel all of those feelings. And relief. At least for now. What happens if, at some point, Pickle stops kicking? What happens if … well, there are a lot of what ifs. That we can’t afford to think about right now. Because, no matter what, there’s a baby who needs us.
So, if you’re the praying type, Mr. B, Pickle and I could use all you can spare.
If you’re not the praying type, please, please send us any extra sunshine and positive rays of hope you can spare.
We love this baby of ours so very much, and this diagnosis is terrifying. And crushing.
And I’m feeling so lost.
There are some things in life that are easy to understand. Like ice cream. And then there are those things that are so incomprehensible that, no matter what you do, they just don’t make sense. Like sick babies.
As you can imagine, it’s been a very difficult time for everyone. There are a lot of emotions — ALL the emotions. And, of course, there have been — and continue to be — countless tears. But Pickle reminds us constantly that he/she is still in there, growing stronger and kicking.
And the one thing that remains through it all? Love.
Thank God for Mr. B. And those comforting arms and his calming voice. And our love that is strong enough for this. A love that carries with it my faith that we were brought together for this baby, for this family.
Our family will get through this. Because we have to, and there’s no way forward but through. Some days are easier than others to deal with what faces us. And some days are hard as hell. But, overall, what matters is that, at the end of this, we’re still going to be the parents to a wonderful miracle baby who changed our lives for the better before we even met him/her.