Our Story...Back to the Beginning III
This is just a continuation of two previous "Our Story" entries, so don't read this until you've read the earlier ones.
As we walked out of that small room into the open the nurses all stopped what they were doing and tried to give encouraging smiles and sympathetic looks. How little I knew that day how much I would come to hate those sympathetic looks. Dr. Greig walked us to the front and we made an appointment for the next week to ask questions and get some answers. We opened the door and walked into the waiting room where all the happy pregnant women and their husbands sat awaiting their appointment. I felt like I was branded with the word "defect" and somehow everyone knew and could tell. My heart ached like I have never felt before. A guilt that is indescribable came over me. Flashes of mistakes that I had made ran through my mind. Missing prenatal vitamins here and there, eating junk food, drinking coffee. I had no idea at that point how often I would feel that exact way and think those exact thoughts. We walked to the car in silence.
“What are we going to do?”
There was no answer to my question, but there didn’t need to be.
As my husband drove I looked over at him. The football player in high school, the athlete, the track runner, the basketball player. He wanted a boy to play with and to teach all of those boy things to, and now those dreams were gone. I ached for him more than for me. The loss of the dreams a father has for a son. I believed that his losses were far greater than mine.
I cried on the way home. I told him I was sorry, and I cried. He didn’t say much. He held my hand. My cell phone was ringing, but I didn’t answer it. How in the world was I going to tell our friends and family that were waiting for the, “Everything’s fine.” call? Because that’s exactly what everyone was waiting for. No one was expecting this. One of my friends kept calling. Nate finally answered and just told her that I would call her later on. For me one of the hardest parts was telling others.
I dreaded walking next door to my neighbor’s house, Debbie, to pick up our daughter Gracie. I went to the door and just asked for Gracie and left. I don’t think I said anything at all. Obviously Debbie figured out on her own the appointment didn’t go well. Larie, the one who went to Barnes and Noble with me, knew that something was wrong since I hadn’t called her yet. The night before we had planned on her and her husband Phil to take Gracie our daughter with them for a couple hours in the evening. She called to make sure that was still the plan. They came over that night to pick up Grace, and I know I told her the appointment didn’t go well. Those were the words I used a lot that day. It seemed like a good opening sentence to bad news so I just kept it. Through the evening, somehow phone calls were made and people started finding out. Nate called our pastor at the time, Dr. Gary Reimers.
I vaguely remember Nate saying that we didn’t need anything, just prayer. I can’t even tell you how much I prayed that day. I didn’t pray deep thoughtful prayers, just the same words over and over again.
“Lord, what are we going to do.”
As we walked out of that small room into the open the nurses all stopped what they were doing and tried to give encouraging smiles and sympathetic looks. How little I knew that day how much I would come to hate those sympathetic looks. Dr. Greig walked us to the front and we made an appointment for the next week to ask questions and get some answers. We opened the door and walked into the waiting room where all the happy pregnant women and their husbands sat awaiting their appointment. I felt like I was branded with the word "defect" and somehow everyone knew and could tell. My heart ached like I have never felt before. A guilt that is indescribable came over me. Flashes of mistakes that I had made ran through my mind. Missing prenatal vitamins here and there, eating junk food, drinking coffee. I had no idea at that point how often I would feel that exact way and think those exact thoughts. We walked to the car in silence.
“What are we going to do?”
There was no answer to my question, but there didn’t need to be.
As my husband drove I looked over at him. The football player in high school, the athlete, the track runner, the basketball player. He wanted a boy to play with and to teach all of those boy things to, and now those dreams were gone. I ached for him more than for me. The loss of the dreams a father has for a son. I believed that his losses were far greater than mine.
I cried on the way home. I told him I was sorry, and I cried. He didn’t say much. He held my hand. My cell phone was ringing, but I didn’t answer it. How in the world was I going to tell our friends and family that were waiting for the, “Everything’s fine.” call? Because that’s exactly what everyone was waiting for. No one was expecting this. One of my friends kept calling. Nate finally answered and just told her that I would call her later on. For me one of the hardest parts was telling others.
I dreaded walking next door to my neighbor’s house, Debbie, to pick up our daughter Gracie. I went to the door and just asked for Gracie and left. I don’t think I said anything at all. Obviously Debbie figured out on her own the appointment didn’t go well. Larie, the one who went to Barnes and Noble with me, knew that something was wrong since I hadn’t called her yet. The night before we had planned on her and her husband Phil to take Gracie our daughter with them for a couple hours in the evening. She called to make sure that was still the plan. They came over that night to pick up Grace, and I know I told her the appointment didn’t go well. Those were the words I used a lot that day. It seemed like a good opening sentence to bad news so I just kept it. Through the evening, somehow phone calls were made and people started finding out. Nate called our pastor at the time, Dr. Gary Reimers.
I vaguely remember Nate saying that we didn’t need anything, just prayer. I can’t even tell you how much I prayed that day. I didn’t pray deep thoughtful prayers, just the same words over and over again.
“Lord, what are we going to do.”
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