Many moms know the anticipation and excitement that comes the days leading up to big ultrasounds during their pregnancies. With Max, on the day of our anatomy scan we decided to send our boys up north to parents cabin so we could go to our Friday afternoon ultrasound on May 23rd, 2014 and then to a nice dinner to celebrate finding out the gender of Baby Scott #3.
Well things didn't end up going to plan at all.
You can read in more detail about the first ultrasound with Max-HERE.
We left our doctor’s office in bewilderment, confusion, and concern. What was supposed to be a nice night to relax and connect as a couple turned out to be a disaster. I was so sick with worry I didn’t want to eat. We went to a movie to take our mind off of things. I kept pulling out Max’s ultrasound pictures and cry with worry. On Saturday we decided to head up to the cabin to join our boys and ease our minds. After all, we had no indication that Max’s condition was lethal—yet.
Since that horrible day and the weeks that followed things got worse. After Max’s diagnosis, I couldn’t eat, sleep, do laundry, or even feel capable to take care of my children. I felt that I was so unprepared to deal with the devastation (let’s be honest, who is ever prepared for grief and loss?!) that I wouldn’t let it happen again.
Next time I would be prepared.
When we got pregnant with Baby Scott #4, the anticipation, worry and some excitement on the day’s leading up to ultrasounds has put me into hyperactive cleaning, cooking, doing laundry mode.
A kind of nesting of sorts, but not the kind that you do before you expect to bring a baby home. It’s the kind that I like call the “I don’t know if I’m going to get devastating news again today so I need to be prepared to go home and not have to do a thing” kind of prep.
Tomorrow is another scan, more detailed than the last but hopefully one of the last ones if baby is growing well and looking good.
Yesterday, on my day off, I vacuumed my entire house, cooked extras of dinner, washed all the laundry in my house, swept the floor, mopped the floor, cleaned the bathrooms, and prepped myself for that just in case situation and headed to Zumba to dance my (larger) a$$ off and forget about everything for an hour (<----definitely the highlight of my day!)
It’s a ritual now.
It’s therapeutic to clean, fold, dance and get my mind off of the next few days, feel prepared for bad news and heck, who doesn’t LOVE a spotless house and a great cardio session!!?!?
I don’t do it in anticipation that tomorrow 6/7/15 will be a bad day, I am doing my best to stay positive that it will be a good day but the worry that consumes me will not allow me to just not do it. Kind of like I’m damned if I do—because I spend my entire day cleaning and focusing on quite not important things but I’m damned if I don’t—because if tomorrow brings not so great news I don’t want to have to worry about anything. So silly, I know.
So tomorrow is a big day, met with great anticipation, excitement, and anxiety. As I sit here writing these words my foot is tapping, legs are wiggling, hands are sweating, Baby S is kicking and my logical self sits here saying, “You know everyone is going to KNOW you’re crazy now.”
Yes, I am crazy, slightly neurotic I would argue. I will cry from the moment I walk in those office doors until long after I am gone regardless of great news (tears of relief and elation) or bad news (tears of disappointment and despair). Last time the specialist gave me a big box of Kleenex and said I could take it home if I wanted.
So again, I ask for your thoughts and prayers. And again that no matter what news we are given that God keeps us close to Him.