My pregnancy with Ava was difficult from the start. Less than 24 hours after we found out I was pregnant I had some bleeding. We were expecting a miscarriage but nothing more happened and I never bled again. I had an ultrasound a few days later and we confirmed there
was a single live fetus in my uterus. We were overjoyed but still nervous as there was no explanation for my bleeding. I had more severe nausea and insomnia but otherwise things continued normally. I gained weight at a normal rate, my blood pressure was perfect, my blood tests (including genetic screening) came back normal, it was really a normal, average pregnancy. We had a review of systems ultrasound around 21 weeks and the baby looked perfect. Growth was normal, fluid levels were normal, every system was normal. The baby was moving a little bit but still refused to show her face. At the last moment we decided not to find out gender so we would continue to refer to this baby as “Jellybean.” In retrospect I think maybe we didn’t find out gender because we were both secretly worried about this pregnancy. I think I was trying to keep myself from falling too in love with this baby so that it wouldn’t hurt as much if something happened. I didn’t feel Jellybean move very often, mostly just at night or when Logan would sit on my lap. I tried not to let it bother me too much. I told myself it was fine and that every baby is different, but deep down I was worried. I would lay awake at night with my hands on my belly hoping to feel some movement. Sometimes I would even get up in the middle of the night to eat something sugary just to get the baby excited and moving so I could relax and get some sleep.

Just after 22 weeks we were taking a trip to see family in New York, and since I am a nurse in the OB office, we attempted to get another picture of stubborn jellybean’s face the day before our trip. Again Jellybean would not cooperate and the ultrasonographer decided to take some quick measurements and look at the baby while we waited for it to move in to a better position for face pictures. I watched her measure and then I watched her measure again. I watched her measure cord blood flow and blood flow to the baby’s brain. I knew these were unusual things to do, especially for an off the record, just for fun ultrasound. The room was alarmingly quiet. She told me baby was measuring pretty small but everything else looked normal. Fluid, blood flow, anatomy, all was fine but baby was small. She said she’d run it by the doctor on-call just to make sure. When I got home from work that night I tried to sound calm as I explained the findings to Travis. I didn’t want him to panic, but I was worried. That night the doctor called me and told me she wanted me to see the Maternal-Fetal specialist in two weeks for a follow-up. She asked me multiple times about bleeding or fluid loss or cramping and I assured her nothing like that had happened. I couldn’t decide if she was being extra cautious or if there was a real reason to worry. Then she told me multiple times that I needed to tell someone if I started having any bleeding. Then I really started worrying. Was she expecting me to miscarry? Was I going to bleed to death on an airplane to New York? Was my baby in serious trouble? So many questions started running through my head but I didn’t say anything.

The two weeks before the appointment with the specialist dragged on. I would wake up in the middle of the night and hold my belly crying while waiting for any sign of movement.  I didn’t tell anyone at work what was going on. I knew they would ask questions and I had no answers. I didn’t want to spend my day speculating and crying with my co-workers so instead I rushed to the bathroom multiple times a day when I felt the tears building. Every time someone commented on my “cute, little bump” or told me, “you’re so tiny!” I wanted to scream at them but I said nothing. My cheeks started to hurt from the fake smiles I would give my patients when they would tell me about all of the activity they felt from their baby on the inside. I tried to tell myself it was all going to be OK. I kept telling myself that the specialist would just tell us what we already knew, that the baby was normal but small and that we would need to have ultrasounds more frequently for the rest of the pregnancy. I figured he would tell us we would just have to wait and see. I had no idea what we were in for at our upcoming appointment.

On May 12, at 26 weeks we saw the specialist. We had another ultrasound and very little had changed. Anatomy was still normal, blood flow was still normal, baby was the same size as she was 2 weeks and 4 weeks ago, but this time there was no amniotic fluid surrounding the baby. We were told I needed to be admitted to the hospital until the baby was born. Our minds couldn’t comprehend what was being said. Admitted? But we have a camping trip tomorrow. Maybe we could go on the trip and drive to the hospital afterward. We even entertained the idea of going to a hospital close to family so that they could help watch Logan. Finally, the doctor got more assertive and insisted we go to the hospital. NOW. In Denver. We drove home, threw some stuff in suitcases and off we went, almost 200 miles from our home, downhill to Denver. My first time there in almost two years.

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